In the elevator, on the way down, he said, "Those defense mechs. God damn. I wish those defense mechs...." I nudged him. The elevator operator was looking at him closely, and there's no use taking any chances. He ought to know better. He was out of the elevator as soon as the door opened at ground level. He walked toward the front entrance. I had to run again to catch up with him. "Hey, what's the hurry?" I asked. "Can I come along too?" He didn't answer, just kept walking. Looking straight ahead, still not hurrying, but moving rapidly nevertheless. When we got outside, he turned right and continued at the same steady pace. I tugged at his arm. "Hey, the bar I mentioned is the other way." He shook my hand loose and kept walking. "I want to go this way." I shrugged and trotted to keep up with him. "Okay. If you know of a better place, we'll go there. But--" "This damn headache," he said. "I've had it all day. All afternoon." "My fault," I said. "I started you puzzling over a problem that concerns only me...." He wasn't listening. There were few pedestrians on this level of traffic; most people who walked places took the ambulators on the second level. Down here the sidewalks were narrow and the curbs high, the streets being used almost exclusively for heavy transfer and delivery trucks. A high metal railing along the street-side of the walk prevented careless pedestrians from stepping in the path of the huge, swift, rumbling vehicles. But there were no railings at the intersections. And at the next intersection, Maxwell stepped off the curb, shifted his course just a fraction, and went on at a tangent that would have had him smack in the middle of a truck-traffic lane. * * * * * I grabbed his arm and pulled hard, to get him headed back in the right direction. "What the hell are you trying to do--get yourself killed?" Which was almost exactly what I'd started to say. But he was the one who said it. So I just said, "_Huh?_" He jerked his arm free and continued walking--straight toward an oncoming 100-ton semi. I had a sudden idea of what was going on, and acted rapidly. I set the defense mech down, because you can't handle a man Maxwell's size with only one hand. I grabbed his arm again, this time with both hands, and pulled as hard as I could. It jerked him off balance and out of danger. The semi roared past. And Maxwell turned on me with sudden, violent anger. "Listen," he snapped, "what in hell's the matter with you? What do you think you're doing?" I didn't argue with him. I took careful aim and threw a haymaker, giving it everything I had. It caught the point of his chin squarely and jarred me to my ankle. He swayed a little bit and his face went blank, but he didn't fall. For which I shall be eternally grateful.