, said, "That's too bad,
because anyone you assigned me who wasn't a Negro would be a hindrance
rather than an assistant."

The other drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. He said
suddenly, "Fred, do you think I ought to do a report to Greater
Washington suggesting they take more Negro operatives into the
agency?"

Ostrander said dryly, "You'd better if this department is going to get
much work done in Africa." He stood up. "I suppose that the sooner I
get onto the job, the better. Do you have any idea at all where
Crawford and his gang headed after they left me unconscious in that
filthy hut?"

"No, we haven't the slightest idea of where they might be, other than
that they left your car abandoned at the Yoff airport."

"Oh, great," Fredric Ostrander complained. "They've gone into hiding
in an area somewhat twice the size of the original fifty United
States."

"Good luck," his chief said.

* * * * *

Rex Donaldson, formerly of Nassau in the British Bahamas, formerly of
the College of Anthropology, Oxford, now field man for the African
Department of the British Commonwealth working at expediting native
development, was taking time out for needed and unwonted relaxation.
In fact, he stretched out on his back in the most comfortable bed, in
the most comfortable hotel, in the Niger town of Mopti. His hands
were behind his head, and his scowling eyes were on the ceiling.

He was a small, bent man, inordinately black even for the Sudan and
the loincloth costume he wore was ludicrous in the Westernized comfort
of the hotel room. He was attired for the bush and knew that it was
sheer laziness now that kept him from taking off for the Dogon country
of the Canton de Sangha where he was currently working to bring down
tribal prejudices against the coming of the schools. He had his work
cut out for him in the Dogon, the old men, the tribal elders they
called Hogons, instinctively knew that the coming of education meant
subversion of their institutions and the eventual loss of Hogon power.

His portable communicator, sitting on the bedside table, buzzed and
the little man grumbled a profanity and swung his crooked legs around
to the floor. His eyebrows went up when he realized it was a priority
call which probably meant from London.

He flicked the reception switch and a girl's face faded onto the
screen. She said, "A moment, Mr. Donaldson, Sir Winton wants you."

"Right," Rex