It was not until he was halfway down the hill that he remembered he had promised to let her help with the sign project. Of course it was too late to do anything about it then. Besides, Crystal's feet were unsteady on the melting path. She needed his arm about her for support. And her hair had a tantalizing fragrance all its own.... IX It took all of the men, working steadily from dawn to dusk every day, two full weeks to construct the signal. When it was done, Greg looking down upon it from their hilltop eyrie, gazed upon it with approval and found it good. Across the mile-wide flatness of the plain they had heaped huge piles of branches, faggots, brush, forming the letters "S O S." Green, they stood out boldly; withered and faded, their brownness would be equally clear. Hannigan was pleased with his share of the work, too. "--wire," he finished, "from the bottom of the 'S' to the cave. We just about had enough, too. Anyhow, if the ship should happen to come at night instead of in the daytime, all we got to do is push the switch, and a spark'll jump in the tinder. Send the whole signal up in flame in less time than you can say 'integral calculus.'" He frowned. "If," he added, "a ship comes at all. Which of course I couldn't say yes or no." "It will come," said Greg absently. He said it because it was the thing to say; as a matter of habit. He was not even thinking of his words. He was thinking, now that this project had been accomplished, of other things. Of a silo that must be built. They had nine head of livestock now, due to Tommy O'Doul's persistence. The beasts would have to be provided with winter quarters. One goat in the cave had not been so bad, last month. But nine goats--Perhaps, he thought, that small cave next to ours. If we could dig into it through the west wall ... make a small opening.... His lack of concentration brought a false conclusion from the third man in the group. Ralph Breadon stirred restively. "You should say," he insinuated, "if Malcolm _wants_ a ship to come!" The words penetrated Greg's thoughts of the future slowly. He turned a blank, questioning look on the other. "Eh?" "I merely said," repeated Breadon, "that one could not condemn a man in your position for showing lack of enthusiasm in a rescue party." Greg stared at him thoughtfully. "Just what do you mean by that, Breadon?" Breadon shrugged. "Isn't it fairly obvious? Two short months ago you were a nobody. A secretary without background, position or authority. Today you're the demigod of Titan. Sir Boss. I don't complain; I merely comment. You have everything a man could ask for. Authority ... security ... a woman...." The last jolted Malcolm out of his apathy. He took a swift step forward, gripped Breadon's lapels with a fist grown heavier, rougher, with labor. "If you mean Crystal, Breadon--"