"We should have hunted yesterday, but... things happened." He frowned. "Sit tight. I'll get cured meat." He ran up to the cave, found a smoked side and some salted strips. When he got back Matson had a fire going. There was nothing else to serve; no fruit had been gathered the day before. Rod was uneasily aware that their breakfasts must have been very different.
But he got over it in showing off how much they had done- potter's wheel, Sue's loom with a piece half finished, the flume with the village fountain and the showers that ran continuously, iron artifacts that Art and Doug had hammered out. "I'd like to take you up to Art's iron works but there is no telling what we might run into."
"Come now, Rod, I'm not a city boy. Nor is your sister helpless."
Rod shook his head. "I know this country; you don't. I can go up there at a trot. But the only way for you would be a slow sneak, because I can't cover you both."
Matson nodded. "You're right. It seems odd to have one of my students solicitous over my health. But you are right. We don't know this set up.
Rod showed them the stobor traps and described the annual berserk migration. "Stobor pour through those holes and fall in the pits. The other animals swarm past, as solid as city traffic for hours."
"Catastrophic adjustment," Matson remarked.
"Huh? Oh, yes, we figured that out. Cyclic catastrophic balance, just like human beings. If we had facilities, we could ship thousands of carcasses back to Earth every dry season. He considered it. "Maybe we will, now.
"Probably."
"But up to now it has been just a troublesome nuisance. These stobor especially- I'll show you one out in the field when- say!" Rod looked thoughtful. "These are stobor, aren't they? Little carnivores heavy in front, about the size of a tom cat and eight times as nasty?"
"Why ask me?"
"Well, you warned us against stobor. All the classes were warned."
"I suppose these must be stobor," Matson admitted, "but I did not know what they looked like."
"Huh?"
"Rod, every planet has its 'stobor'... all different. Sometimes more than one sort." He stopped to tap his pipe. "You remember me telling the class that every planet has unique dangers, different from every other planet in the Galaxy?"
"Yes..."
"Sure, and it meant nothing, a mere intellectual concept. But you have to be afraid of the thing behind the concept, if you are to stay alive. So we personify it... but we don't tell you what it is. We do it differently each year. It is to warn you that the unknown and deadly can lurk anywhere... and to plant it deep in your guts instead of in your head."
"Well, I'll be a- Then there weren't any stobor! There never were!"
"Sure there were. You built these traps for them, didn't you?"
When they returned, Matson sat on the ground and said, "We can't stay long, you know.
"I realize that. Wait a moment." Rod went into his hut, dug out Lady Macbeth, rejoined them. "Here's your knife, Sis. It saved my skin more than once. Thanks."
She took the knife and caressed it, then cradled it and looked past Rod's head. It flashed by him, went tuckspong! in a corner post. She recovered it, came back and handed it to Rod. "Keep it, dear, wear it always in safety and health."
"Gee, Sis, I shouldn't. I've had it too long now."
"Please. I'd like to know that Lady Macbeth is watching over you, wherever you are. And I don't need a knife much now."
"Huh? Why not?"
"Because I married her," Matson answered.
Rod was caught speechless. His sister looked at him and said, "What's the matter, Buddy? Don't you approve?"
"Huh? Oh, sure! It's..." He dug into his memory, fell back on quoted rituaclass="underline" "'May the Principle make you one. May your union be fruitful.'"
"Then come here and kiss me."
Rod did so, remembered to shake hands with the Deacon. It was all right, he guessed, but- well, how old were they? Sis must be thirtyish and the Deacon... why the Deacon was old- probably past forty. It did not seem quite decent.
But he did his best to make them feel that he approved. After he thought it over he decided that if two people, with their lives behind them, wanted company in their old age, why, it was probably a good thing.
"So you see," Matson went on, "I had a double reason to look you up. In the first place, though I am no longer teaching, it is vexing to mislay an entire class. In the second place, when one of them is your brother-in-law it is downright embarrassing."
"You've quit teaching?"
"Yes. The Board and I don't see eye to eye on policy. Secondly, I'm leading a party out... and this time your sister and I are going to settle down and prove a farm." Matson looked at him. "Wouldn't be interested, would you? I need a salted lieutenant."
"Huh? Thanks, but as I told you, this is my place. Uh, where are you going?"
"Territa, out toward the Hyades. Nice place- they are charging a stiff premium."
Rod shrugged. "Then I couldn't afford it."
"As my lieutenant, you'd be exempt. But I wasn't twisting your arm; I just thought you ought to have a chance to turn it down. I have to get along with your sister, you know."
Rod glanced at Helen. "Sorry, Sis."
"It's all right, Buddy. We're not trying to live your life."
"Mmm... no. Matson puffed hard; then went on. "However, as your putative brother and former teacher I feel obligated to mention a couple of things. I'm not trying to sell you anything, but I'll appreciate it if you'll listen. Okay?"
"Well... go ahead."
"This is a good spot. but you might go back to school, you know. Acquire recognized professional status. If you refuse recall, here you stay... forever. You won't see the rest of the Outlands. They won't give you free passage back later. But a professional gets around, he sees the world. Your sister and I have been on some fifty planets. School does not look attractive now- you're a man and it will be hard to wear boy's shoes. But-" Matson swept an arm, encompassed all of Cowpertown, "-this counts. You can skip courses, get field credit. I have some drag with the Chancellor of Central Tech. Hmmm?"
Rod sat with stony face, then shook his head. "Okay," said Matson briskly. "No harm done."
"Wait. Let me tell you." Rod tried to think how to explain how he felt... "Nothing, I guess," he said gruffly.
Matson smoked in silence. "You were leader here," he said at last.
"Mayor," Rod corrected. "Mayor of Cowpertown. I was the Mayor, I mean."
"You are the Mayor. Population one, but you are still boss. And even those bureaucrats in the control service wouldn't dispute that you've proved the land. Technically you are an autonomous colony- I hear you told Sansom that." Matson grinned. "You're alone, however. You can't live alone, Rod... not and stay human."
"Well, yes- but aren't they going to settle this planet?"
"Sure. Probably fifty thousand this year, four times that many in two years. But, Rod, you would be part of the mob. Theyll bring their own leaders."
"I don't have to be boss! I just- well, I don't want to give up Cowpertown."
"Rod, Cowpertown is safe in history, along with Plymouth Rock, Botany Bay, and Dakin's Colony. The citizens of Tangaroa will undoubtedly preserve it as a historical shrine. Whether you stay is another matter. Nor am I trying to persuade you. I was simply pointing out alternatives." He stood up. "About time we started, Helen."
"Yes, dear." She accepted his hand and stood up.
"Wait a minute!" insisted Rod. "Deacon... Sis! I know I sound like a fool. I know this is gone... the town, and the kids, and everything. But I can't go back." He added, "It's not that I don't want to."