"I--er--fell down and, being a beggar, I had no other garments to change into." "You'll survive," Bbulas said unfeelingly. "On Earth, I understand, people fall into mud all the time. Supposed to have a beneficial effect--and any effect on you, Skkiru, would have to be beneficial." Larhgan was opening her mouth to say something--probably, Skkiru thought fondly, in his defense--when there came a thud and a yell from the passage outside. Two yells, in fact. And two thuds. "My faith," exclaimed a Terrestrial voice, "but how did the beggar descend! I am sure every bone in my body is broken." "I think you'll find him possessed of means of locomotion not known to us. But you're not hurt, old chap--only bruised." And Cyril came into the council chamber, followed by a limping Raoul. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I trust this is not an intrusion, although I'm quite sure you'll tell us we've broken a whole slue of tabus." "You!" Bbulas screamed at Skkiru. "You must have used the passage in the hut! You let them follow you!" Losing control of his own reflexes, he began to whirl madly. * * * * * "But regard this!" Raoul exclaimed, staring around him. "To build a place like this beneath the mud--name of a name, these people must have hydraulic engineering far superior to anything on Earth!" "You are too kind," the former hydraulic engineer said deprecatingly. "Actually, it's quite simple--" "This is not a primitive civilization at all, Raoul," Cyril explained. "They've been faking it from tapes. Probably have a culture very much like ours, with allowances for climatic differences, of course. Oh, undoubtedly it would be provincial, but--" "We are not provincial," Larhgan said coldly. "Primitive, yes. Provincial, no! We are--" "But why should they do a thing like this to us?" Raoul wailed. "I imagine they did it to get on the trade routes, as Nemeth did. They've been trying not to talk about Nemeth all the while. Must have been rather a strain. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" Cyril told the assembled Snaddrath. "Very bad form!" Bbulas was turning paler and paler as he whirled. "All your fault," he gasped hoarsely to Skkiru. "All your fault!" And that was true, Skkiru realized. His antennae quivered, but he didn't even try to restrain them. He had meant well, yet he had messed up the planet's affairs far more seriously than Bbulas had. He had ruined their hopes, killed all their chances by his carelessness. He, Skkiru, instead of being his planet's savior, was its spoiler. He psonked violently. But Larhgan moved nearer to him. "It's all over, anyhow," she whispered, "and you know what? I'm glad. I'm glad we failed. I'd rather starve as myself than succeed as a sham." Skkiru controlled himself. Silently, he took the grimpatch out of his carrier and, as silently, she took it back. "My faith, they must have had plumbing all the time!" Raoul complained.