"Interesting," said Gonzales. "The evidence that whatever causes the phenomenon has happened again and again. I'm afraid that the war theory—" "Oh, my God!" gasped Burton. We stared at him. "The ship," he whispered. "It's right in line with the holes! If whatever made them is still in operation...." "Run!" yelled Allenby, and we ran like fiends. We got the ship into the air, out of line with the holes to what we fervently hoped was[Pg 118] safety, and then we realized we were admitting our fear that the mysterious hole-maker might still be lurking around. [Pg 118] Well, the evidence was all for it, as Gonzales had reminded us—that cactus had been oozing. We cruised at twenty thousand feet and thought it over. Janus, whose only training was in photography, said, "Some kind of omnivorous animal? Or bird? Eats rocks and everything?" "I will not totally discount the notion of such an animal," Randolph said. "But I will resist to the death the suggestion that it forages with geometric precision." After a while, Allenby said, "Land, Burton. By that 'canal.' Lots of plant life—fauna, too. We'll do a little collecting." Burton set us down feather-light at the very edge of the sprawling flat expanse of vegetation, commenting that the scene reminded him of his native Texas pear-flats. We wandered in the chilly air, each of us except Burton pursuing his specialty. Randolph relentlessly stalked another of the rabbity creatures. Gonzales was carefully digging up plants and stowing them in jars. Janus was busy with his cameras, recording every aspect of Mars transferable to film. Allenby walked around, helping anybody who needed it. An astronomer, he'd done half his work on the way to Mars and would do the other half on the return trip. Burton lounged in the Sun, his back against a ship's fin, and played chess with Allenby, who was calling out his moves in a bull roar. I grubbed for rocks. My search took me farther and farther away from the others—all I could find around the 'canal' was gravel, and I wanted to chip at some big