Waltk stared at him. "You do not like me? You have just used what I have to help yourself?" "Yes, you big dumb ox," Jarl Gare gloated. "Your weakness is too obvious. You're strong, but the Venusians have tests for such strength, and even your mighty body will fail." "And you have no weakness?" Waltk asked. "Suppose they give you the test of strength?" "The Chameleon men don't do it that way. They read your mind, almost, and figure out a test that should not be impossible, if you are uniformly strong in body, mind and courage. The test is for all three, and you must have the brains to go with strength." "I see," Waltk said, and when he looked at Jarl Gare, there was almost a sense of pity in the glance. * * * * * At last they came to the pool. Out of the fog-shrouded lake came the Chameleon men, their bodies dripping, their webbed hands carrying the great shells. The band of Chameleon men leading the Jovian and the Earthman halted. Two of them dived into the pool. After long minutes the pair reappeared, lugging between them a gigantic clam. They set it down before Waltk. They stared at Waltk. Finally, Waltk grinned and nodded. With their metal spears, four of the Chameleon men pried open the bi-valve, and held it open by standing on the shell edges. Waltk flexed his great muscles and clamped a huge hand on each shell edge. Jarl Gare's yellow eyes widened. Waltk's test was to hold open the clam, a prodigious feat. For how long? One of the Chameleon men glanced at Jarl Gare and he saw a picture of darkness descending on the pool. Why, that must be six hours. The four Venusians stepped off the shell. The clam's writhing muscles and the great writhing muscles of the Jovian's back tensed together. The Chameleon men stared blankly at the striving pair. Jarl Gare watched passively. If the dumb ox couldn't figure out that all he had to do was to shove the clam open still further instead of bracing against closure, he would lose the test. The moments dripped by, became minutes marked by the jumping back and shoulder muscles of the Jovian. An hour passed sluggishly.... Waltk's usually white face became suffused with red. His chest was laboring. At the end of two hours, Waltk glanced appealingly over his shoulder at Jarl Gare. The Earthman laughed. With a convulsive effort, Waltk pushed back the shells six inches either way. If he had done that at first, he could have won, Jarl Gare thought, but not now. Waltk's strength had been drained too greatly. The great shells quivered, moving back. Waltk strained, but the Jovian's great muscles could hold no longer. The Jovian's huge body quivered, the skin grew almost black with his great effort. The clam had the leverage now. Its white muscles pulsed. The Jovian grunted with pain. There was a deep _thucking_ sound. Waltk whimpered. Then the Jovian stood up. He stared at the blood pulsing from the stumps of his wrists. The clam had sheared off his hands.