"This Marsh was also, I regret to say, something of a scoundrel. He was accused even of stealing or destroying the fossils of rival paleontologists, to rob them of the credit for their discoveries. I would not kill a man, even to prevent a crime of less than murder against me; but such a man, if I found him destroying knowledge, I would kill!" Marot shook a fist.
Reith started off, head bent and eyes on the ground. During the next hour, while Marot poked and swept, Reith picked up several pieces that looked interesting. Some, on presentation, were pronounced mere stones. Some turned out to be fossilized plant stems. One was a nearly complete dorsal spine, and three were teeth.
Then Reith brought back a peculiar-looking piece, which resembled petrified bone; but Reith could not imagine what part of any creature it might be.
"That is a piece of skull!" cried Marot. "Mais, c'est magnifique! See, here is part of the orbit. Where did you find it?"
"Let's see—I think ..." Reith walked uncertainly to a spot a few paces away. "I think it was about here. But to me, every patch of pebbles looks pretty much like every other."
"That is close enough. Pile some stones one upon another to mark the place, and see if you can find more fragments. That piece of skull may be from our specimen here."
Reith built his little cairn, resolving, if he ever found such a thing again, instantly to mark the spot in this manner. Then, as he began turning over stones, he found part of a jaw with teeth attached, and another piece of skull. When Marot looked up to identify this last find, Reith asked:
"Aristide, supposing these are from the same animal, what sort of critter would it have been?"
"At this stage," replied Marot, "I can give only the educated guess. It is a fishlike or salamanderlike creature, perhaps a meter in length. It had a very simple construction, as far as we can tell; no strange horns, or spines, or other ornaments. Now continue with your hunting; you appear to have the luck of the beginner."
As the long Krishnan day wore on, Marot continued his digging and Reith his search for surface finds. Reith thought he began to recognize the distinctive colors and textures that distinguished fossils from ordinary stones. At least, of the finds he brought to Marot for judgment, the percentage of fossils seemed on the increase. When he brought another specimen, Marot said:
"Look here, Fergus."
The Frenchman pointed to a depression he had dug in one side of the specimen. Here could be seen a cluster of small bones, just breaking the surface.
"If I do not let my hopes deceive me," said Marot, "this is a set of limb bones; but I cannot yet tell whether they are the bones of a genuine leg, or the base of a lobed fin, or something in between. It is well that I have a strong heart, or the suspense would kill me. It is time we went back for lunch. Hand me that aya hide from the pack, please."
Marot spread the hide across the specimen and weighted the corners with stones. "This will make it easier to locate again and will protect it against accident. Now let us go."
They were finishing lunch when Doukh called: "Master Maghou, someone comes!"
Two figures on ayas appeared, looking like mushrooms under the enormous yellow straw hats. They wore the clothes of the Chilihagho shaihan-herd. As they came nigh, Reith perceived that one was indubitably a Krishnan; the other, he suspected, was a Terran in disguise.
Marot pointed to the leading rider, saying in an undertone: "That is Warren Foltz." He raised his voice: "Allô, Warren! You ought to have come an hour sooner, and we should have given you the lunch. There is still some salad, which I made myself ..."
Foltz swung down from his saddle, took off his straw hat, and stepped close to Marot with his face grimly set. Reith moved nearer to his client in case Marot should need help.
The newcomer, Reith saw, was carefully made up to look like a Krishnan. Foltz's skin had been stained or powdered to give it the faint olive-green cast of the true Krishnan humanoid. His straight hair, black at the roots, had been dyed a bluish green. Elfin points had been affixed to his ears; and from his forehead, at the inner ends of his eyebrows, sprouted a pair of feathery antennae, like extra movable eyebrows, in imitation of the olfactory organs of natives of this world. Otherwise the newcomer was a strikingly handsome man of about Reith's age, slim, well-built, and dark-complexioned. Foltz grated:
"Aristide! Will you kindly explain how, when the Dasht gave me exclusive rights to dig here, you are horning in? We saw the smoke from your fires."
"Excuse me, Warren," said Marot pacifically. "The Dasht gave you the exclusive right to dig in the Zorian beds. We have the exclusive right to dig in the Kharobian beds. There is thus no conflict."
"What in hell are the Kharobian beds? I never heard of that horizon."
"You will, dear colleague. The time has come for a more detailed subdivision of the Krishnan geological past."
"Meaning that you just thought up this sub-period to get around my permit? Where is your permit, anyway?"
"One moment." Marot disappeared into his tent and emerged with the hand-written screed on native paper. As Foltz reached for it, Marot snatched it back. "Oh, no! You shall not lay hands on this paper. I will hold; you read."
Scowling, Foltz bent forward and read. At last he said: "And what if I go back to Jeshang and tell the Dasht he's been the victim of a barefaced swindle?"
"It would be your word against mine. If I may hazard a guess, the Dasht would decide that Terrans are too much trouble and order both of us out of his barony. Or perhaps he would turn us over to the priesthood of Bákh, to be tried for heresy and boiled to death. Would you like that?"
"Think I'm crazy?" Foltz stood chewing his lip.
"In any case," said Marot, "this ranch covers an enormous area. If we both worked for ten Krishnan years here, we could not more than scratch its surface, geologically speaking."
At last Foltz conceded: "I've got to hand it to you, Aristide. It was a damned clever move. Serves me right for mentioning 'Zorian' in my petition, thus limiting the scope of my dig. Tell you what! To show there's no hard feelings, why don't you and your friend here—excuse me, sir, I don't know your name?"
"Mon dieu!" cried Marot. "Where are my manners? Dr. Warren Foltz, Fergus Reith. Mr. Reith is my guide and guardian. I tell him I wish to go to a place, and presto! by magic he whisks me to that place."
"The tour guide?" said Foltz. "I've heard of you, Mr. Reith. So why don't the pair of you come over to my camp before sundown for a drink and a bite? We picked up a pretty good cook in Jeshang." Foltz added directions.
"It is most kind of you," said Marot. "Is it hokay with you, Fergus?"
Reith's heart had begun to pound. At Foltz's camp, he would learn whether Alicia was with Foltz, as rumor had led him to suspect. The thought roiled unbearable emotions. In a sudden panic, Reith was on the verge of refusing the invitation, to avoid a confrontation. But then, he thought, Aristide was simple-minded in some ways and needed someone to watch over him in the enemy's camp. That thought tipped the balance.
"Sure, we'll be there," he said with affected casualness.
IV - THE SITE
Reith and Marot went back to their specimen. For most of the afternoon, the paleontologist pried and picked and swept, while Reith wandered about looking for more detached fossils. He found hardly any, for the ferment of emotions aroused by the impending visit kept distracting him from the task at hand. Over and over, he found himself rehearsing the things he would say to Alicia if they met. At last Marot called: