"Bob! What did you bring me?"

The sun was just on the horizon, in Bob's eyes as he looked toward the dock, but he didn't need to see to identify the speaker. Daphne, his six-year-old sister, was plunging down the gangway at a rate which made the Hunter uneasy, even though he had no direct responsibility for the small creature's well-being.

He remarked to his host, "If she had been around when I first met you, I'd have been led badly astray in our little problem."

Bob chuckled; knowing what his symbiont meant The Hunter had been seeking a fugitive of his own species who had escaped into space. Pursued and pursuer had crashed near Ell; both had made their ways ashore and found human hosts. The Hunter had been faced with the task of locating the other without help from his fellow police, without a background situation in which everybody harbored a symbiont of his own and took for granted that everyone else did, and without any of the technical equipment which would normally have helped him to locate his quarry and separate it from its host without harm to the latter. He had succeeded because the criminal had made no effort to train his host in elementary personal care. The symbionts were able to stop bleeding from injuries, to dispose of infecting microorganisms) and within limits even to minimize pain. Human beings like the humanoid species of the Hunter's home planet, tend to limit their behavior by what they find themselves getting away with; if sixty miles an hour doesn't hurt them, they are soon doing sixty-five.

Arthur Kinnaird, Bob's father, by all accounts a normally cautious adult of his species, had become increasingly casual about situations offering personal danger. He had been getting away with everyday actions which should have given him cuts, sprains, bruises, splinters, even minor burns; he had expanded his behavior accordingly…

That had been seven and a half Earth years ago. Now Arthur's daughter was acting as though nothing on the planet could hurt her. The Hunter might have wondered whether his old quarry had survived after all, but Daphne had been the same at the age of four; the Hunter did not criticize to Bob, but he felt that either her parents or her culture or both were taking better care of her than was strictly healthy. Whether he liked it or not, it was not his problem. He had made enough mistakes of his own, with his own host, and would have to solve the problems those had created, first. If he could. -

Daphne swarmed up her brother, squirrel fashion, chattering. She was genuinely glad to see him; the question of what he had brought for her was not repeated. Bob, to the Hunter's relief, was able to support the forty pounds or so of her rather skinny form, but both symbiont and host were relieved when she dropped back to the float and took up a wild dance around him.

"Should I drop you overboard to cool you off, Silly?" her brother asked.

"Go ahead. Mother wouldn't let me swim out, but if you do I'll just swim in."

Bob made no attempt to continue the argument He captured the child, more or less immobilized her, and greeted his mother, who had descended the gangway more sedately.

"Hi, Mom. You're here pretty quickly. Were you waiting for me?"

"Just hoping. We heard the plane and biked down on the chance. I hope someone took pictures of your graduation; I wish we could have gone."

"I have 'em. You're letting this monkey use a bike already? I'm surprised she didn't ride it down the plank."

Daphne assumed an indignant expression, barely visible in the swiftly gathering darkness. "Of course not," she said. "I'm not allowed to ride the bike on the dock." "Good for you, Mom. I never thought rules would take with this one."

She's no worse than you were,” his mother pointed out. "Locking up the bike a couple of times made her see reason. As I recall, with you and that deathtrap of a boat your friends had at first-”

"All right. We were all young once." Let me play old-fashioned mother just this once. If you see my husband, tell him I'd rather he came right home without bothering about the luggage tonight."

"Sure, Mrs. Kinnaird. I'll help with this stuff any ' time they don't have me doing something else. I sup pose some of it goes to the library, anyway."

"Those two big ones," Bob pointed out

"Did you really have to read all that? Glad I made the choice I did. I'll see you around, Bob; any idea what they'll have you doing?"

"Well, I have a degree with high honors in chemical engineering from one of the most prestigious institutions east of the Hudson River, so they'll probably want to show me that there are eight experienced chemical, engineers on Ell already and that my muscles will be more useful to PFI than my brains for the next few years. We may be sweating side by side, for a while anyhow."

"I can believe it." Malmstrom waved farewell as -the family group started up the gangway, and turned back to his work.

Bob had uttered not a serious prophecy but rather his and the Hunter's major worry. It was quite likely that he would be assigned to the less pleasant and more physical aspects of his long-term job, and in his present condition he wouldn't last out the first day. Stage One of the complex plan they had been working out involved getting the help of the island doctor to forestall such an assignment. Seever was one of the few people who knew about the Hunter, and the alien and his host were counting heavily on both his sympathy and his professional knowledge in what was to come. The airplane float lay a quarter of a mile from shore along the causeway, and by the time the three walkers reached the inner end of the latter, darkness had fallen, though a gibbous moon made walking easy. With a sigh of relief, Daphne set down the suit-case she was carrying.

"I can't take this on my bike," she pointed out. "You take it on yours, Mom, and I'll walk mine home with Bob."

"You didn't bring mine?" asked her brother. "How could we? We were riding our own."

"I'm glad there are still things I can teach you. Not right now, though; I'm kind of tired, and don't feel like walking all the way home." His mother looked anxious for a moment, but neither Bob nor the Hunter caught the expression.

"You've been going a good many hours," she said. "I don't blame you. Daph, leave the bag here and go look for your father-yes, on your bike, as long as you stay with the streetlights. He's somewhere down at this end. Have him get a jeep and meet us here." The child obeyed without a word, her mother smiling after her.

"She's not usually allowed to ride alone after dark. You've probably noticed the new lights-they're just here in the village, and go along the road only as far as the school, our way. How's the Hunter, son?

Bob had no chance to answer. They were under one of the lights, at the point where the dock road met the one which ran the length of the island, and people had seen them. All of them knew Bob, and the island population-the older ones, this time-rapidly gathered to welcome him back and ask about his college life. The Hunter was completely uninterested in the conversation, quite worried about his host's chances of remaining on his feet long enough to reach his home, and annoyed at his own feeling of helplessness.

Eventually a jeep whipped down the road from the northwest and pulled to a stop beside the group. Bob's father and sister emerged, the latter ducking behind her mother without making any effort to recover the bicycle in the vehicle's back seat. Arthur Kinnaird, rather brusquely but without actual rudeness, broke up the gathering.

"Evening, Ben-Hi, Maria-Hello, everyone-Bob, hop in. We'll go out and get your stuff. Small fry, get your bike and go home with your mother. We'll be there as soon as you are. Sorry to take him away, folks, but he's been traveling long enough to need sleep. We won't even talk to him ourselves until tomorrow."