Here, beneath a girdered ceiling adorned with the stunted evergreens grown by Earthmen on Mars, a table had been set up for the marriage parties of each city, according to tradition. Accustomed to the fabricated foods of Earth, Lynne was astonished at the lavish display of barbecued boar, Marsapples and other delicacies, including plump forty-pound capon-turkeys, the pride of the husbandry labs. She told herself she was not hungry. But she ate notwithstanding--while Rolf and the other men went right on drinking. Thanks to the small, closely interrelated population of the Red Planet, there was much intermingling of the groups, and Lynne, to her surprise, found herself facing a grinning, strapping, dark-skinned girl who said, “Welcome, Lynne Fenlay. Try some of the food at our table.” It was the young animal husbandry girl--Joanna Wheatley--who had shared a cabin with her on the spaceship during the journey from Earth the year before. Joanna seemed to have entered into the festivities with all the vitality of her youth and her uninhibited mixture of Caucasian, Oriental and Hamitic blood strains. But when Lynne asked her how her work was going, Joanna’s face fell. “I don’t like it,” she said. “We must irrigate to support any sort of animal life, and irrigation is draining the moisture from the atmosphere table faster than we can create it. But you must know the problem, Lynne. It’s the _farbish_ curse of all Mars.” “I know,” said Lynne, trying to encourage the girl. “But one of these days we’ll have it licked and, if I know farmers, you’ll all be complaining because too much rain is spoiling the crops.” Joanna failed to smile. She said, “I’d give my right arm for that day to come tomorrow. If we hadn’t been able to install a transmuter to feed a small pond recently, our cattle would be dead. And our farm--Woomera Station--has the most fertile soil on Mars. Right next door, it’s so radioactive we’ve had to fence it off.” “Radioactive?” said Lynne, wondering why she hadn’t heard of such a deposit. “Maybe that’s not the exact word,” said Joanna. “_Crehut_, I’m no geologist--I’m in husbandry. But it has remarkable health-giving qualities--and some deadly ones as well. Still, it’s not solving the moisture problem for us.” “You really feel it’s serious?” asked Lynne, sensing the deep concern in the girl’s mind, the fright. “Unless some new factor can be found that will increase moisture, it will defeat us,” said Joanna solemnly. Then, actually shaking herself out of her despondency, the dark girl went on, “But this is not the time for care. My best friend has just married and will soon be off for Earth to have her baby. You come and see our farm as soon as you can, will you, Lynne? I think you’d be interested.” “I know I shall be,” Lynne said, pressing the girl’s hand. “As soon as I can.” She joined Joanna in a toast to her friend and groom, then brought the girl to the Barkutburg table to meet Revere, Lao Mei-O’Connell and Rolf.