lop down, they carefully extinguished the fire, scattering
the ashes. The I. F. P. agent felt greatly strengthened by his meal
and assisted his host with the evening chores. Nightfall found them in
their darkened cave, ready for an evening's yarning.

* * * * *

"I took the liberty of examining your effects," the Martian began.
"Sort of introduced you to myself. The fact that you wore the Martian
army uniform was no fine recommendation to me, though I once wore it
myself. Your weapons I hid, except for the knife you needed to eat.
But you'll find them in that little hollow right over your head. The
fact that you're an enemy of Scar Balta is enough for the present.
That alone is repayment for the labor of carrying you up all this
way."

Murray then told him of work on Mars. There was no use concealing
anything from one who was obviously a fellow fugitive, and who might
be persuaded to do away with his guest, should he have strong enough
suspicions. He told of the war cabal, of the financial-political
oligarchy and its opposing monarchists. He related his own discovery
and arrest; the pretended enlistment in Scar Balta's forces which
terminated in Scar's prompt and ruthless action. When he finished he
sensed that he had made a deep impression on his host. The latter
spoke.

"What you have told me, Murray, relieves me very much," he said. "I
know that we can work together. You might as well know how I came to
be here. Perhaps I look forty or fifty years old. Well, I'm thirty. I
was news director for the televisor corporations. I didn't have to be
very smart to realize that a lot of the stuff we were ordered to send
out was propaganda, pure and simple. Propaganda for the war interests,
propaganda for the financiers. Commercial propaganda too.

"Why, the stuff we put out was a crime! The service to the
teletabloids was the worst. You know how they outstrip the news; hired
actors take the part of personages in the news. Ever watch 'em? The
way they enact a murder is good, isn't it?"

* * * * *

"We got orders to bear down on your service too, the I. F. P. Your
crew has too many points of contact, hiking from planet to planet. The
high command couldn't see things the bankers liked, I guess.

"So whenever a man of the I. F. P. figured in the news we always gave
him the worst of it. We hired bums to play his part, criminals,
vicious degenerates. People belie