"That's understandable," Loudons said, "after what their ancestors went through in the Last War. But this crowd, here! The descendants of an old United States Army infantry platoon, with a fully developed religion centered on a slain and resurrected god--Normally, it would take thousands of years for a slain-god religion to develop, and then only from the field-fertility magic of primitive agriculturists. Well, you saw these people's fields from the air. Some of the members of that old platoon were men who knew the latest methods of scientific farming; they didn't need naive fairy tales about the planting and germination of seed." "Sure this religion isn't just a variant of Christianity?" "Absolutely not. In the first place, these Sacred Books can't be the Bible--you heard Tenant Jones say that they mentioned firearms that used cartridges. That means that they can't be older than 1860 at the very earliest. And in the second place, this slain god wasn't crucified or put to death by any form of execution; he perished, together with his enemy, in combat, and both god and devil were later resurrected. The Enemy is supposed to be the master mind back of these cannibal savages in the woods and also in the ruins." "Did you get a look at these Sacred Books, or find out what they might be?" Loudons shook his head disgustedly. "Every time I brought up the question, they evaded. The Tenant sent the Reader out to bring in this old lady, Irene Klein--she was a perfect gold mine of information about the history and traditions of the Toon, by the way--and then he sent him out on some other errand, undoubtedly to pass the word not to talk to us about their religion." "I don't get that," Altamont said. "They showed me everything they had--their gunshop, their powder mill, their defenses, everything." He smoked in silence for a moment. "Say, this slain god couldn't be the original platoon commander, could he?" "No. They have the greatest respect for his memory--decorate his grave regularly, drink toasts to him--but he hasn't been deified. They got the idea for this deity of theirs out of the Sacred Books." Loudons gnawed the end of his cigar and frowned. "Monty, this has me worried like the devil, because I believe that they suspect that you are the Slain and Risen One." "Could be, at that. I know the Tenant came up to me, very respectfully, and said, 'I hope you don't think, sir, that I was presumptuous in trying to display my humble deductive abilities to _you_.'" "What did you say?" Loudons demanded rather sharply. "Told him certainly not; that he'd used a good quick method of demonstrating that he and his people weren't like those mindless subhumans in the woods."