their musical instruments; they seem
to have put more skill into making them than anything else. I'm
going to take a jeep, while they're all in the village, and have
a look around the fields, now."

Charley Loughran went along for specimens, and, for the ride,
Lillian Ransby. Most of his guesses, he found, had been correct.
He found a number of pole travoises, from which the animals had
been unhitched in the first panic when the landing craft had been
coming down. Some of them had big baskets permanently attached.
There were drag-marks everywhere in the soft ground, but not a
single wheel track. He found one plow, cunningly put together with
wooden pegs and rawhide lashings; the point was stone, and it
would only score a narrow groove, not a proper furrow. It was,
however, fitted with a big bronze ring to which a draft animal
could be hitched. Most of the cultivation seemed to have been done
with spades and hoes. He found a couple of each, bronze, cast flat
in an open-top mold. They hadn't learned to make composite molds.

There was an even wider variety of crops than he had expected: two
cereals, a number of different root-plants, and a lot of different
legumes, and things like tomatoes and pumpkins.

"Bet these people had a pretty good life, here--before the Terrans
came," Charley observed.

"Don't say that in front of Paul," Lillian warned. "He has enough
to worry about now, without starting him on whether we'll do these
people more harm than good."

Two more landing craft had come down from the _Hubert Penrose_;
they found Dave Questell superintending the unloading of more
prefab-huts, and two were already up that had been brought down
with the first landing.

A name for the planet had also arrived.

"Svantovit," Karl Dorver told him. "Principal god of the Baltic
Slavs, about three thousand years ago. Guy Vindinho dug it out
of the 'Encyclopedia of Mythology.' Svantovit was represented as
holding a bow in one hand and a horn in the other."

"Well, that fits. What will we call the natives; Svantovitians,
or Svantovese?"

"Well, Paul wanted to call them Svantovese, but Luis persuaded him
to call them Svants. He said everybody'd call them that, anyhow,
so we might as well make it official from the start."

"We can call the language Svantovese," Lillian decided. "After
dinner, I am going to start playing back recordings and running off
audiovisuals. I will be so happy to know that I have a name for what
I