Which one? Rains glanced around. The white bearded ascetic next to him? He was the holy hermit, telepathic type. But so were dozens of others, most of them with luxuriant white beards. Rains probed, but got no results. In America he'd fenced off combined telepathic assaults of the best of his fellows. He'd expected more competition in India, but this was beyond his expectation. The defense he'd prepared seemed weak for what it had to ward off. An olive-skinned, dark-eyed girl went by with a gliding graceful walk. With a little help from his imagination he could conjecture every curve. It was sufficiently distracting. Me plus thee equals whee, he thought swiftly. But this is hardly a Euclidean proposition, though I would like our parallel paths to meet. Was he too hopeful, or did the surrounding thoughts retreat somewhat? The girl turned and retraced her steps. Me plus thee equals three, her reply came back firmly. What do you have in mind? She wasn't thinking along the right lines. There was a mental wedding scene uncomfortably close. He went on, ignoring her opportunistic suggestion. I should have known, she thought frozenly when he didn't respond. You're looking for another kind of girl. She took herself out of the picture. It was dangerous to spread his thoughts around. Something less personal was in order. Nonsense was reputed to work. He searched and found some, repeating it silently. I was thinking of a plan to dye my whiskers green, and always wear so large a fan they never could be seen. An ascetic, there seemed to be hundreds around, walked by. I was thinking of a plan--continued Rains, his effort intense--to dye my whiskers green.... The ascetic bellowed as a cow butted his side and began munching his beard. A green beard! The Hindu squirmed and twisted loose, backing away from the cow. The cow lollopped out her tongue and tucked a whisp of beard into her mouth, chewing away as if on grass, which it resembled. Purposefully she advanced. The old Hindu scrambled away, clutching the remains of his beard. It was now green, but it had been white. Rains could swear he had been looking at it during the instant of change. The cow lurched after the old man. She broke into a trot and the trot stretched into a gallop and the two of them disappeared down the street. All around there were men with green beards. It wasn't natural. They stared at each other and then their eyes glided down. Muttering in foreign tongues they stalked away. Rains could understand their consternation. What had caused their beards to change? Did it have anything to do with the rhyme? But there was something more important. The mind that had been trying to invade his had gone away. He thought back. The mental influence had vanished with the cow.