"Steve!" Myra's eyes reflected inspiration. "Why don't we escape? I mean really escape. Get out of this whole business!" "You mean off the planet?" Myra nodded. "Peachy paid a touching tribute to our allegedly minus intelligence by warning me against any such ideas--for our own good. Our fuel would last, and our food might, and even we might, since it'd take years without Peachy's space-annihilator. The only thing that stands in our way is the fact that this ship isn't space-proof. It leaks air. Compared to our Skypiercer," Steve clutched at a simile, "it is as a hotfoot compared to a holocaust." "Well," Myra shrugged philosophically, "no one can say Lady Horn ever leaves a stone unturned." "If you've stopped blowing your own, Horn," said Steve recklessly, "come look at the view. It makes me homesick." IV The tiny ship sped along, a thousand feet above the great ocean that separated Siykul from its neighboring continent. Only a slight mental effort was needed to imagine themselves back on Earth. Long swells swept across the deep, green surface. No sea-craft were in sight, but occasionally a huge fish would break through the surface and quiver in the air as sunlight glinted on the drops of water it shook from its back. Miles ahead, land appeared, like low-lying clouds on the horizon. Ten minutes of flying brought them over the shore--a wide beach that stretched back half a mile and ended abruptly in a forest. The forest seemed endless. "We must have gone a hundred miles inland," said Myra. "When are we supposed to push that fateful button?" "Point Q is described as a large prairie. We should reach it any minute now." "What's that up ahead?" "That appears to be it," said Steve. He pushed the button with crossed fingers. The ship immediately went into a long glide. The ground came up rapidly. Just when they thought they would surely crash, the nose came up automatically and the ship skidded to a bumpy halt. Steve shut off the motor. "Last stop," he said. Myra looked at him closely. "Steve," she said. "How do you feel?" "Fine," he replied. "Why? Scared?" "No. I mean--aren't we supposed to be ... well, affected, somehow?" "Oh." Steve looked at her and scratched his head in thought. "Well-l, I do feel a trifle crazy." "How?" Myra looked concerned. Steve grinned impishly. "I feel like kissing you." Myra puffed out her cheeks in mock anger, then smiled. "You know," she said, "I feel the same way." They didn't see the two creatures that stood outside the ship, watching them through the transparent door. Myra's eyes opened. She looked over her husband's shoulder. "Steve," she whispered. "Mmmm?" he said dreamily. "Remember your American history? Apaches, Utes and Algonquins?" "You mean the good old days, before spaceships and the machine age?" "Yes. And we're back in it. Look." Steve turned around. "Good grief!" he said. "Indians!"