body else ever been able to read?"

"We never found a university, with a half-million-volume library, at
Harappa or Mohenjo-Daro."

"And, the first day we entered this building, we established meanings
for several words," Selim von Ohlmhorst added.

"And you've never found another meaningful word since," Lattimer added.
"And you're only sure of general meaning, not specific meaning of
word-elements, and you have a dozen different interpretations for each
word."

"We made a start," von Ohlmhorst maintained. "We have Grotefend's word
for 'king.' But I'm going to be able to read some of those books, over
there, if it takes me the rest of my life here. It probably will,
anyhow."

"You mean you've changed your mind about going home on the _Cyrano_?"
Martha asked. "You'll stay on here?"

The old man nodded. "I can't leave this. There's too much to discover.
The old dog will have to learn a lot of new tricks, but this is where my
work will be, from now on."

Lattimer was shocked. "You're nuts!" he cried. "You mean you're going
to throw away everything you've accomplished in Hittitology and start
all over again here on Mars? Martha, if you've talked him into this
crazy decision, you're a criminal!"

"Nobody talked me into anything," von Ohlmhorst said roughly. "And as
for throwing away what I've accomplished in Hittitology, I don't know
what the devil you're talking about. Everything I know about the Hittite
Empire is published and available to anybody. Hittitology's like
Egyptology; it's stopped being research and archaeology and become
scholarship and history. And I'm not a scholar or a historian; I'm a
pick-and-shovel field archaeologist--a highly skilled and specialized
grave-robber and junk-picker--and there's more pick-and-shovel work on
this planet than I could do in a hundred lifetimes. This is something
new; I was a fool to think I could turn my back on it and go back to
scribbling footnotes about Hittite kings."

"You could have anything you wanted, in Hittitology. There are a dozen
universities that'd sooner have you than a winning football team. But
no! You have to be the top man in Martiology, too. You can't leave that
for anybody else--" Lattimer shoved his chair back and got to his feet,
leaving the table with an oath that was almost a sob of exasperation.

Maybe his feelings were too much for him. Maybe he realized, as Martha
did, what he had betrayed. She sat, avoiding the eyes of the others,
looki