determine whether it was permanent
or temporary and whether its present sluggishness could be turned to
good account. As a sort of side project--perhaps to show the wideness of
their scope--they undertook as well to study the reasons for the failure
of the wartime inoculation of the steppes as contrasted with the
original too successful California one. They planned a compilation of
their findings, tentatively scheduled to cover a hundred and fortyseven
foliovolumes which would remain the basic work for all approaching the
problem of attacking the grass; and as an important public figure who
had some firsthand knowledge of the subject they requested me to visit,
at my own expense, the newest outposts of the weed and favor them with
my observations. I was not averse to the suggestion, for the authority
of the commission would admit me to areas closed to ordinary citizens
and I was toying with the idea it might be possible in some way to use
the devilgrass as an ingredient in our food products.

_48._ George Thario having shown in many ways he was growing stale on
the job and in need of a vacation, I decided to take him with me.
Besides, if the thought of using the weed as a source of cheap
rawmaterial came to anything, the engagement of his interest at an early
stage would increase his usefulness. Before setting out for the field I
read reports of investigators on the spot and was disquieted to note a
unanimous mention of new stirrings on the edges of the green glacier. I
decided to lose no time and we set out at once in my personal plane for
a mountain lodge kindly offered by a business acquaintance. Here, for
the next few weeks, keeping in touch with my manifold affairs only by
telephone, Joe and I devoted ourselves to observing the grass.

Or rather I did. George Thario's idea of gathering data differed
radically from mine--I feel safe to say, as well as from that of almost
any other intelligent man. In a way he reminded me of the cameraman
Slafe in his brooding obliviousness to everything except the grass; but
Slafe had been doing a job for which he was being paid, whereas Joe was
only yielding to his own mood. For hours he lay flat on his belly,
staring through binoculars; at other times he wandered about the edge,
looking at, feeling, and smelling it and once I saw him bend down and
nibble at it like a sheep.

"You know, A W," he observed enthusiastically--he always called me "A W"
with just enough of a curious