After they had eaten, one boy was examined by Mr. Qu’an in first-aid and artificial respiration. Listening, Charlie found that there was much that he must learn and unlearn; conditions were different. Then Rusty Dunlop broke out a mouth organ and they sang.
Finally Mr. Qu’an yawned and said, “Sack in, Scouts. Hard day tomorrow. Pedro, first watch — then rotate down the list.”
Charlie thought he would never get to sleep. The ground underneath his waterproof was not hard, but he was not used to sleeping with lighted sky — in his eyes. Besides that, he was acutely aware of strange noises in the bush around them.
He was awakened by a shout. “Dragons! Heads up, gang! Watch yourself’!”
Without stopping to think, Charlie reached down, grabbed Nixie to his chest, then looked around. Several boys were pointing. Charlie looked and thought at first that he was seeing a helicopter.
Suddenly it came intO perspective and he realized that it was an enormous insect…unbelievably huge, larger than had been seen on Earth since the Carboniferous period, a quarter of a billion years ago.
It was coming toward camp. Something about it — its wings? — made a whining buzz. —
It approached the tall poles with the smelly rags, hesitated, turned away. Mr. Qu’an looked thoughtfully after it, glanced at Hans.
“They’re not swarming,” Hans stated positively. “Anyhow, that was a male.”
“Mmm…No doubt you’re right. Still — double guard the rest of the night, down the roster. Tenderfeet makee-learnee only.” He lay down.
The troop started back the next morning — “Morning” by clock; Charlie, awakening stiff and sleepy to the same dull-bright, changeless sky, felt as if he had napped too long but not well during an afternoon. They headed back the way they had come. Once on the cleared road, Hans left Charlie and looked up the Scoutmaster. He was back shortly, grinning. “Stay over night with me? You and Nixie?”
“Gee! Is it okay? Your folks won’t mind?”
“They like company. You can ride in with Paw in the morning.”
“It ‘ould be swell, Hans…but how about my folks? Uh, do you suppose Jock could raise ’em on the portable?”
“Everything’s okay. Mr. Qu’an will phone ’em when the troop gets in…and you can call them soon as we get to my place. If they holler, I can still catch you up with the troop.”
So it was settled. When they got to the little side road for the Kuppenheimer plantation Mr. Qu’an ordered them to head for the house and no monkey business. They solemnly agreed and left the troop.
The side road was a dark tunnel; Hans hurried them through it. A few hundred yards farther on they came out into cultivated fields and Hans slowed down. “That’s the only bad stretch. You okay?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s check Nixie.”
If anything had attached itself to Nixie, they could not find ir and his wagging tail gave no sign of distress; they went on. Charlie looked around with interest. “What are you cropping?”
“Jungle bread on the right. Once it’s. established you don’t. have to worry about it, smothers anything else, mostly. Other side is mutated — bananas. They take more care.”
Shortly they came to the house, on a rise and with no growth around it — a typical Venus settler’s house, long and low and built nf spongy logs and native bamboo. Hans’ mother greeted Charlie as if he were a neighbor boy, seen daily, and she petted Nixie. “He minds me of a hund I had in Hamburg.” Then she set out banana cake and mugs of coffee that were mostly milk. Nixie had his cake on the floor.
There were several kids around, younger than Hans and looking like him. Charlie did not get them straight, as they talked even less than Hans did and hung back from Nixie — unlike their mother, they found him utterly strange. But presently, seeing how the. monster behaved with Hans and with their mother, they timidly patted him. After that, Nixie was the center of attention while they continued shyly to ignore Charlie.
Hans bolted his cake, hurried out. He was back a few minutes later. “Maw, where’s the flamer?”