"Mankind is due to reach the stage of population where he can no longer feed himself on Earth," Morrow explained. "He simply won't be able to raise enough food on this one planet to feed such numbers. Either that, or there'll be three or four atomic wars in the next few generations--if there's one, there'll be several wars--and population will cease to be a problem. "There's been some talk of birth-control as the only logical answer to this overpopulation. It may be used, but I doubt its logic. You'll have to tell some people they simply can't have children, and on a world-wide scale you're going to have many cases where they disregard authority and have children anyway. Then, to make your authority stick, you'll have to take those unauthorized children away from their parents and kill them. You'll need a world dictatorship to do that. "The only answer that's really logical is when this world gets too small to support mankind, go out and settle a couple more. That's where interplanetary travel becomes important, and not before. The astronomers claim there is very little likelihood of any native species of intelligent beings living on either Mars or Venus. I only hope they're right! "But that isn't answering our present problem, is it?" Morrow grinned reflectively. "We could kill you, Mr. Lyle, but that would gain us nothing. There would be other agents following you. Also, it doesn't sit well with our attitude." "Just what _is_ your 'attitude' as you call it?" Lyle demanded. Morrow glanced at him through narrowed eyes and replied, "Just what would _your_ attitude be if you were in our position, Mr. Lyle?" * * * * * Later, as Morrow sat alone, Gwyn came out of the kitchen and joined him, perching herself on the arm of his chair. "It'll work out all right, Bill," she murmured soothingly, running her fingers through his hair. "Don't worry about it." Morrow shook his head. "We've got to let him go, Gwyn. We can't hold him." "Then let's just face it," she replied, using her practical feminine approach. "The government is going to learn about our project. What can they do about it? Can they throw us into prison and confiscate all we have here? What'll they do with it? Without us, they won't understand it!" "How much _will_ they understand, I wonder!" Morrow said dubiously. "Will they realize this could ignite the present world tension into a raging war?" Gwyn looked out on the silent, brooding canyon. "Would it, Bill? I mean--I'm not doubting you, darling--but are you sure?" Morrow sighed wearily. "No," he said. "Not sure. I'd just rather not risk it." "Well, if it happens, it won't be our fault." Gwyn slipped her arms around him and settled down in his lap. "Don't worry, Bill--" It was nearly midnight when Morrow stood down on the field, with the gleaming, black ship looming beside him, and watched Smitty and Lyle, the agent, walking out toward him.