plaintive, melancholy, ominous.

They sat long at the table after dinner, drinking green tea.

Julian seemed in a pensive mood and had little to say. At last, he heaved a sigh and seemed to rouse himself.

"At times I am truly frustrated. Here we sit, four persons subscribing to a common morality, and still at odds over rather fundamental problems."

Milo agreed.

"It's an extraordinary situation. In some of our minds, the gears are not meshing."

Julian flourished his hand around the sky, encompassing thousands of light-years and stars beyond number.

"I can suggest a solution to our problems. Our common morality will be served and any reasonable person will make the necessary adjustments without rancor."

"That sounds like the plan we have been waiting for!"

exclaimed Milo.

"I endorse morality. I think Wayness is also moral; at least there's been no scandal. Glawen is a Clattuc but not necessarily immoral. In any event, speak! And we will listen."

"My plan, in its broadest terms, is simple.

"Beyond' is out yonder, behind Circe's Couch. Thousands of worlds await discovery, some as beautiful as Cadwal. I propose that a revived and dynamic Naturalist Society send out locators, to discover one of these worlds and there establish a new Conservancy, while Cadwal yields to the inevitable realities!"

"Is that the plan?" asked Milo.

"It is indeed."

Glawen spoke in puzzlement.

"Where does morality fit into your scheme? It might be that the divergence you mentioned is here. We are not agreed on the meaning of the word 'morality."" Milo said soberly: "For convenience we can define it as 'cosmos,

space, time and the Conservancy arranged to the tastes of Julian ;

Bohost."" "Come, Milo, be serious!" said Julian.

"Must you forever act the clown? Morality has nothing to do with me. Morality regulates the needs and by democratic processes guarantees the rights of all the folk, not just the caprices of a privileged few."

"Superficially that sounds good," said Glawen.

"But it would seem something like a special case. It does not address the situation here on Cadwal, where a colony of illegal vagabonds, who should not be here in the first place, far outnumbers the hardworking folk of Araminta Station. If you gave them the vote, they'd blow us away."

Julian laughed.

"I will generalize, to clarify my point. In the largest morality, the first axiom ordains equality, which means equal perquisites, equal treatment before the law and an equal share' of decision- making power for each member of every civilized race: in short, a truly universal democracy. And that is a truly universal morality."

Once again Milo protested: "Please, Julian! Can't you get your head out of the clouds? This isn't morality; it's Peefer egalitarianism in its most hypertrophied form. What is the point of expounding these windy platitudes when you know them to be, at the very least, unpractical?"

"Is democracy impractical? Is this what you are saying?"

Glawen said: "As I recall. Baron Bodissey had something to say on the subject."

"Oh? Was he pro or con?"

"Neither. He pointed out that democracy could function only in a relatively homogeneous society of equivalent individuals. He described a district dedicated to democracy where the citizenry consisted of two hundred wolves and nine hundred squirrels. When zoning ordinances and public health laws were put into effect, the wolves were obliged to live in trees and eat nuts."

"Bah," said Julian.

"Baron Bodissey was a man from the Eocene."

"And I am off to bed," said Milo.

"Today has been long and eventful, with two major achievements. We have designed Julian's overpass and defined for once and all the term 'morality." Tomorrow may well be as productive. Goodnight, all!"

Milo departed. For a period the three sat in silence, Glawen hoping that Julian would also go off to bed. Julian showed no disposition to do so, and Glawen suddenly realized that, in fact, Julian was determined to out wait him. Glawen instantly rose to his feet; Clattuc vanity debarred him from so ignoble a competition. He bade Wayness and Julian goodnight and went off to his room.

Wayness stirred in her chair.

"I think I'm for bed, as well."

Julian spoke softly: "The night is young! Sit out with me for a while! I'm anxious to talk to you."

Wayness reluctantly settled back in her chair.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I can't believe you meant what you said before dinner tonight. Tell me I'm right."

Wayness rose to her feet.

"I'm afraid that you're wrong. Our lives go in different directions and now I'm going to bed.

And please don't sit out here brooding all the night."

For a time Wayness lay awake, her mind too active for relaxation, listening to the sounds which drifted across the night and through her window. Finally she fell asleep.

In the morning the four arrayed themselves in riding habits provided by the lodge; then, after breakfast, went out to the stables. Glawen brought along a case containing the guns which all would carry in their saddle holsters, as a safety precaution.

In front of the stables four hunters awaited them, with blinders in place over the optic stalks. The hunters were prepared for riding, each with a saddle clamped into the notch in its dorsal ridge. Each saddle was painted a different color: blue, gray, orange and green, by which the bunters could be identified one from the other.

Wayness looked over the bunters with a dubious droop to her mouth. She had expected sullen, graceless and ill-smelling animals, but these four hulks eclipsed her most vivid imaginings.

Wayness tried to reassure '.-.erself.

"It is sheer projection, of how I would feel if I were asked to carry tourists on my back."

Wayness renewed her study of the bunters. Their sheer bulk was daunting in itself. Each stood six feet high, on six splayed legs, to the serrated upper edge of its dorsal ridge, and measured from eleven to twelve feet in length, exclusive of its tail: a linkage of bony nodules seven feet long. The dorsal ridge at the front terminated in a head of naked bony segments from which depended a flexible proboscis, of an unpleasant pale blue color. Optic stalks lifted from tufts of black fur;