small pack.

"Lost the right," he explained, "which was the only one I ever used
anyway. Never knew until now why I kept this. How does it feel, Alice?"

I might have known he'd worm her name out of her. It occurred to me that
Pop's ideas of scrounging might extend to Alice's favors. The urge
doesn't die out when you get old, they tell me. Not completely.

He'd also helped her replace the knife on her stump with the hook.

By that time I'd poked into all the Pilot's pockets I could get at
without stripping him and found nothing but three irregularly shaped
blobs of metal, still hot to the touch. Under the charred spots, of
course.

I didn't want the job of stripping him. Somebody else could do a little
work, I told myself. I've been bothered by bodies before (as who hasn't,
I suppose?) but this one was really beginning to make me sick. Maybe I
was cracking up, it occurred to me. Murder is a very wearing business,
as all Deathlanders know, and although some crack earlier than others,
all crack in the end.

I must have been showing how I was feeling because, "Cheer up, Ray," Pop
said. "You and Alice have done a big murder--I'd say the subject was six
foot ten--so you ought to be happy. You've drawn a blank on his pockets
but there's still the plane."

"Yeah, that's right," I said, brightening a little. "There's still the
stuff in the plane." I knew there were some items I couldn't hope for,
like .38 shells, but there'd be food and other things.

"Nuh-uh," Pop corrected me. "I said _the plane_. You may have thought
it's wrecked, but I don't. Have you taken a real gander at it? It's
worth doing, believe me."

I jumped up. My heart was suddenly pounding. I was glad of an excuse to
get away from the body, but there was a lot more in my feelings than
that. I was filled with an excitement to which I didn't want to give a
name because it would make the let-down too great.

One of the wide stubby wings of the plane, raking downward so that its
tip almost touched the concrete, had hidden the undercarriage of the
fuselage from our view. Now, coming around the wing, I saw that _there
was no undercarriage_.

I had to drop to my hands and knees and scan around with my cheek next
to the concrete before I'd believe it. _The "wrecked" plane was at all
points at least six inches off the ground._

* * * * *

I got to my feet again. I was shaking. I wanted to talk but I couldn't.
I grabbed the