The little planet rolled steadily toward the sunrise, the cold stars glided above them. Quietly, the dawn breeze simpered among the grasses. Quite slowly, MacMartree raised his head. "Abner, Phillips, Cole...." They didn't answer, but he knew they heard him, and were listening, within their individual worlds of aching loneliness and fear. "I ... I know what our Enemy is," MacMartree said. They came a little closer to him then, venturing out of themselves a fraction to hear what he said. "Our Enemy," MacMartree told them, "is God." * * * * * After a pause, the inevitable question came. Phillips voiced it for the rest. "What is--God?" MacMartree shook his head. "A myth--a legend--I thought. There were so many things in all those ancient books I read ... how was I to know?" "This is something you read, too?" "Yes, in a very old book. In many of them, actually, but one in particular. A book called--" the name eluded him. He let it go. "God was a deity. People worshipped Him, thousands of years ago." Cole had stopped his crying. "The book was written as the Word of God. I--I remember a part of it...." "Tell us," dully, from Abner. "'I the Lord thy God am a jealous God.' I think that explains it best." He sighed. "It's my fault, I suppose. Man is omnipotent, I said. Man is all-powerful. Man can do _anything_! Yes, it was enough to rouse the anger of a jealous God." "Is He going to kill us, then?" "I don't know, Phillips. He could have, long before this...." "How can we fight Him," Cole whispered. "How?" "We can't," the old man said. "God is the only omnipotent One. We are not." He got to his feet, came around to face them. "One thing we can do." "What?" they wanted to know. "What can we do?" "We can try to--talk to Him." The grassy world sped softly toward its dawning. Beyond the hill that rose above them, lean fingers of light came creeping from the lifting sun. It seemed to come in answer to those stumbling, clumsy, fervent prayers--the first prayers that had touched the lips of men in a thousand years. Lost in concentration, MacMartree felt the sweet breath of the sun's first warmth upon his back. He opened his eyes, found them dimmed somehow, and a wetness on his cheeks. Wonderingly, they looked at one another, awed by what they read upon each other's faces. "I forgot," MacMartree said softly. "I forgot that He is also merciful...." Abner slowly raised his arm. "It's healed," he said.