But they did find the rhizoids. Not as many as they had hoped for, because the Overton gun could be taken into the swamp belt only a little way, but they found far, far more than had ever been brought out before. Day after day the tiny hoard of stones grew. Night after night the three men sat around the cabin of the Space Lark, gloating over them. At least Bill Olger and the Martian D'ulio did. Only Mallard was sullen and dissatisfied. Once he put his feelings into words. "Look. You two are all steamed up because we've got a handful of these things. A handful that's got to be divided three ways. Do you know how long your share's going to last once you hit the bright lights in Venusport? Well, I'll tell you. A year, two years. Maybe three years if you're careful. You might be satisfied with that but I'm not. Me, I want those hundreds of millions we were talking about when we started this thing. Yes, and if I can figure out some way of getting further into this damned swamp I'll get them, too." Olger looked at him in unconcealed disgust. "I can understand a man being a bum loser, Mallard, but not a bum winner. You know that we've already gone as far into the swamp belt as we can with the Overton and if you think I'm going into that hellhole without the ray gun, you're crazy. It makes my skin crawl to think of the narrow escapes we've had, even with it. Be reasonable, fella." Mallard nodded glumly. He knew, of course, that Olger was right, but the nightly sight of the rhizoids, softly gleaming in his hands, was raising a fever in his brain that would not be stilled. If there was only some way to establish contact with the natives, maybe get a guide. He fondled the rhizoid in his fingers and stared thoughtfully at the sultry fires within its depths. The next day he started making overtures to a native girl they had dubbed Tiny. The natives they had seen flitting about the swamp seemed to average around seven feet tall but Tiny was not much larger than an Earth girl. She seemed very young, barely out of her childhood, although they had no way of knowing the age of these natives. Like youngsters of any race, she was filled with curiosity and she often hung around the outskirts of the camp after her tribesmen had been driven away. Mallard set to work winning her confidence the same way he would have done with a wild animal. The first time she was alone he squatted down on the ground and made encouraging sounds toward the fern tree behind which she hid. Then he took a piece of Earth candy from his pocket, nibbled at it, made sounds of delight, and threw it on the ground before her. He walked away and when he looked back and saw her pick up the candy, he knew that he had made a start. In another two days, he was squatting on the ground, a few feet from her, trying to learn the rudiments of her language.