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There was a slight pause while his listeners sorted out the involved sentence. “You mean that it runs away?” asked a voice.

“Yes.”

They all looked a little disap­pointed, a trifle con­temp­tuous of the unfor­tunate Struthio­mimus. They wanted stronger meat. They longed to see – (behind bars) – those ancient monsters which had been lords of the world, whose rumbling bellows had sent Struthio­mimus and the rest scuttling for cover. The guide conti­nued in his own good time.

“The next is a fine specimen of Hesper­ornis, the toothed bird. This creature, filling a place between the Archeop­teryx and the modern bird, is parti­cularly interes­ting.”

But the class did not agree. As they filed slowly on past cage after cage it was notice­able that their own opi­nions and that of the guide seldom coin­cided. The more majestic and terri­fying reptiles he dis­missed with a curt, “These are of little inte­rest, being sterile branches of the main stem of evolution – Nature's failures.”

They came at length to a small cage, occupied by a solitary curious crea­ture which stood erect upon two legs though it appeared to be designed to use four.

“This,” said the guide, “is one of our most puzzling finds. We have not yet been able to classify it into any known cate­gory. There has been such a rush that the special­ists have not as yet had time to accord it the atten­tion it deserves. Obviously, it comes from an advanced date, for it bears some fur, though this is loca­lized in patches, notably on the head and face.”

“It is particularly adept upon two feet, which points to a long line of develop­ment. And yet, for all we know of it, the creature might have occurred fully devel­oped and without any evo­lu­tion – though of course you will realize that such a thing could not possibly happen.”

“Among the other odd facts which our pre­limi­nary obser­vation has revealed is that, although its teeth are indis­pu­tably those of a herbi­vore, it has carni­vo­rous tastes – alto­gether a most puzzling creature. We hope to find others before the exa­mina­tion of the Valley is ended.”

The creature raised its head and looked at them from sullen eyes. Its mouth opened but instead of the expected bellow there came from it a stream of clatter­ing gibberish which it accom­panied with curious motions of its fore-limbs.

The interest of some of the class was at last aroused. Here was a real mys­tery about which the experts could as yet claim to know little more than them­selves. The young Sadul, for in­stance, was far more intrigued by it than he had been by those monsters with the poly-syllabic names. He drew closer to the bars, observing it intently.

The creature's eyes met his own and held them. More queer jabber issued from its mouth. It advanced to the front of the cage, coming quite near to him. Sadul held his ground – it did not look dangerous. With one foot it smoothed the soil of the floor, then squatted down to scrabble in the dirt.

“What's it doing?” asked some­one.

“Probably scratching for something to eat,” suggested another.

Sadul conti­nued to watch with interest. When the guide moved the party on he contrived to remain behind unnoticed. He was untroubled by the presence of other spec­tators, since most of them had gravi­tated to watch the larger reptiles feed.

After a while the crea­ture rose to its feet again and extended one paw towards the ground. It had scrawled a series of queer lines in the dust. They made neither pattern nor picture. They did not seem to mean any­thing. Yet there was some­thing regular about them.

Sadul looked blankly at them and then back to the fact of the creature. It made a quick move­ment towards the scrawls. Sadul conti­nued to stare blankly. It ad­vanced, smoothed out the ground once more with its foot and began to scrabble again. Sadul wondered whether or not he should move on. He ought, he knew, to have kept to­gether with the rest. Magon might be nasty about it. Well, he'd stay just long enough to see what the creature was doing this time.

It stood back and pointed again. Sadal was amazed. In the dirt was a drawing of a Takonian such as him­self. The crea­ture was point­ing first to him­self and then back to the drawing.

Sadul grew excited. He had made a discovery? What was this creature which could draw? He had never heard of such a thing. His first impulse was to run after the fest and tell them. But he hesi­tated and curiosity got the better of him.

Rather doubtfully, he opened the bag at his side and drew out his writing tablet and stylus. The creature ex­citedly thrust both paws through the bars for them and sat down, scratch­ing experi­ment­ally with the wrong end of the stylus. Sadul corrected it, then leaned close to the bars, watching over its shoulder.

First the creature made a round mark in the middle of the tablet, then it pointed up. Sadul looked up at the ceiling, but quite failed to see any­thing remark­able there. The creature shook its head impa­tiently. About the mark it drew a circle with a small spot on the circum­ference – outside that another circle with a similar spot, then a third. Still Sadul could see no meaning.

Beside the spot on the second circle the creature drew a small sketch of a Takonian. Beside the spot on the third, a creature, itself. Sadul followed intently. It was trying very hard to convey some­thing but for the life of him he could not see what it was. Again a paw pointed up at the light globe, then the fore­limbs were held wide apart.

The light – an enor­mous light!

Suddenly Sadul got it – the sun – the sun and the planets! He nearly choked with excite­ment. Reaching between the bars, he grabbed his tablet and ran off up the corri­dor in search of his party. The man in the cage watched him go and as Sadul's shouts dimin­ished in the distance he smiled his first smile for a very long time.

Goin, the lecturer in phonetics, wandered into the study of his friend Dagul, the anthro­polo­gist in the Uni­versity of Takon. Dagul, who was getting on in years as the grizzling of his silver fur testi­fied, looked up with a frown of irrita­tion at the inter­rup­tion. It faded at the sight of Goin.

“Sorry,” he apolo­gized. “I think I'm a bit over­worked. This Dur busi­ness gives such masses of material that I can't leave it alone.”

“If you're too busy—?”

“No, no. Come along in. Glad to throw it off for a time.'

They crossed to a low divan where they squatted, folding their four legs beneath them.

Dagul offered refresh­ment.

“Well, did you get this Earth creature's story?” he asked.

Goin produced a packet of thin tablets from a satchel.

“Yes, we got it – in the end. I've had all my assis­tants and bright­est students working on it but it's not been easy even so. They seem to have been further advanced in physical science than we are. That made parts of it only roughly trans­latable but I think you'll be able to follow it. A pretty sort of villain this Gratz makes himself out to be – and he's not much ashamed of it.”

“You can't be a good villain if you are ashamed.”

“I suppose not but it's made me think. Earth seems to have been a rotten planet.”

“Worse than Venus?” asked Dagul bitterly.

Goin hesitated. “Yes, I think so, according to his account – but probably that's only because it was further developed. We're going the same way – graft, vested interests, private tra­ders without morals, politi­cians without conscience. I thought they only existed here, but they had them on Earth – the whole stink­ing circus. Maybe they had them on Mars too if we only knew.”

“I wonder?” Dagul sat for some moments in contem­plation. “You mean that Earth was just an exagge­rated form of the mess we're in?”