Garth used his knife to cut down a sapling. He impaled a leaf on its point and extended it gingerly over the dark water. After a moment he felt a shock like a striking fish, and the pole was nearly wrenched from his hands. And he wrestled with it, Brown's hands gripped the sapling. "What the devil! Garth--" "Let it go. I was only testing, anyway." The pole was dragged into the water, where it thrashed about violently for a few moments. "What is it?" * * * * * Garth was searching through the underbrush for something. "Water-snakes. Big ones--perfectly transparent. They wait for some animal to come along and take a drink. Then--bang!" He nodded. "Here we are. We'll find a lot of the Noctoli flowers from now on." He brought out a bloom nearly a foot in diameter, with leaves of pulpy, glossy black, a thick powdering of silver in its cup. "This is Noctoli, Captain. Looks harmless, doesn't it?" "Yeah." Brown rubbed his forehead. "The pollen gives you amnesia?" "In the daytime, when it's active. It's phototropic--needs light. Jupiter can't have set yet, so this ought to work." Garth found another pole, speared the flower on its tip, and extended the blossom over the water. He shook the silver dust into the stream. "It works fast. The snakes will be paralyzed in a few seconds. The current carries off the pollen, we dip up the water we need--and that's that." Paula appeared through the bushes, glancing around warily. In the last week everyone had learned to be alert always. Lines of fatigue showed on her pale face. Red-gold hair was plastered damply on her forehead. "Carver--" "What's up?" She glanced at Garth, "The men. Sampson's talking to them." Brown's rat-trap mouth clamped tight. "That so? Sampson shoots off his mouth too much. What's the angle?" "I think they want to go back." Garth, dipping up water in the canvas buckets, said, "We've only three more days to go, unless we run into bad country." "I know. But--they're armed." "I'll talk to 'em," Brown said quietly. He lifted two of the pails and started up the path, Paula and Brown trailing him. Presently they reached the clearing where camp had been made. The men weren't cooking. Instead, they were gathered in a knot around Sampson, whose blazing red hair stood up like a beacon. Brown put down his burden and walked toward them. They broke up at sight of him, but didn't scatter. Sampson's hand crept imperceptibly toward his holster. "Trouble?" Brown asked. Sampson squinted at him. "No trouble. Except we didn't know the Forest would be as bad as it is." "So you want to go back?" "You can't blame us for that," Sampson said, hunching his heavy shoulders. "It's only dumb luck that's kept us alive so far. We didn't bargain for this, Captain." "I told you what to expect."