hand rasping across the
surface. And it responded so quickly to that touch that Shann guessed it
was even lighter and easier to handle than he had first thought.

Thorvald headed back, herding the thing before him. And when he climbed
out on the rock, Shann was pulling up his trophy. They flipped the find
over, to discover it hollow. They had, in effect, a ready-made craft not
unlike a canoe with blunted bows. But the substance was surely organic:
Was it shell? Shann speculated, running his finger tips over the
irregular surface.

The Survey officer dressed. "We have our boat," he commented. "Now for
Utgard--"

Use this frail thing to dare the trip to the islands? But Shann did not
protest. If the officer determined to try such a voyage, he would do it.
And neither did the younger man doubt that he would accompany Thorvald.

9. ONE ALONE

Once again the beach was a wide expanse of shingle, drying fast under a
sun hotter than any Shann had yet known on Warlock. Summer had taken a
big leap forward. The Terrans worked in partial shade below a cliff
overhang, not only for the protection against the sun's rays, but also
as a precaution against any roving Throg air patrol.

Under Thorvald's direction the curious shell dragged from the sea--if it
were a shell, and the texture as well as the general shape suggested
that--was equipped with a framework to act as a stabilizing outrigger.
What resulted was certainly an odd-looking craft, but one which obeyed
the paddles and rode the waves easily.

In the full sunlight the outline of islands was
clear-cut--red-and-gray-rock above an aquamarine sea. The Terrans had
sighted no more of the sea monsters, and the major evidence of native
life along the shore was a new species of clak-claks, roosting in cliff
holes and scavenging along the sands, and various queer fish and shelled
things stranded in small tide pools--to the delight of the wolverines,
who fished eagerly up and down the beach, ready to investigate all
debris of the storm.

"That should serve." Thorvald tightened the last lashing, straightening
up, his fists resting on his hips, to regard the craft with a measure of
pride.

Shann was not quite so content. He had matched the Survey officer in
industry, but the need for haste still eluded him. So the ship--such as
it was--was ready. Now they would be off to explore Thorvald's Utgard.
But a small and nagging doubt inside the younger man restrained his
enthu