Jak Carver's eyes searched the edge of the jungle feverishly for any idea—for some means of rescuing his younger brother, embedded in the quicksand of the stream there.

Suddenly he spied a slim but stout-looking tree close to the water's edge ... and a trick the two boys had often played with a small tree in their back yard at home sprang into his mind.

"Got an idea, Jon. Slack off a minute."

For Jon had been trying again and again, as he felt a momentary return of part of his strength, to pull himself free. He had, by this means, barely managed to keep from sinking further, but that was all.

Now, with a quick twist, Jak unfastened the end of the liana from the tree to which he had tied it. "Tie your end about you, just under the arms," he called. Then, placing his end of the vine in his mouth and gripping it firmly with his teeth, he started climbing that slim tree. It was about seven inches in diameter at the base, and some forty to forty-five feet tall.

His brother instantly recognized what he had in mind. So, as Jak climbed, Jon made sure his end was securely fastened about him. Then he grasped the vine firmly with both hands, a few inches in front of his chest.

As Jak climbed ever higher into the tree, the slender sapling bent beneath his weight. He still climbed, but carefully now, on the side nearest the water, so the treetop would bend in that direction. The higher he climbed the tree, the more his weight made it curve downward, so that toward the last, his back was almost parallel to the ground.

Holding with his legs wrapped about the trunk, when he was almost three-quarters of the way up, Jak fastened his end of the liana tautly in place. This was extremely difficult because of his unnatural position, as well as the stiffness of the vine and his having to work with one hand. But without wasting time, he took pains to make sure the knot was tight and secure.

Then he started climbing again, further and further toward the slender top of the now bent tree. But carefully, lest his weight and the bending splinter or snap the treetop as it bent still further.

"Get tight, Jon. Be ready for the yank when I let go."

"All set and line tight. Yell when you drop."

Glancing down to see that the way was clear below him, Jak let his legs go and swung by his arms until he was hanging clear. He yelled sharply and let go—plunging down the fifteen or eighteen feet to the ground.

Disregarding the shock, he scrambled up, and peered closely at the tree, then the vine, then at Jon. The tree was straining to pull back into its accustomed erectness. The liana was taut—but bits of its bark were flecking off. It creaked so alarmingly Jak was afraid it would break.

All the time Jon was wriggling and twisting to help free his feet and legs. And the vine held, as the tree proved its natural strength and desire for an upright position. Slowly but surely Jon's body was pulled from its prison. As he came more nearly free the tree snapped upright so swiftly he was whipped out of the water and a dozen feet onto the sand. He landed, face down, with a terrific jar.

Jak ran up and helped untie the vine. Jon sat up slowly with his brother's help. His face was scuffed where it had slid along the sandy beach, and he slowly, painfully wiped it somewhat clean with his handkerchief. His breath came in gasps from the terrible constriction of the vine about his chest, and from his unusual exertions.

Sympathetically, Jak hovered about until finally Jon's breathing was a bit easier. When his brother started to try to get up, he helped and held him.

"Guess I can make it now." Jon finally broke away and did manage to stand alone, although he still reeled a bit from the fatigue and the terrible ordeal through which he had been.

He walked slowly about, rolling his shoulders and moving his arms and fingers, exercising his cramped muscles. Jak gave him a couple of anti-fatigue pills from his pocket first-aid kit, and Jon swallowed these. Finally, he began collecting his rod and creel.

"They'd danged well better be good to eat," he declared, shaking the offending fish basket.

"It certainly wasn't worth all that narrow escape," Jak said soberly as he took the things from his brother and went over to pick up the little animal carcasses. But when he got there he exclaimed in disgust, "Darn, those ants have eaten them almost all up!"

"We mustn't let Mom know how close I came to not getting back," Jon said as he staggered along the little trail, although as he went his strength and limberness returned somewhat.

"I'll say not. I'll keep my trap shut. One thing's sure, though. There'll be no more fishing trips here."

"Aw, I wouldn't say that," Jon snapped back. "I know enough now to stay on the bank. And if these are good eating, it's too easy a way to get fresh food to waste."

They were just climbing into the lock when again that sudden heavy downpour of rain began.

Jon grinned as he opened the inner door. "Glad to see the rain this time. It'll keep Mom from wondering why my clothes are so wet."

As soon as they had changed to dry clothing, Jon went to clean his "fish," then took them to his mother in the galley. Jak, meanwhile, was in the control room, rearranging and trying to begin the classification of his plant specimens.

When their mother called them to table, the boys sniffed appreciatively at the delicious odor of the nicely browned fish-things.

"They cook nicely, but how do we tell if they're good to eat?" Mrs. Carver asked.

Jak flipped one onto his plate and cut off a tiny portion. "Tell you soon." And he forked the piece into his mouth. With his tongue and teeth he tested it, but did not swallow. "Tastes good," he said a moment later, retrieving the piece with his fork and laying it on the side of his plate. "One more test."

He cut off another small piece and took it into the storeroom, where he placed a piece in one of the cages containing half a dozen white rats. A couple of them came up immediately, smelled the food, then one of them gobbled it up. Jak watched anxiously for a moment, then gave another rat a piece. It, too, gobbled it up, and then joined the rest who were pressed against the wires begging for more. Jak stood watching for one minute, then two, then three. Satisfied that the meat had done the rodents no harm, he returned to the table.

"It's all right," he said and began eating. "The rats liked it and it didn't seem to hurt them."

The others pitched in then, and soon the entire platterful was reduced to a pile of bones on the three plates.

"How's Father been today," Jak asked. "He was asleep when I glanced at him after getting back."

"He moved about several times, tossing and groaning a bit, and seeming to be trying to touch his broken leg, although...."

"Probably it itches inside the cast," Jak said.

"He didn't regain full consciousness, but I tried spooning some concentrated broth into his mouth, and he was able to swallow a little of it."

"Golly, that's great!" Jak exclaimed in relief. "His drifting out of his coma from time to time shows there is no real damage to his brain, and now he's evidently beginning to come out of the concussion."

"Whatever it is, I feel more sure he'll soon regain consciousness and be all right." Mrs. Carver spoke with quiet confidence.

"Of course he will, Mom. Pop's too tough for a busted leg and a bump on the head to kill him." Jon smiled at her comfortingly.

"As the surface wound heals, the brain tissues beneath will also be healing," Jak said pedantically. "As long as we can keep him fed and otherwise healthy, the concussion will grow less and finally dissipate entirely."

"Doctor Carver, I presume." Jon sniggered, and his brother flushed a bit, then poked him in the ribs.

Jon tried not to wince at that light jab. Luckily their mother had not noticed anything so, as quickly as possible, he said, "Well, Owl, let's hit the sack. Want to move around this planet tomorrow and get our pics and info, then take a look at the others."

Jak started to protest, but caught his brother's almost imperceptible but frantic signal, and changed his words. "Maybe Jon's right at that, and we should get an early start. 'Night, Mother."

"Good night, Boys." She responded to their kisses, and soon the two were in their bunkroom, with the door closed.

Jak turned swiftly on his brother. "What's the big idea, making us go to bed so early, and why that funny look you gave me?"

"I had to get out of there." Jon winced as he began taking off his shirt, and Jak crammed his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out as he saw the great, angry red welts and the terrible black-and-blue splotches on Jon's torso.

"Great guns! What happened?"

"That vine must have really hurt when it pulled me loose from that quicksand. I didn't notice it particularly, though, until you poked me in the ribs."

Jak quickly dragged his large first-aid kit from its place in the wall cupboard, and opened it. "Lie down on the bunk, and I'll fix you up," he said as he took out tubes of unguents, bottles of antiseptic and rolls of bandages and plasters from the kit. "Golly, kid, I had no idea you were in that shape, or I'd have done this before."

Jon gritted his teeth as the other gently felt to see if any ribs were broken, and later as Jak applied the healing lotions and sometimes smarting antiseptics. But he could not entirely restrain his exclamations of pain, although he muffled them with his pillow lest their mother hear and come to investigate. He knew his brother was being sympathetically gentle, and when at last it was done, Jon did feel easier. The burning had largely stopped, and some of the ache was gone.

"I'd better give you some barbit so you'll sleep sounder." Jak shook two small pills from a bottle. "The calmer you sleep, the less you'll mess up those dressings, and the quicker you'll heal."

He got a glass of water and Jon took the pills and washed them down. "You do have your uses now and then," he growled, but the grateful look in his eyes belied the ungraciousness of his words—and Jak was well content.

---

In the morning much of the soreness and discoloration was gone, and there was no sign of inflammation or pus. After Jak had again tended to the abrasions and friction sores, the two boys dressed and went in to breakfast.

Their mother was in good spirits. "Mr. C.'s breathing seems much easier than it was," she announced with delight.

They all went in to see him, and while Jak was redressing the now almost healed head wound, Jon looked on happily.

"Won't be long now." He hugged his mother joyfully.

"I hope not," she sighed. "He does seem to be getting better, though."

"We're lucky we still have him, Mother." Jak's voice was serious. "If that rock had even touched him, it would have been the end. His leg looks OK—no signs of swelling or inflammation."

Breakfast was quiet, and as soon as they finished Jon rose purposefully. "I'll take us up now, and we'll cruise around and see what we can see. Have to take lots of recordings and pictures, you know."

"Are you sure you understand all that has to be done?" His mother's voice was anxious.

"Sure, Mom. It tells all about it on the papers the Colonial Board furnished. All we have to do is follow their instructions. You coming, Jak?"

"Right with you." His brother hastily drank the rest of his coffee and rose, wiping his mouth. "Be sure you strap down at the signal, Mother, if you aren't coming with us."

She flashed him a smile. "I will. Meanwhile, I'll clear the table—if I have time?" She looked questioningly at Jon.

"Sure, it'll take ten—fifteen minutes to get ready, and I'll give you a couple of one-minute warnings."

When all was ready, Jak strapped himself down in the co-pilot's seat, the book of instructions in his hand. Jon touched the stud of the buzzer, waited a full minute then punched two buzzes. Then he nodded at his brother.

"Close fuel dump valves," Jak said, referring to the manual.

"Valves closed."

"Switch on fuel pumps."

"Pumps on."

"Switch on generators."

"Gens on."

"Open all oil valves."

"Oil open."

"Check heaters."

"Heaters on."

"Check refrigerators."

"Frigs on."

"Fire tube one and balance."

Jon snapped a switch. A dull rumbling began and the ship seemed to strain as the first tube started functioning, although at minimum strength. He carefully watched a dial to see that it was working smoothly.

Finally, "Tube one firing."

In like manner tubes four, two and then three were started and tested, and finally reported firing evenly. The ship seemed more than ever straining, as though anxious to get into the air and into free space—but remained on the ground.

"Up landing props."

Jon touched another stud, and they could feel the motor lifting the landing props into their slots in the hull.

"Take off."

The roar deepened as Jon increased the amounts of fuel being fed into the tubes. The ship lifted effortlessly, easily, into the air.

"Check acceleration pressure."

"Normal to speed."

"Check altimeter."

"One thousand seven hundred."

"Level off."

A moment of maneuvering, then Jon reported, "Ship level at twenty-four hundred, traveling parallel to ground surface."

"Check rocket balance."

"All tubes on balance."

"Switch on auto-pilot."

"Auto on, but keeping ready to switch back to manual if necessary."

Jak loosened his straps and went to look out of the port, but Jon kept his gaze fastened on the lookout plate before him, his hands resting lightly on the controls, although they were not connected now.

Beneath them the land was sliding by, as the ship cruised at the slow speed, for it, of just under a thousand miles an hour. The boys saw the same sort of jungle forests, the same occasional clearings. From time to time the glint of water revealed rivers or lakes, the latter seldom more than a mile or so in width or length.

After nearly an hour, they were flying above a huge plain, covered with some sort of grass or grain. They had been above this for some minutes when Jon uttered an exclamation and Jak came up quickly to see what his brother had spotted in the magnifier-screen.

"Look down there, Owl," the younger brother was excited. "Thousands of cattle!"

"Whew! Most like those old buffalo-herds we read the old pioneers saw on the western plains of Noramer. Hey, those things are tripeds, too, like the big one we shot, and the rabbits."

"Yes, I see. Must be the usual thing here. But those down there are smaller, like cows. Wonder if they're good to eat, or give milk?"

"Don't know, but we sure want to report this."

He took several pictures with the recording camera, then made notations in the data book. The two continued watching until the tremendous herd was out of sight behind them, and they were flying once more above a great forest. They had gone almost two thousand miles when they saw ahead and downward the beginnings of what was either an ocean or a great sea. As they drew closer, they still could not see its further shore.

"I don't remember this from before, do you?" Jon looked perplexed.

"Yes, I think this must be the one we saw part of from the north—that is, I assume it was north, as we were near the icecap. But I didn't realize it was so...."

"Hey, look down there! That proves I was right." Jon pointed triumphantly toward his visiplate. "See those high-water marks along the shore? That means this moon is big enough to cause tides, same as Luna does to Terra."

"What good, really, are tides?"

"Why," superciliously, "they're one of the most useful things God has given man. They ... they...." Jon stopped, flushed, then laughed. "Darned if I know what they're good for. Of course, if they're high enough, men can make tide-motors and produce power, but now that we've got atomics, we don't need those."

"I suppose we should record them, though." Jak was tactful enough not to laugh.

"Yes, write it down."

They were over an hour passing above this ocean, and had begun to wonder if it was greater in extent than Terra's Pacific. But finally they made out in the distance the dim blueness of the farther shore.

"That's some ocean all right. Shows there's lots of water here on Two."

"With those heavy rains there'd almost have to be. This'll be of special interest to colonists—means not only plenty of water, but if that stream was any example, there'll be lots of fish down there to start a big food industry later."

About two hundred miles past the eastern shore of the ocean, they saw the blue of mountains in the decreasing distance. Soon Jon had to rise higher and higher to clear them safely. Some of the individual peaks seemed to be nearly five miles high, and one or two of them, almost at the range of visibility, the boys estimated to be even taller.

"Probably lots of metals here," Jon commented. "I'll swing back and over them again, and let 'Annie' get to work."

"Yes, this list says to report on metallic ores. Say, doesn't it seem funny to you that there are no people on a world as capable as this of supporting life? Wonder why?"

"No telling. Pop says lots of Earthlike planets don't have any inhabitants capable of any sort of civilization. But that means more ready-made worlds for Terrans to colonize."

Jon made their ship circle above the mountains while the boys took readings with the spectro-analyzer. Then they started on again. After almost another hour, when they were over one of the few desert places they had seen, Jon suddenly leaned forward with a little intake of breath that his brother noticed.

"What's up?"

"Not sure. But listen to 'Annie' click. From the reading, I think there must be some of that metal Pop was so positive about, down there somewhere."

"The stuff for a new fuel?"

"Yes. We don't know it'd be any good as fuel, but its atomic weight seems to be so high Pop was all excited when the spectrogram of this sun showed it. He said he felt sure we'd find it on at least one of these planets."

"It'll take a lot of time to locate it exactly, won't it?"

"Not too much, with the new gadgets they have for locating metal ores." Jon tried not to sound impatient with his brother's ignorance. "We've got one that lets us cruise around in the air and spot it fairly close, then land and find the exact place quite easily."

"What sort of gadget?"

Jon shrugged. "Don't know exactly how they work, but I can use one. Something like a spectroscope that works without first having to heat the metals into gas. Plus something like those old Geiger counters they used to trace radioactives. Plus some other ideas the technies put into them. It tells about them in one of our reelbooks there. You go get ours—I think it's in Bin 14, in the storeroom. Looks like a small black suitcase with carrying straps. Meanwhile, I'll get ready to set us down."

"I'll hurry so's to be back to read the routine for you."

While his brother was gone, Jon activated the bow retarders—after snapping off the stern tubes. Then he sent the ship into a curve that would bring them back nearer the place where he wanted to land. But only part of his mind was doing that—the rest was wondering why there had to be so much fuss and detail in landing and taking-off with a ship. Why couldn't it be fixed so one man could navigate and pilot without all this bother? It ought not to be too difficult....

Jak was soon back with the recorder, and Jon showed him how to read it. Soon they located what seemed to be the center of that strange disturbance, and with Jak's help, Jon set the ship down on the sand, fairly close to where they thought that hoped-for metal or its ore might be found.

When the two boys went into the living room, they told their mother what they had landed for, and that they were going out to look for the source of this excitement.

"Is it really necessary?" she asked anxiously. "Mr. C. didn't say anything to me about any such thing. Haven't we got fuel enough to get home on?"

"Sure, Mom," Jon hastened to explain. "But Pop thought this new stuff would be a lot more powerful than the fuel we're using. Said it ought to give us far greater cruising range with lots less storage space. If we found something of the sort, it would be a great contribution to space travel."

"That's right," Jak added, "and if we do find such a thing here, miners will soon be flocking after it, and that'll mean beaucoup credits for us."

"Well," doubtfully, "I guess you know best. Your father seems to be growing better, and lets me feed him, even though he hasn't ever seemed to regain full consciousness. If you are sure this is what he'd do if awake, I suppose it is what you should do."

---

"Looks like a funny place for ore," Jon said as the two boys left the ship and started at a fast pace in the direction "Annie" had pointed out as the center of activity. "I'd have expected it to be in the mountains, not in a desert like this."

"Yes, I was wondering about that." The elder brother shook his head slowly. "But you can tell there's something here. What is it we're really looking for? Oh, I know it's metal or ore of some kind," he added hurriedly as he saw Jon start a retort. "What I mean is, is it ore or natural nuggets, and is it radioactive, or what?"

Jon grinned as he trotted along. "Don't really know much more than you. I know how to detect it, and I'll know it if we find it. But to tell ahead of time, I haven't the minnow of an idea."

They had actually gone less than a quarter of a mile when the heat of the sun, reflected from the hot, white, desert sand, became almost unbearable. Finally Jak stopped, wiping the pouring perspiration from his face and neck. "We can't take much of this. Better go back and get our suits."

"Yes, guess you're right." Jon was also working his handkerchief overtime. "The refrigs in them will keep us cooler, even if they're harder to walk in."

"And the suit-goggles will protect us better from the actinic rays of this sun," Jak said. "We're so close—only sixty-five or seventy millions, you said?—that the solar rays are lots stronger than those we get back on Terra, even in the deserts."

"Sure, those jungle trees protected us before, so we didn't notice them."

Their mother heard them as they returned and came to see what the trouble was. When they explained, as they were putting on their suits, she again warned them to be careful.

Then she added, somewhat hastily, "It's just a mother's instinct to keep warning her children to be careful. I know you boys always are—the fact that you came back rather than take chances shows this. Please don't feel badly that I keep nagging at you."

"Heck, Mom, we know you aren't nagging." Jon hugged her. "If you ever quit warning us, that's when we'd really get worried."

Their suits on and the refrigerators working, the pair began retracing their steps. Jon led the way, since he was carrying the detector. They went in a decreasing spiral to locate the center, then made a beeline for that spot.

But after almost a mile the signal seemed to grow weaker, and they stopped for a conference.

"Must have passed it," Jon said over his suit-radio as his puzzled eyes studied the meters on the finder.

"Try going back thirty or forty yards to the right, then back toward the left," Jak suggested.

Soon Jon shouted and started off in a new direction, but more slowly, and Jak ran quarteringly toward him.

Inside half a mile Jon lost the beam again, and once more they quartered to find it. In narrower and narrower circles they searched.

Suddenly Jak stumbled and fell to the ground. As he started to rise, Jon heard his excited yell coming through his earphones.

---