Only there are mistakes and mistakes, and sometimes mistakes aren't mistakes at all. The geyser exploded, higher, faster and harder than it ever had before. And Charlie, half-drowned and half-or-more scalded, popped up and landed in the brush twenty feet away. Bronoski fought for control of his flyer and finally made a fast pickup. Doc Selby did a pretty good job with the First Aid Kit. Charlie's neck and collarbone were broken and over fifty per cent of his skin had to be replaced. Still, it was lucky Charlie had that concentrated soap in his pack. Ever been to Earth National Park and seen Old Faithful? You know what happened--they use soap to get the geyser spouting when it's off schedule. We haven't told Charlie that it was anything but an accident that Bronoski was so handy. And we let him tell us about the changed customs of the natives. He resumed his regular position of Accident Prone when he saw realistically that he would inevitably be doing the same work and that he might as well get paid for it. I often wonder if it was a genuine mistake the way he dropped into the geyser. Certainly he would have died if it hadn't been for the soap concentrates. If he took that into consideration, though, it wasn't a mistake at all, but a wise choice. A few days ago, when he was leaving my office--that is, the bridge--I saw Charlie slip and start to fall. He didn't give up and go limp. He gave his old dance of struggling to regain his balance. _Only this time he made it!_ I began sweating again. After all the time, effort and money the Service puts into acquiring and training a Prone, I wonder if it is possible for one to beat his problem and cease to be an Accident Prone or even an accident prone. This afternoon, I passed Charlie Baxter's swimming pool and saw him poised on his diving board. I waved and rather jauntily extended his grandfather's wish for good luck: "Break a leg." Charlie grinned back at me. "Yes, sir." But he didn't. It would be very reassuring if he would. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Break a Leg, by Jim Harmon