Caine turned over and faced the other direction. Sleep came swiftly. His mind dimmed and his body went limp and there was only blackness. The cold light of dawn was in his eyes and he woke up swearing. His right hand swung out and caught air. He jumped up and leaped forward, but his hands caught nothing. The boy was away from him, twisting backwards into the undergrowth. Caine knelt, still cursing, one hand on his empty holster. He could see the glint of the pistol in the boy's hand. "What are you going to do with it," he asked the boy, "now that you've got it?" "Kill you, Driver." "Sure," Caine said. "And then who leads you back to your crib?" The boy's lips worked back and forth over his teeth. He shook the gun in his hand. "I didn't say when I'd do it, Driver. You just stand up and start moving. I'll let you know when. Do you hear me?" The boy's voice rose to a sudden scream. The pistol swept through the air and smashed a vine to pulpy shreds. Then it was pointing again at Caine's stomach. "Move!" the boy yelled. Caine straightened and began to move through the foliage. The girl started to follow. "No!" the boy screamed. He jumped to the girl's side and grabbed her arm. He motioned the gun again in the crazy leaping way he did everything. Caine started through the jungle. He could feel the pistol pointing at his back and he could feel the stare of the boy's bright darting eyes. The boy was shrewd, Caine thought, like a crazed animal. Fear had warped the already wayward brain, and to try to charge him or bully him or anything else would be like striking matches in a room full of explosives. He would have to wait, Caine decided, until he found a chance to trick the lightning-like senses of the boy. Somehow, he would have to find a way to sweep the pistol out of the boy's nervous fingers. And Caine was thinking of this, working it back and forth in his brain, when they reached another circular clearing. Yellow and green grass lay glistening in the morning dampness. Purple and red flowers dotted the thick carpet. A wall of vines and thick leaves bounded the clearing and the thin razor leaves extended here and there from the thick wall like polished rapiers. Caine walked nearly to the center of the circle and then stopped suddenly. He could see them, just behind the first thickness of foliage. The pale green skin and the globular heads and the large round eyes, lidless and soft-looking. He turned back to the girl and the boy. The boy waved the pistol. "Go on, damn you. Go on!" Caine glanced back at the green-skinned creatures who waited in the green growth. "I told you," the boy screamed, "you go on! Do you hear me?" * * * * * Caine held his hands at his sides, feeling his nerves tremble inside of him. It wasn't fear of the Venusians that made him tense. It was the boy with the pistol and the girl and the total of things.