"I'm not thinking of the slow process of adaptation," Wallace said, "where the most fit, and their descendants, are the ones that tend to survive and propagate. What I had in mind was a form of genetic change. Such as a plant, or an animal, appearing that is different from the rest of its species. A botanist, or a biologist, would call it a 'sport.' Like the appearance of a black rose on a bush of red roses. If the black rose is more fitted to survive in its environment, or if it is artificially propagated, it would soon replace the red." "You think then that a child was born here with a difference that made it more fit to survive in this environment than the others, and that the savages we saw are its direct descendants?" Wallace nodded. "But wouldn't it be too much of a coincidence that the particular trait should appear just when it was needed?" "I don't think so," Wallace said. "Nature has a way of providing the particular trait just at the time it _is_ most needed. A good example is the way more male children are born during a war. There's no known explanation for something like that. But nature seems to know what is needed--and provides it." "That sounds plausible," Saxton said, after a minute of consideration. "According to your theory, then, those savages possess an ability radically different from that of normal humans?" "Not necessarily _radically_ different," Wallace answered. "It would probably be a trait inherent in all of us, but not so evident, or fully developed. Or perhaps it has made its appearance before, in rare individuals, but not being a survival characteristic--where it appeared--it died. Something like telepathy, or poltergeism, or any of the other so-called wild talents." "I'll admit I'm stumped," Saxton said. "And I don't think we'll learn anything more here without staying and observing them a lot longer than I'd care to. If we ever get back home, there are specialists in that sort of thing, who can do more with the facts we gave them than we can." Wallace sighed. "I suppose you're right," he said. "I hope we learn what it is before we leave, but of course we can't wait if we get the chance to go." * * * * * Early the next afternoon they spied a figure hurrying toward them from the edge of the wood. "It's Al-fin," Saxton said. "I wonder why he's in such a hurry." "He's carrying something under his arm," Wallace commented. They waited while the native puffed his way up the bank of the small plateau on which the spaceship rested. When he reached them he stood for a moment fighting to regain his breath. It was evident that he had run long and hard.