The other continent, however, was shockingly primitive. Vast forests and jungles stretched from one sea to the other. Aircraft passing overhead could make out only scattered and far apart settlements that might, possibly, house life. There were hundred-mile stretches in which no trace of a living thing could be found. The inhabitants, glimpsed occasionally, were immense, red, spidery things, evidently very savage. Steve and Myra interrupted Peachy's story long enough to make themselves comfortable on chairs and choose fresh cigarettes. "About how tremendous are these creatures, compared, say--to me?" asked Steve. "They're about your size." "Enormous," admitted Steve to the compact two-footer. "Go on." Peachy didn't seem to be made for any position other than an upright one. He shifted his communication wire to another hand and continued: "A few years ago my people began to realize that our continent would not be big enough to hold us very much longer. We are already utilizing every available inch of space in our country and we must have more room, otherwise many of our people will starve. "Spurred on thus, we quickly built a small fleet of extraplanetary ships to seek habitation on other worlds. The fleet became useless when it left our atmosphere, and the eight ships crashed. But we had profited by our mistakes, and the next fleet successfully navigated the upper air." Steve looked incredulous. "Do you mean to say those were the first space ships you ever made?" "Yes," said the Siykulan simply. "We had never needed them before." Steve whistled. "Look," said Myra. "What was the idea of dashing all over the Solar System for this elbow room, when you have all you needed on the other continent?" "We had no way of getting there," said Peachy. "Nonsense," said Steve, "you just finished telling us about your airships, and boats and marvelous inventions--" "You don't understand," said their tiny guest patiently. "There was no _physical_ hardship involved. We had no trouble flying over the continent, or approaching it from the ocean. But the moment we tried to land, from the sea or air, disaster overtook us." "What sort of disaster?" asked Myra. "Insanity." * * * * * Every so often, it seemed, the Siykulans sent an expedition to their neighboring continent. And once in a while--not so often--a member or two of the expedition would return, to babble crazily of monsters and blackness and throbbings in their heads. They had lost some of their best minds that way before they gave up. Except for one further experiment. They outfitted a remote control ship with an assortment of animals and sent this to the neighboring continent, accompanied by a ship manned by a higher-order Siykulan who directed the animal craft without himself going close enough to the other continent to be affected.