"But," Joe told him, almost gently, "that's not why you would kill me. You'd do it because you're sore at me for mussing up the ant hill."
"That might have been the reason first," said 'Grant. "But not now-"
"Don't try it," said Joe. "Before you ever pressed the trigger you'd be meat yourself."
Grant hesitated.
"If you think I'm bluffing," Joe taunted him, "go ahead and call me."
For a long moment the two stood face to face, the gun still pointing at the ground.
"Why can't you throw in with us?" asked Grant. "We need a man like you. You were the one that showed old Tom Webster how to build a space drive. The work you've done with ants-"
Joe was stepping forward, swiftly, and Grant heaved up the gun. He saw the fist coming at him, a hamlike, powerful fist that fairly whistled with its vicious speed.
A fist that was faster than his finger on the trigger.
Something wet and hot was rasping across Grant's face and he lifted a hand and tried to brush it off.
But it went on, licking across his face.
He opened his eyes and Nathaniel did a jig in front of them.
"You're all right," said Nathaniel. "I was so afraid-"
"Nathaniel!" croaked Grant. "What are you doing herw?"
"I ran away," Nathaniel told him. "I want to go with you."
Grant shook his head. "You can't go with me. I have far to go. I have a job to do."
He got to his hands and knees and felt along the ground. When his hand touched cold metal, he picked it up and slid it in the holster.
"I let him get away," he said, "and I can't let him go. I gave him something that belonged to all mankind and I can't let him use it."
"I can track," Nathaniel told him. "I track squirrels like everything."
"You have more important things to do than tracking,"
Grant told the dog. "You see, I found out something today. Got a glimpse of a certain trend – a trend that all mankind may follow. Not today nor to-morrow, nor even a thousand years from now. Maybe never, but it's a thing we can't overlook. Joe may be just a little farther along the path than the rest of us and we may be following faster than we think. We may all end up like Joe. And if that is what is happening, if that is where it all will end, you dogs have a job ahead of you."
Nathaniel stared up at him, worried wrinkles on his face.
"I don't understand," he pleaded. "You use words I can't make out."
"Look, Nathaniel. Men may not always be the way they are today. They may change. And, if they do, you have to carry on; you have to take the dream and keep it going. You'll have to pretend that you are men."
"Us dogs," Nathaniel pledged, "will do it."
"It won't come for thousands and thousands of years," said Grant. "You will have time to get ready. But you must know. You must pass the word along. You must not forget"
"I know," said Nathaniel. "Us dogs will tell the pups and the pups will tell their pups."
"That's the idea," said Grant.
He stooped and scratched Nathaniel's ear and the dog, tail wagging to a stop, stood and watched him climb the hill.
NOTES ON THE FOURTH TALE
Of all the tales this is the one which has occasioned the most anguish on the part of those who would seek some explanation and significance in the legend.
That it must be entirely myth and nothing else even Tige will admit. But if it is myth, what does it mean? If this tale is myth, are not all the others myth as well?
Jupiter, where the action takes place, is supposed to be one of the other worlds which may be found by crossing space. The scientific impossibility of the existence of such worlds has been noted elsewhere. And, if we are to accept Bounce's theory that the other worlds dealt with in the legend are none other than our own multiple worlds, it seems reasonable to suppose that such a world as the one described would have been located by this date. That there are certain of the cobbly worlds which are closed is common knowledge, but the reason for their closure is well known and none of them is closed because of conditions such as those described in this fourth tale.
Some scholars believe that the fourth tale is an interloper, that it has no business in the legend, that it is something which was picked up and inserted bodily. It is hard to accept this conclusion since the tale does tie in with the legend, furnishing one of the principal story pivots upon which the legend turns.
The character of Towser in this tale has been cited on many occasions as inconsistent with the essential dignity of our race.
Yet, while Towser may be distasteful to certain squeamish readers, he serves well as a foil for the human in the story.
It is Towser, not the human, who is first ready to accept the situation which develops; Towser, not the human, who is the first to understand. And Towser's mind, once it is freed from human domination, is shown to be at least the equal of the human's.
Towser, flea-bitten as he may be, is a character one need not be ashamed of.
Short as it is, this fourth tale probably is the most rewarding of the eight. It is one that recommends itself for thoughtful, careful reading.
IV. DESERTION
Four men, two by two, had gone into the howling maelstrom that was Jupiter and had not returned. They had walked into the keening gale – or rather, they had loped, bellies low against the ground, wet sides gleaming in the rain.
For they did not go in the shape of men.
Now the fifth man stood before the desk of Kent Fowler, head of Dome No. 3, Jovian Survey Commission.
Under Fowler's desk, old Towser scratched a flea, then settled down to sleep again.
Harold Allen, Fowler saw with a sudden pang, was young – too young. He had the easy confidence of youth, the face of one who never had known fear. And that was strange. For men in the domes of Jupiter did know fear – fear and humility.
It was hard for Man to reconcile his puny Self with the mighty forces of the monstrous planet.
"You understand," said Fowler, "that you need not do this. You understand that you need not go."
It was formula, of course. The other four had been told the same thing, but they had gone. This fifth one, Fowler knew, would go as well. But suddenly he felt a dull hope stir within him that Allen wouldn't go.
"When do I start?" asked Allen.
There had been a time when Fowler might have taken quiet pride in that answer, but not now. He frowned briefly.
"Within the hour," he said.
Allen stood waiting, quietly.
"Four other men have gone out and have not returned," said Fowler. "You know that, of course. We want you to return. We don't want you going off on any heroic rescue expedition. The main thing, the only thing is that you come back, that you prove man can live in a Jovian form. Go to the first survey stake, no farther, then come back. Don't take any chances. Don't investigate anything. Just come back."