self
quickly in the crowd of people that he hoped would fill the place. There
would be risks, but he would take them. It would be better than running
out of air and food in space.

[Illustration]

It had been the best possible plan, and it had gone wrong, all wrong. He
had been caught, before he knew it, in the gravity of a planet he had
overlooked. The lifeboat had torn apart under the combined stresses of
its forward momentum and its side rockets blasting full force, and he
had been hurled free in his space suit, falling slowly at first, then
faster, faster, faster--

The automatic parachutes had suddenly sprung into operation when he
reached a critical speed, and he had slowed down and stopped tumbling.
He fell more gently, feet first, and when he landed it was with a shock
that jarred but did no real damage.

* * * * *

Slowly he picked himself up and fumbled at the air valve. Something in
the intake tubes had jammed under the shock of landing, and the air was
no longer circulating properly. Filled with the moisture of his own
breath, it felt hot and clammy, and clouded the viewplates.

If he had kept all his wits about him he would have tried to remember,
before he took a chance, whether the planet had an oxygen atmosphere,
and whether the oxygen was of sufficient concentration to support human
life. Not that he had any real choice, but it would have been good to
know. As it was, he turned the air valve automatically, and listened
nervously as the stale air hissed out and the fresh air hissed in.

He took a deep breath. It didn't kill him. Instead, it sent his blood
racing around with new energy. Slowly the moisture evaporated from his
viewplates. Slowly he began to see.

He perceived that he was not alone. A group of people stood in front of
him, respectful, their own eyes full of fear and wonder. Some one
uttered a hoarse cry and pointed at his helmet. The unclouding of the
viewplates must have stricken them with awe.

The air was wonderful to breathe. He would have liked to remove his
helmet and fill his lungs with it unhampered, expose his face to its
soft caress, expand his chest with the constriction of the suit. But
these people--

They must have seen him tumble down from the sky and land unhurt. They
carried food and flowers, and now they were kneeling down to him as to
a--Suddenly he realized. To them he was a god.

The thought of it made him weak. To Malevski a