"What the--", Hall spluttered to himself, "seems to be a family reunion of some sort." Suddenly, prompted by some impish quirk he shouted to his bizarre audience, "Hello there." A moment of silence and then a chorus of rasping sounds sent back "Ah-low-da." Probably the closest that their crude vocal apparatus could interpret his alien accents. Continuing his mock procedure, John stretched his hands aloft, and then in stiff, prim fashion bowed low. With solemn dignity the assembly emulated his action. John leaped twenty feet into the air with glee, and as he floated slowly to the ground he watched the pitiful attempts below to equal his feat. For a moment everything was still and John good-naturedly surveyed the grotesque caricatures of human beings that surrounded him. "Well," John finally commented candidly, "at least we are in agreement over what line of action to follow, which is more than I could say for a lot of human friends of mine." A blurred attempt at imitation followed. Then abruptly it was dark. Just like that. Perhaps you have seen darkness fall in the tropics? Just ten or fifteen minutes of twilight and then it's dark. The thin atmosphere of Ganymede did not maintain twilight very long. John cursed a little as he backed his erratic way back to the ship, revealed only by the gleam of the stars on its rounded hull. He groped about for the tear in the surface of the glimmering shell, found it and tumbled hastily in to escape the terrible cold that was forming in the absence of the sun's heat. The pilot room was rapidly assuming the aspect of an underground cavern with long, gleaming icicles hanging from the top. John grumbled a bit, and then opened the door to the small supply room. Closed it quickly behind him and sat down on a box of canned beans. Funny, he reflected, that they had never been able to produce synthetic foods in feasible form. Perhaps habit was harder to change than the scientists had thought. People still liked their meals--solid. He reached out and switched on the feeble storeroom light which operated from an independent source. Its yellow glow brought back a comforting nostalgia. He dined frugally on a can of beans and some biscuits; turned the heating units of his suit up to 70 degrees, and dozed into fitful slumber. * * * * *