The great domed chamber outside looked the same, except that it now held a crowd of Martians, thirty or more of them. When K'boomch and his two burdens, followed by Jim, came out the archway one of them separated himself from the group and stepped forward. He was rather short as Martians go.

"Jim-Marlowe," he stated, with the vocative symbol.

"Gekko!" yelled Jim, echoed by Willis.

Gekko bent over him. "My friend," he boomed softly in his own tongue. "My little, crippled friend." He raised Jim up and carried him away, the other Martians retreating to make way.

Gekko moved rapidly through a series of tunnels. Jim, looking back, could see that K'boomch and the rest of his party were close behind, so he let matters drift. Gekko turned presently into a medium-sized chamber and put Jim down. Frank was deposited by him. Frank blinked his eyes and said "Where are we?"

Jim looked around. The room held several resting frames, set in a circle. The ceiling was domed and simulated the sky. On one wall a canal flowed past, in convincing miniature. Elsewhere on the curved wall was the silhouette of a Martian city, feathery towers floating in the air. Jim knew those towers, knew of what city they were the signature; Jim knew this room.

It was the very room in which he had "grown together" with Gekko and his friends.

"Oh, my gosh, Frank-we're back in Cynia."

"Huh?" Frank sat up suddenly, glared around him-then lay back down and shut his eyes tightly.

Jim did not know whether to laugh or to cry. All that effort! All their striving to escape and to get home, Frank's gallant refusal to give up in the face of sickness and body weariness, the night in the desert cabbage-and here they were not three miles from Cynia station.

The Other World

JIM SET UP housekeeping-or hospital-keeping-in the smallest room that Gekko could find for him. There had been a "growing together" immediately after their arrival. On its conclusion Jim had found, as before, that his command of the dominant tongue was improved. He had made Gekko understand that Frank was sick and needed quiet.

Gekko offered to take over Frank's care, but Jim refused. Martian therapy might cure Frank-or it might kill him. He asked instead for a plentiful supply of drinking water-his right, now that he was a "water friend," almost a tribal brother-and he asked for the colorful Martian silks that had been used by the boys in place of resting frames. From these silks Jim made a soft bed for Frank and a nest nearby for himself and Willis. He bedded Frank down, roused him enough to get him to drink deeply of water, and then waited for his friend to get well.

The room was quite comfortably warm; Jim took off his outdoors suit, stretched, and scratched. On second thought he peeled off Frank's elastic suit as well and covered him with a layer of flame-colored cloth. After that he dug into Frank's travel bag and looked over the food supply. Up to now he had been too busy and too tired to worry about his stomach; now the very sight of the labels made him drool. He picked out a can of synthetic orange juice, vitamin fortified, and a can of simulated chicken filet. The latter had started life in a yeast tank at North Colony, but Jim was used to yeast proteins and the flavor was every bit as tempting as white breast of chicken. Whistling, he got out his knife and got busy.

Willis had wandered off somewhere but he did not miss him. Subconsciously he was not disposed to worry about Willis while they were both in a native city; the place was filled with an atmosphere of peace and security. In fact Jim hardly thought about his patient until he had finished and wiped his mouth.

Frank was still sleeping but his breathing was noisy and his face still flushed. The air in the room, though warm and of satisfactory pressure, was Mars dry. Frank got a handkerchief from his bag, wet it, and put it over Frank's face. From time to time he moistened it again. Later he got another handkerchief, doused it, and tied it around his own face.

Gekko came in with Willis tagging along. "Jim-Marlowe," he stated and settled himself. "Gekko," Jim answered and went on with moistening Frank's face cloth. The Martian remained so quiet for so long that Jim decided that he must have retreated into his "other world" but, when Jim looked at him, Gekko's eyes showed lively, alert interest.

After a long wait he asked Jim what he was doing and why.

Jim tried to explain that his kind must breathe water as well as air but his Martian vocabulary, despite the "growing together," was not up to the strain it placed on it. He gave up and there was another long silence. Eventually the Martian left, Willis with him.

Presently Jim noticed that the face cloths, both his and Frank's, were not drying out rapidly. Shortly they were hardly drying at all. He took off his, as it made him uncomfortable, and decided that it must be uncomfortable for Frank as well; he stopped using them entirely.

Gekko returned. After only ten minutes of silence he spoke, showing thereby almost frantic haste for his kind. He wanted to know if the water that flies with the air was now sufficient? Jim assured him that it was and thanked him. After twenty minutes or so of silence Gekko again left. Jim decided to go to bed. It had been a long, hard day and the previous night could hardly be called a night of rest. He looked around for some way to switch off the light but could find none. Giving up, he lay down, pulled a polychrome sheet up to his chin, and went to sleep.

Sometime during his sleep Willis returned. Jim became aware of it when the little fellow snuggled up against his back. Sleepily, Jim reached behind and petted him, then went back to sleep.

"Hey, Jim-wake up."

Blearily Jim opened his eyes, and closed them. "Go away."

"Come on. Snap out of it. I've been awake me past two hours, while you snored. I want to know some things."

"What do you want to know? Say-how do you feel?"

"Me?" said Frank. "I feel fine. Why shouldn't I? Where are we?"

Jim looked him over. Frank's color was certainly better and his voice sounded normal, the hoarseness all gone. "You were plenty sick yesterday," he informed him. "I think you were out of your head."

Frank wrinkled his forehead. "Maybe I was. I've sure had the damedest dreams. There was a crazy one about a desert cabbage-"

"That was no dream."

"What?"

"I said that was no dream, the desert cabbage-nor any of the rest of it. Do you know where we are?"

"That's what I was asking you."

"We're in Cynia, that's where we are. We-"

"Cynia?"

Jim tried to give Frank a coherent account of the preceding two days. He was somewhat hampered by the item of their sudden translation from far up the canal back to Cynia, because he did not understand it clearly himself. "I figure it's a sort of a subway paralleling the canal. You know-a subway, like you read about."

"Martians don't do that sort of engineering."

"Martians built the canals."

"Yes, but that was a long, long time ago."

"Maybe they built the subway a long time ago. What do you know about it?"

"Well-nothing, I guess. Never mind. I'm hungry. Anything left to eat?"

"Sure." Jim got up. In so doing he woke Willis, who extended his eyes, sized up the situation, and greeted them. Jim picked him up, scratched him, and said, "What time did you come in, you tramp?" then suddenly added, "Hey!"

"'Hey' what?" asked Frank.

"Well, would you look at thatT' Jim pointed at the tumbled silks.

Frank got up and joined him. "Look at what? Oh-"

In the hollow in which Willis had been resting were a dozen small, white spheroids, looking like so many golf balls.