achines to run the machines," sighed Blackie. "I
dunno; I was too young. Okay, Vito?"

The relieving pair fell to. Mike stepped out of range of the flying
chips to sit at the edge of the soft grass which was attempting another
invasion of the gravel shoulder. Propelled by the strength of Vito's
powerful torso, a single chip spun through the air to his feet. He
picked it up and held it to his nose. It had a good, clean smell.

When at length the tree crashed down across the road, Blackie led them
to the ambush he had chosen that morning. It was fifty yards up the road
toward the ruined city--off to the side where a clump of trees and
bushes provided shade and concealment.

"Wish we brought something to eat," Vito said.

"Didn't know it would take so long to creep up on 'em this morning,"
said Blackie. "The women'll have somethin' when we get back."

"They better," said Mike.

He measured a slender branch with his eye. After a moment, he pulled out
a hunting knife, worn thin by years of sharpening, and cut off a
straight section of the branch. He began whittling.

"You damn' fool!" Sid objected. "You want the busted spot on the tree to
show?"

"Aw, _they_ ain't got the brains to notice."

"The hell they ain't! It stands out like one o' them old street signs.
D'ya think they can tell, Blackie?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Blackie rose cautiously to peer over a bed of
blackberry bushes. "Guess I'll skin up a tree an' see if anything's in
sight."

He hitched up his pants, looking for an easy place to climb. His blue
denims had been stoutly made, but weakened by many rips and patches, and
he did not want to rip them on a snag. It was becoming difficult to find
good, unrotted clothing in the old ruins.

* * * * *

Choosing a branch slightly over his head, he sprang for it, pulled,
kicked against the trunk, and flowed up into the foliage with no
apparent effort. The others waited below. Sid glanced up occasionally,
Vito idly kicked at one of the clubs made from an old two-by-four.

The other lay beneath the piled jackets; but enough of the end protruded
to show that they had been chopped from the same timber, gray-painted on
one side, stained and gouged on the other where boards had once been
nailed. A coil of rope lay beside the axes.

High in the upper branches, Blackie braced himself with negligent
confidence and stared along the concrete ribbon.

_From here_, he thought, _you'd almo