The Mercurian had scratched nine parallel lines, only a few of them visible on the rocky ground. Now it scratched other lines, perpendicular to these. Lamoureux barked, "A checkerboard! That's what it is! Has anybody got one?" Marsden had a pocket chess set. He took it out. The Mercurian's eyes brightened. It sat down suddenly on the hard ground. "I'll be damned," said Lamoureux. "He wants to play a game. Go ahead, Marsden. Entertain our guest." The men were grinning again. Marsden squatted down on the ground and began to set up the men. The Mercurian stretched out two of its paws--three-fingered affairs, the fingers almost human--and seized one white chessman and one black. It hid the paws behind its back, then held them out again. Marsden chose the white, and moved forward the queen's pawn. The Mercurian countered and the game was on. It was Kalinoff who must have taught this creature the game, and, if it did nothing else, the incident showed that the explorer was just as screwy as ever, and probably alive somewhere on the planet. Or did it merely show that he _had_ been alive? Lamoureux, undecided, watched the curious battle of wits. Half an hour later, Marsden, thoroughly beaten, demanded, "Who says this thing isn't intelligent?" III The Mercurian was sitting up, wagging its head from side to side as if waiting for approbation. But Lamoureux, quite sure now that it wouldn't or couldn't talk, wouldn't have given a damn if it had beaten every champion on Earth. In addition, he was bothered by the fact that it was snowing again. The flakes had just begun to fall, large and feathery, and Lamoureux himself soon had a powdered look. Most of the other men were still gathered around the Mercurian. But one of them, Sprott, came over to Lamoureux and glanced up at the sky as if puzzled. "It's following us around, Captain." "What is?" "The snow, sir." "Don't be silly, Sprott. We just happen to have run into a streak of bad weather." Sprott went on stubbornly, "It looks funny to me. First it rains and snows for ten days around the ship. But it doesn't rain, or at least it doesn't snow, here. An hour after we get to this place, though, it starts coming down." Lamoureux brushed some of the white flakes off his shoulders. "All right, Sprott, suppose you are right. It _is_ following us around. That's no reason to alarm the other men, is it?" "I guess not, sir.... I won't say a word. But there's something else I wanted to speak to you about, sir. It's McCracken." "You believe he's responsible for the snow?" Sprott looked astonished. "I don't mean that, sir. I don't see how he could be." "I do. He shot a Mercurian. I have an idea that they're the ones who are causing the peculiar weather we've been having." "Why would they do that, sir?"