d do it, could create out of nothing--Glaudot included.

"You want to go to the spaceship?" he asked.

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"Then teach me the secret of creation."

"Of making things, you mean? Why, there isn't any secret. Should there
be any secret? You merely--create."

"Show me," said Glaudot.

* * * * *

A table appeared, and savory dishes of food.

"Magician!" cried Chandler.

A great roan stallion, bridled but without a saddle, materialized. Robin
swung up on its broad back and used her bare knees for balance and
control. The stallion cantered off.

"Wait!" cried Glaudot. "Please wait."

The stallion cantered back and Robin alighted. The stallion began to
graze on a patch of grass which suddenly appeared on the naked rock. The
stallion seemed quite content.

"You mean," the new Chandler asked in an awed voice, "she just _made_
these things? The food. The table. The horse ..."

"Yes," said Glaudot. He concentrated his will on creating a single
flower in the new field of grass. He concentrated his whole being.

But nothing happened.

He glared almost angrily at Robin, as if it were her fault. "I don't
have the power you have," he said.

She nodded. "Only Charlie and me." She looked at the roan stallion.
"Beauty, isn't he? I'll present him to Charlie." She turned to Glaudot.
"Now take me to the ship."

"We ought to get started back there, Mr. Glaudot," Chandler said.

"Yes? Why?"

"But--but I don't have to tell you why! This girl is one of the most
important discoveries that has ever been made. The ability to create
material things ... out of nothing...."

"Show me your planet," Glaudot told Robin, ignoring the younger man. "We
can talk about the spaceship later. You see, I'm an explorer and it's
my job to explore new worlds." He spoke slowly, simply, as he would
speak to a child. Somehow, although the girl was not a child and was
quite the most astonishingly beautiful girl he had ever seen, he thought
that was the right approach.

"Now wait a minute, Mr. Glaudot," Chandler protested. "We both know it's
our duty to bring her to Captain Purcell."

"Maybe you think it's your duty," Glaudot told the younger man. "I don't
think it's mine. And before you run off to the ship to tell that
precious captain of yours, you ought to know that you'd be dead right
now if it hadn't been for me."

"You?"

"Hell, yes. Those Indians or whatever they were killed you. I asked th