"Yes, Bbulas," Skkiru said meekly. * * * * * He would have put up an argument, but he had bigger plans in mind and he didn't want them impeded in any way. "But they seem like an excellent idea," Luccar suggested. "Primitive and yet convenient." Bbulas slowed down and gulped. After all, in spite of the fact that he was now only chief yam-stealer--being prevented from practicing his profession simply because there were no yams on the planet and no one was quite certain what they were--Luccar had once been elected President by a large popular majority. And a large popular majority is decidedly a force to be reckoned with anywhere in the Galaxy. "Any deviations arouse comment," Bbulas explained tightly. "But if we all--" "There would not be enough pontoons to go around, even if we stripped all the air-cars." "I see," Luccar said thoughtfully. "We couldn't make--?" "No time!" Bbulas snapped. "All right, Skkiru--get those things off your feet!" "Will do," Skkiru agreed. It would be decidedly unwise to put up an argument now. So he'd get his feet muddy; it was all part of the higher good. Later, as soon as the rain-dance rehearsals were under way, he slipped away. No part had been assigned to him anyhow, except that of onlooker, and he thought he could manage that without practice. He went down to the library, where, since all the attendants were aboveground, he could browse in the stacks to his hearts' content, without having to fill out numerous forms and be shoved about like a plagiarist or something. If the Earthmen were interested in really primitive institutions, he thought, they should have a look at the city library. The filing system was really medieval. However, the library would, of course, be tabu for them, along with the rest of the city, which was not supposed to exist. As far as the Terrans were to know, the group of lumpy stone huts (they should, properly speaking, have been wood, but wood was too rare and expensive) was the capital of Snaddra. It would be the capital of Snaddra for the Snaddrath, too, except during the hours of rest, when they would be permitted to retire unobtrusively to their cozy well-drained quarters beneath the mud. Life was going to be hard from now on--unless the Bbulas Plan moved faster than Bbulas himself had anticipated. And that would never happen without implementation from without. From without Bbulas, that was. Skkiru got to work on the tex-tapes and soon decided upon his area of operations. Bbulas had concentrated so much effort on the ethos of the planet that he had devoted insufficient detail to the mythos. That, therefore, was the field in which Skkiru felt he must concentrate. And concentrate he did. * * * * * The rain dance, which had been elaborately staged by the planet's finest choreographers, came to a smashing climax, after which there was a handsome display of fireworks.