“Yours?”
“Half a mile in.”
A couple of miles farther the troop left the road and started across country. But this was high land, fairly dry and semi-open, no more difficult than most forest back Earthside. Hans merely saw to it that Nixie stayed close at heel and cautioned Charlie, “Mind where you step…and if anything drops on you, brush it off quick.”
They broke out shortly into a clearing, made camp, and started supper. The clearing was man-made, having been flamed down, although a green carpet had formed underfoot. The first step in making camp was to establish four corners of a rectangle, using Scout staffs; then Jock Quentin, the troop’s radioman, clamped mirrors to them. After much fiddling he had a system rigged by which a powerful flashlight beam bounced around the rectangle and back into a long tube which housed a photocell; the camp was now surrounded by an invisible fence. Whenever the beam was broken an alarm would sound. —
While this was going on other Scouts were lashing staffs together, three to a unit, into long poles. Rags were sopped with a sickly-sweet fluid, fastened to the ends and the poles were erected, one at each corner of the rectangle. Charlie sniffed and made a face, “What’s that stuff’?”
“For dragonflies. They hate it.”
“I don’t blame ’em!”
“Haven’t seen one lately. But if they were swarming, you’d rub it on your hide and be glad of the stink.”
“Hans? Is it true that a dragonfly sting can paralyze a man?”
“No.”
“Huh? But they say — ”
“Takes three or four stings. One sting will just do for an arm or a leg — unless it gets you in the spine.”
“Oh.” Charlie couldn’t see much improvement.
“I was stung once,” Hans added.
“You were? But you’re still alive.”
“My paw fought it off and killed it. Couldn’t use my left leg for a while.”
“Boy! You must be lucky.”
“Unlucky, I’d say. But not unlucky as it was. We ate it.”
“You ate it?”
“Sure. Mighty tasty, they are.”
Charlie felt queasy. “You eat insects?.”
Hans thought about it. “You ever eat a lobster?”
“Sure. But that’s different.”
“It sure is. Seen pictures of lobsters. Disgusting.”
This gourmets’ discussion was broken up by the Scoutmaster. “Hans! How about scaring up some oil weed?”
“Okay.” Hans headed far the bush. Charlie followed and Nixie trotted after. Hans stopped. “Make him stay. behind. We can’t gather weed and watch him, too.”
“All right.”
Nixie protested, since it was his duty to guard Charlie. But once he understood that Charlie meant it and would not be swayed, he trotted back, tail in air, and supervised campmaking.
The boys went on. Charlie asked, “This clearing…is it the regular Scout camp?”
Hans looked surprised. “I guess so. Paw and I aren’t going to set a crop till we flame it a few more times.”
“You mean it’s yours? Why didn’t you say so?”
“You never asked.” Presently he added, “Some planters, they don’t like Scouts tromping around, maybe hurting a crop.”
Oil weed was a low plant, resembling bracken. They gathered it in silence, except once when Hans brushed something off Charlie’s arm. “Want to watch that.”
While they were loading with weed Hans made quite a long speech: “These dragonflies, they aren’t much. You hear them coming. You can fight ’em off, even with your hands, because they can’t sting till they light. They won’t sting anyway, except when they’re swarming — then it’s just females, ready to lay eggs.” He added thoughtfully, “They’re stupid, they don’t know the eggs won’t hatch in a man.”
“They won’t?”
“No. Not that it does the man much good; he dies anyway. But they think they’re stinging a big amphibian, thing called kteela.”
“I’ve seen pictures of kteela.”
“So? Wait till you see one. But don’t let it scare you. Kteela can’t hurt you and they’re more scared than you are — they just look fearsome.” He brushed at his arm. “It’s little things you got to watch.”
Oil weed burned with a clear steady flame; the boys had a hot dinner and hot tea. No precautions were taken against fire; of the many hazards on Venus, fire was not one. The problem was to get anything to burn, not to avoid forest lire. —