Cantrell, his hand dropping slowly from his gun-butt, walked slowly forward toward the crawling child. It squinted up at him with milky blue eyes that could scarcely make out the outline of his tall figure. But, at his approach, it cowered back; started to scuttle for cover. Cantrell reached down gently and picked it up, shuddering at the little face so close to his own. Moonstone eyes. Gargoyle mouth with crumbling teeth. Round scabrous head that was almost hairless. Stumps of feet and hands that had no fingers, no toes. The child squirmed frantically in his embrace, uttering a small shrill whistle that seemed to be the only sound it could make. "God, it's _human_, isn't it?" Harris, standing beside him, muttered in pity and revulsion. "Put it down, Rob! It's ... diseased!" More of the men from Terra crowded closer, peering at the struggling child. Then one of the chemists shouted, pointing. Cantrell whirled, hand moving again toward his gun. Another of the creatures was creeping out of the forest. A woman--probably the child's mother. She limped forward, whistling soothingly to the child, but utterly terrified herself from the look on her bloated, twisted features. A few feet away from Cantrell, she threw her hands over her face and flung herself prone before him; head in the grass, she crawled toward him, reached his feet, and lay tense as though expecting a blow.... "Poor slob! God, I've seen beggars on Terra who weren't as...." Captain Rob Cantrell knelt slowly and set the child on its deformed feet. It toppled over at once, unable to stand, and the mother snatched it to her flat breast. She began to crawl again, dragging the child and backing away with her face still thrust into the spongy ground. "Poor ugly _slob_ ... thinks we're going to hurt her, doesn't she?" On impulse, Cantrell strode forward, took her arm gently, and lifted her to her feet. She swayed, clinging to the child. Casting about for some gesture of friendship, he suddenly unstrapped the spacewatch from his left wrist and, smiling, buckled it about the woman's scrawny handless arm. She stared at it dumbly, milk-blue eyes darting from the jeweled band to Cantrell's face for a moment. Then, with a little bleating sound, she threw herself at his feet again, trembling with terror. She lay there, clutching her baby and sobbing uncontrollably. "Well, I'll be a--!" Cantrell glanced helplessly at Harris, "What d'you make of _that_?" "Doesn't understand about presents," the astrogator guessed. "Must mean something special on this planet.... _Hey! Here come some more!_" * * * * *