As they huddled cold and uncomfortable in the gathering darkness, Canham grinned apologetically and with the air of a conjuror producing trained seals from a hat, gravely presented three crushed and bent but undeniable cigarettes, distinctly contraband on the ship. He eyed Bradford with mock contrition. "I can't imagine how I got these in my kit. I guess when I was packing everything just went black. Of course, if you'd care to be my companion in crime...?" Bradford frowned darkly. "I ought to have you in irons for this, Mr. Canham! Now give me one of those things before I break your arm!" With a muttered word of thanks, Rodriguez laid his carefully aside on a handy rock and slid out of the shelter into the early dark. Canham tossed a facetious remark after him and received the usual unprintable reply. The other two sat, inhaling luxuriously. Bradford sighed comfortably. "I think he's snapping out of it. Good thing you noticed what was happening. We'll all have to keep an eye on each other from now on." "It's enough to drive anybody nuts. Have you noticed anything funny about--well, about the _feel_ of the place?" Bradford looked at him uneasily. "What do you mean 'funny'!" "It's just a feeling I get; you know how a brand-new house that's never been lived in feels different than an old house that's been deserted? They're both empty, but it's a different emptiness. It's the same way with pieces of country--where we trained on that high desert country in Arizona, it had a new, sort of _unused_ feeling about it." Bradford felt an unacknowledged tingling along his nerve ends. "Well, this is a lot like it--" he tossed out defensively. In spite of himself he slid a sidelong glance at the surrounding dark. Canham went on unnoticing. "That's what I mean--it's a lot _like_ it, but it's different too. Like it had been lived in for God knows how long, but everybody moved out." "But there's no ruins, or anything--" "Maybe there wouldn't be any after a million years or so. And how do we know what's under the sand? You can't even find your own footprints fifteen minutes after you've made them." Bradford laughed shortly. "Well, keep your spooky ideas to yourself. We don't want Rodriguez going clear off his rocker." * * * * * They sat watching the fading landscape where the dust-devils still swooped and swung. Finally, with a faint frown, Bradford glanced at his chronometer. "Roddy's been gone quite a while," he said uneasily. He stood suddenly and lifted his voice sharply. "Rodriguez! Hey, amigo--andale Ud.!" He glanced at Canham. "I don't like this--we don't know what we're liable to run onto in this damned country...."