As a slow lightening of the cloud blanket indicated dawn, Sadie and Frank took places among some fifty Incors who were heading out from Venusport into Wildoatia. Like the others, they were dressed in heavy coveralls. Each carried a Tommygun, a knapsack stuffed with food and necessities, and a money belt containing the five thousand gold dollars without which no man or woman was allowed to cross the last frontier. The Incors were a wild lot; mostly young, high-spirited or spoiled people who rebelled at the strict moral standards of United Stars. In spite of themselves, both Frank and the girl felt strongly drawn to this group. They felt no sympathy for a scattering of older Incors whose hardbitten faces indicated that they had run afoul of U.S. law and were being "shipped over", the only major punishment permitted within the solar system. "Say, chum." A beetlebrowed youth sidled over to Sadie as they left the port and plunged into the sweating jungle. "Do you reckon it's as tough in Wildoatia as they make out in that indoctrination course?" "It's plenty tough," she answered out of the corner of her mouth. "Been there before?" "What's it to you?" As he started to protest she added: "The first law of Wildoatia is not to ask personal questions." "Watch him," the girl whispered to Frank as Beetlebrow retreated. "I smell Pumper." "Oh, he's just a dumb kid." "Mebbe so. Mebbe so. Watch him anyway." It was a dismal trip. The eternal drizzle soaked them to the skin; a few hardy jitbugs chewed at them. From time to time bloodsucking plant-animals along the muddy trail snaked out prehensile branches. Then there was much swearing and hacking with machetes until the white-faced victims freed themselves. The skylarking with which the Incors had celebrated their departure from Venusport dwindled and died. In fact, it became evident as the day progressed that Beetlebrow, at least, was losing his nerve. He snarled curses on the journey; he buttonholed lagging companions and muttered about the advisability of returning to Venusport. He yelled like a frightened child when branches reached for him. Only when more hardy travellers threatened to kick him out of the group did he subside. "That kid's a menace," Frank groaned at last; "he'll wreck the morale of all of us." "I'll bet he's doing it deliberately." Sadie squashed a jitbug which had chewed its way through the mosquito netting draped from her helmet. "A Pumper. No doubt of it." * * * * * Things came to a head when camp was made for the night on a high and relatively uninfested ridge. There Beetlebrow grew suddenly brave and argued against Sadie's proposal that sentries be posted. "There ain't no danger," he whined. "Scamours don't climb this high. We all ought to get a good night's sleep so we'll be on our toes when we get to Nirvana tomorrow." When Sadie's counsel prevailed, the fellow picked up his blankets and stalked into the darkness to sleep by himself.