They turned to Johnny Hope, all of them, their new leader. For Keleher had spoken those words, then fell forward on his face. Three men carried him off to a tent, where two women brought vessels of water. "They went looking for the three missing ones, Hope." "What can we do?" "The Robots." "Tell us, Hope." "What they did once they might do again." Johnny laughed as reaction from his ordeal set in. They crowded around him, flies swarming for honey. They hadn't given him a chance in the fight, but now because Keleher had cracked his own ribs instead of Johnny's, Johnny was their leader. It was a job he neither wanted nor would tolerate. "What they're trying to say," Amos Westler told him, "is that they found Tom Burwood not far from here." "What about Diane?" Johnny demanded eagerly. "No Diane, no Starbuck. They found Burwood, hanging by his neck, dead." "Dead?" Johnny said, dazed. "Diane?" "You're not listening to me, young man. Diane they didn't find." Then, as if he suddenly realized he was addressing their new, if bewildered, leader, Westler apologized. "I'm sorry. While Burwood's corpse was the only one they found, there were shreds of clothing in the undergrowth. There--" "Diane?" "Possibly, they're not sure. I would say all indications point to the Robot Citadel. You said you would go, but now that you are our leader, perhaps you've changed your mind. When leadership is thrust upon a man--" "When an old leader is vanquished," plump Gilbert bubbled effusively, "there is a celebration, sir. And there is an edict to be handed down by the new leader. Do we banish Keleher from the encampment when his condition permits? Do we slay him for you? Do we--" "Do whatever you want," Johnny said irritably. "I'm not staying." "This is some joke!" "I have nothing against Keleher. I still have nothing against him. I'm leaving. When Keleher regains consciousness, when his body heals, you may tell him for me I did not depose him. He is still your leader." "That is clearly impossible." "Is it? I command you in this. Keleher remains on as chief. But tell him this for me: some day I may call upon him and his people for help, and when I do...." "You have vision," said Amos Westler, admiration in his voice. "When I do, I want no delays. That is my message to your ruler, to Keleher. Is it understood?" Gilbert and some of the others nodded. A small, intense man, Westler fidgeted about impatiently while the girls returned with thick strips of cloth and scrubbed the grease from Johnny Hope. "I'm now a celebrity," he said to Westler, feeling himself briefly as one with these wild people as they gathered around for his advice, preparing a victory banquet over roaring fires as darkness covered the bivouac area. He munched a savory leg of fowl, slaked his thirst from a moist leather wine bag, the claret stream gushing into his mouth from the spout. "You see," Westler could not hide his disappointment. "It is even as I said. You will stay."