Hastily, the Scout put a score of his latest finds into his sack and left the tree house. And without bothering to search for the life that had triggered his alarm (Law specified a Scout was to flee in such an instance) he adjusted his weight and rose up to his waiting ship. Minutes later he had passed the world's satellite and was in view of his parent craft. * * * * * The Commander's first action was to order the Scout flogged before his comrades as an example of what awaited those who became lax in the performance of important duties. His second was to assemble the Council of Experts. When the eight old men had taken their places about the table, the Commander saluted them in the name of Law, then summoned his aide. "Is Decontamination through?" "It is, sir." "Then have the findings brought in." The officer ran from the room and returned in a moment with the Scout's bulging sack. Gently he placed it in the center of the round table before the council. After saluting he took his leave again. "Gentlemen," began the Commander, "we are met again to pass judgment on a corrupt, life-harboring planet. By the authority vested in me through the line of my father I charge you with the voice of Law." And so on, and on, with the ancient words of the ritual. The eight old experts hardly listened. They had sat through countless identical sessions during the hundreds of years of their lives. Theirs was but to view the oddities that would presently be arranged before them, make mental records of their descriptions, and offer one or two tentative guesses as to the nature of the articles. But in any event, the action that followed would be the same. The creatures responsible for the articles would shortly be snuffed out ... in the glorious and awful name of Law. So they hardly listened. When the Commander had finished with the rites of the occasion he unsnapped the bag and after peering within it, gingerly brought out the Scout's first find. Only now did the old men appear to take much notice. A few even leaned forward slightly. All eyes centered on what their Commander held. "A phallic object?" asked the youngest. "No. A lever," said the eldest. "For killing," added the next. "But it was made by machine," put in a fourth. For a moment they were silent. The Commander placed the "machine-made killing-lever" on the table. It described a short little half-roll, bringing the printing into view. "A religious design," said the youngest. "Obviously pagan." "But rather well worked." No one found anything further to say, so the Commander brought forth from the bag the next object. A mild flurry of interest ensued when it was discovered that this soft globular thing bore the same "religious design." But the sages would not venture an opinion as to the thing's purpose, so the Commander took out the package of white cylinders.