feel a faint, gentle warmth radiating from the thing.
It had only one feature, a branch-like arm projecting vertically from the center, about a foot long. And the creature—whatever it was—was not immobile. It pulsated gently.
"Careful," Kenworth said. "It's a plant of some sort, I think."
"It's alive," Thona commented.
Kenworth moved forward, touched the spongy, rubbery surface of the thing. The pulsations continued undisturbed.
"Curious," he said. "But not much help. We need a guide, not a plant."
He turned away, checked himself at Thona's astonished exclamation.
"Look!" She was pointing at the plant. Kenworth stared.
The vertical branch projecting up from the white pancake was no longer vertical. Its tip was bent at a right angle.
"It's—pointing," Thona said.
"Impossible! How could a plant"
The branch moved slowly until it was again upright. Then it bent down again—jerked for all the world like a pointing finger!
"It's pointing, Dal."
He was not convinced. "No . . . but flowers turn with the sun sometimes, don't they? This may be something similar"
From the gloom came a startling sound—a sharp, sudden bark, abruptly chopped off. Kenworth whirled. It came again—a hoarse shouting. And it repeated over and over the single word:
"Dal! Dal! Dal!"
The two stared at each other. As the voice paused Thona whispered. "The Raider?"
Kenworth shook his head, frowning, puzzled. He took a step in the direction of the voice, noticing that it was there that the plant-branch was pointing. Thona kept close to him.
About fifty feet away they came out into a little plain of gray soil, ringed with garishly colored rock. The place was quite warm, Kenworth realized with amazement. In the middle of this cleared space was another of the strange white plants—but far different from the original one.
This was huge. A dozen feet in diameter, dome-shaped, with a score of long branches shooting up from the thing's center, it lay pulsating and throbbing with life. And as the two watched, the plant began to rotate like a great turntable. It turned very slowly, until on the surface facing Kenworth and Thona appeared a group of odd appurtenances—organs, apparently. A small puckered orifice reminded Kenworth of a mouth, although it remained immobile and silent. Ringed about it were six bulging white domes. The whiteness vanished momentarily from one of them, and Kenworth saw a black shining surface. Then the pale skin covered it again.
Had the plant—eyes?
"What is it, Dal?" Thona asked shakily.
"I don't know," he said. "Plants have evolved considerably on Mars, I've heard, but never to this stage. I wonder if the thing can—understand us."
The puckered orifice on the plant's surface twitched convulsively, and opened. From it came an ear-shattering bellow that made Thona cry out, clapping her hands to her outraged ears. Kenworth took a step back, his eyes widening. And still the hoarse yelling kept on, rising and falling like the hooting of a siren. Abruptly Kenworth realized that there was a definite sequence in the shouting. The thing was yelling—words!
Kenworth stopped his ears with his fingers, and suddenly the yelling faded, became articulate, understandable.
