"We should and we will," Corriston said. "But a good many men collapsed from the cold this morning. If we don't arrive at that ship in force, we may live to regret it. Where's Freddy? Have you seen him?" The grizzled man raised his arm and pointed: "Over there," he said. "His coming along was just about the craziest thing I ever heard of." Corriston walked across the churned up sand to where Freddy sat perched like a disconsolate gnome on a metal-rimmed food container shaped like an old-fashioned water barrel. Dr. Drever's son was almost twelve, but he was small for his age and Corriston had seen boys of nine who were much huskier looking. Corriston had no way of knowing that on Earth, shoulder to shoulder with other schoolboys, Freddy had never thought of himself as particularly small. It was only on Mars, all alone with his father and other grownups, that he had felt even smaller than he actually was. He had felt like a dwarf child. "Why did you do it, Freddy?" Corriston asked. "Your father is very upset and worried." Freddy looked up quickly and just as quickly lowered his eyes again. "I had to come," he said. "I had to." "But why?" "I don't know." "I see." Corriston stared at him for a long moment in silence. Then he said: "I think perhaps I understand, Freddy. Just suppose we say you succumbed to an impulse to roam. The exploring urge can be overwhelming in a boy of your age. It usually is. If you were on Earth right now you'd be dreaming about exploring the headwaters of the Amazon. You'd be dreaming about birds with bright, tropical plumage and butterflies as big as dinner plates." Freddy looked up again, not quite so quickly this time. There was wonder and admiration in his stare. "How did you know?" he gasped. "I guess I was pretty much like you, Freddy--once," Corriston said. "Gee, thanks," Freddy said. "Thanks for what?" "Thanks for understanding me, Lieutenant Corriston." Corriston walked out between the tractors and raised his voice so that everyone within earshot could hear him. "We're starting again in ten minutes," he said. "Better have another cup of coffee all around." 20 The sand had been blowing for forty minutes. It was a flying avalanche, a flailing mace. Even inside the tractors it set up an almost intolerable roaring in the eardrums, and when it struck the wind-guards head on the battered vehicles shook. For five or six seconds they would rumble on and then come to a jolting halt. Often they would start up again almost immediately but equally often they would remain stalled for several minutes, and at times there were more stalled tractors than moving ones across the entire line of advance.