To the mothers, though, the kids represent a kind of investment, since custom directs the first loyalties to the mother's clan. So they treat them pretty well, although a bit casually, since they litter by twos and at least once a year. Anyway, Duncan seemed to think highly of kids. Can't imagine why, since he never had any of his own. He used to run a kind of school for them. Taught them all kinds of things a Tarchik's got no use for at all, made toys for them--badly, naturally; he couldn't have cut his initials in a tree without slicing his thumb. But what he couldn't make in the way of school stuff, he imported from Earth. Cost him his entire salary, except for what he spent on those futile letters to his wife. Those kids were fond of him, I suppose--as fond of him as a Tarchik ever gets of anything. They even kept the school foolishness going awhile afterward, but I think it's gone now. Anything that fool Duncan said, the Tarchiki thought was a great joke. They wouldn't have hurt his feelings for anything, for fear he'd quit telling them tall stories. They told him quite a few things, too. He wrote it all down, in dead earnest, as if their fairy tales and drum poems had any value. I sent the whole lot off to his wife, after it happened. I think it got lost in transit--I never heard from her, anyway. Or she may have thrown it all away. I can't imagine what else you could do with such a pile of nonsense. As a matter of fact, that's what led up to it--those damned legends. Duncan got interested in their religion. Never do that, boy. Let 'em all have their ghost stories and wooden gods, and never fool around with their idea of what makes the planet go round. The Tarchiks have a lot of small time fetishes, but they also have one big god, a fat one made out of stone, out in the jungle over near Mount Clarke. Every so often they all go up in a body and pay him a visit, and they take along any spare pups, usually extra girl children or prisoners from other tribes. This god--Kachan, his name is, I think--likes children too. He likes them best roasted, like birds on a spit. Charming deity. Anyway, when Duncan found out about Kachan, he got very upset. He went blazing out there to Mount Clarke, and he blew Kachan all to bits with a grenade. The Tarchiki didn't care for that, naturally. About a week later, Duncan was on his way over to the big village near here, to give his Tarchik kids another arithmetic lesson, I suppose. Old Stancha--he was the local religious big shot, a kind of High Priest--threw a spear from the bushes, Tarchik fashion, and nailed Duncan very neatly. Nailed, yes. That's the way we found him, with his back against a tree.