or less? This sort of reluctance was understood by some on the home world to be a form of cowardice but by many others as a moral sublimity. If offense were wrong so, too, must be defense. Were not all knives sharp? What difference did it make which way the weapons were pointed? Self-defense, then, must be a criminal act, one worthy only of criminals, one by means of which one put oneself exactly on their level. Too, was not such affront in its way a denial to the predator or aggressor of his rights? Benevolence, and love of other life forms, and recognition of the brotherhood of species, was also muchly praised. More than one Humbler saint, for example, had reputedly fed himself to wild beasts lest they go hungry.
Rodriguez pulled the scarp from the little fellow’s belt and looked at it.
“There,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner looked at the scarp. It bore the company mark.
“You made a mistake,” said Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner, slowly, uncertainly. “I must have made a mistake.”
Rodriguez stuffed the scarp back in the belt of the Pon’s robes. “Go,” said Rodriguez, indicating that it return to its brethren, over to one side.
It lost no time in doing so.
“That is the right fellow?” asked Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner.
“It seems strange that you should have overlooked so obvious a mark,” said Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner.
“You made a mistake,” said Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner. “I must have made a mistake.”
Chapter 11
Brenner watched the brush. He could hear movements within it. The hair rose on the back of his neck. He did not have the weapon. Rodriguez, a few moments ago, had taken it suddenly, seizing it up and hurrying down their backtrail. The Pons, those with the sled, and the others, and Brenner, had stopped.
“You seem apprehensive,” Brenner had said to Rodriguez, earlier in the morning.
Rodriguez had not responded.
“The forest is quiet,” Brenner had said.
“It is too quiet,” had said Rodriguez.
“I do not understand,” said Brenner.
“It should teem with life,” said Rodriguez, “but except for a handful of tiny things, some gits, some snakes, some fliers, and such, nothing.
“What is your explanation?” asked Brenner.
“It would seem that our reports on the indigenous fauna must be mistaken,” said Rodriguez.
“It would seem so,” said Brenner.
“There are other possible explanations, of course,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner regarded him.
“Our own passage, for example,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner nodded. They, and even the Pons, would be strangers here. The police, on various worlds, for example, in pursuing bandits, insurgents, and such, in jungles, often carried recordings of animal life with them, birdcalls, insect sounds, simian barkings, and such, indexed to the area and the time of day or night, which they broadcast in their search. In this fashion, their presence might not be belied to their quarry by any sudden or unexpected silencing of the local wildlife.
“It could very easily be our passage,” granted Brenner.
“We are not a large or formidable party,” said Rodriguez.
“There are several Pons with us,” said Brenner. To his annoyance, it seemed that Rodriguez was ready, characteristically, to overlook the Pons.
“The men of Company Station seldom, if ever, hunt in the forest, so it is not as if the animals would have learned to fear them.”
“True,” said Brenner.
“Even when we camp at night,” said Rodriguez, “it has seemed to be very quiet.”
“At such a time the animals would be expected to resume their normal behaviors?”
“After a few minutes, of course,” said Rodriguez. Brenner supposed that Rodriguez might know something about these matters. He had, after all, hunted on several worlds, on some of them professionally.
“Then clearly there must be very little animal life in the forest.
“That would seem so,” said Rodriguez.
“Yet,” said Brenner, “that contradicts the ecological surveys, sketchy as they are.”
“Exactly,” said Rodriguez.
“On the assumption that the reports, which seem clear and consistent, are correct, we are left with no alternative other than to assume that it is our presence which has frightened the animals.”
“Not necessarily,” said Rodriguez.
“I do not understand,” said Brenner.
“I do suspect that they are afraid,” said Rodriguez, “perhaps even very afraid.”
“It is strange that our presence could have so intimidating an effect,” said Brenner.
“It need not be our presence,” had said Rodriguez.
* * *
The movements in the brush were now closer.
Brenner wished he had some weapon, even a stick.
“You!” said Brenner, in relief, as Rodriguez broke through the brush, the brass barrel of the rifle in hand, disguised as an optical instrument.
Rodriguez was not in a good humor. He was covered with sweat. Small leaves and twigs clung here and there to his wet