Supper over, Rex helped Jean with the dishes. He was struck by the domestic situation into which this case had brought him. He felt guilty--as though he were trespassing on the hospitality of these fine people. And fine people they were--of that he was assured. Now only remained to discover by what weird turn of circumstances the perfectly preserved body of Professor Spencer had been placed in a sealed potato hold in New Iowa. "The ships that go out of here," Rex said. "Do they all set down in New Iowa--on the field there?" They were having coffee in the living room. Jean had removed her apron and sat close to Rex on the lounge. Her hair was soft and gleaming in the light of the open flame from the old-fashioned fireplace. "Usually," she said, "except during heavy harvest time. Then they put down wherever they can. We've had them parked in our lower pasture. You see we like to get the crops away as quick as we can and the freight company always sends enough ships to accommodate us because the run is so profitable." "The lower pasture. Isn't that where this Barzoo fellow hangs out?" Jean shuddered. "He's awful. I suppose I shouldn't feel this way about him because he's harmless and very good to Tommy. But that dull brown hide--his funny eyes." "I'd like to see what he looks like. I'll have to ask Tommy to take me down there." Jean regarded him thoughtfully. "I'll take you down." "But why should you--?" She shrugged. "I don't seem to be doing very well by firelight. We have two moons up here. They should be twice as hard to resist as one." Rex was playing it straight all the way through--which meant playing it dumb. "But it's very cold out." "Pretty cold in here, too. Let's get started." * * * * * Rex put on his jacket, wondering what he was going to do with this girl. She appeared from her bedroom wearing a white parka that made her look doubly attractive. "It's only a ten-minute walk. And the cold isn't as penetrating here as on Terra." They hiked along, hand-in-hand, under the two racing Martian moons. The air was sharp, stinging, like heady wine. Rex felt as though he could have jumped clear up to where Terra hung close and beautiful in the night sky. This, he decided, was a wonderful planet, a wonderful country, a great place to settle down and build something--raise children. Bodies in shipping cases seemed far away and unreal. Jean's hand, warm in his own, squeezed suddenly as though she sensed his thoughts. She glanced at him, her eyes rich with meaning. Then she broke away and ran on ahead toward an oddly shaped monolith of a hut further down the pasture. As Rex hurried forward, he studied the stone hutch. It was obviously very old--something left over from a lost and forgotten civilization. It impressed him as having been built as both a shelter and a symbol. There appeared to be undecipherable meaning in the formation of it--blurred now by the wear of centuries.