Rene had the heat turned low, for sleeping, and the lights off, as soon as we had eaten and fed the converter. I hydrated a package of crackers so that they were full-sized but not soggy, broke them into pieces and tossed them out.

I admit I felt a little embarrassed.

I sat there in the chill quiet, on this ugly, alien world, reading "The Dodo" by the light of a miniature flash, so as not to disturb Rene.

Pretty soon I began to feel creepy. "The Dodo" is a ghastly poem. There's an insidious morbidity about it. It had sounded merely funny the first time I read it.

Now, the more I read it, the more I began to hear strange, impossible creakings and sighs, which might or might not be due to temperature changes.

The night outside was a deep, cold cup of darkness where no human thing moved.

There was a knock at the door.

I dropped the book and flashlight. Rene was up like a cat. He didn't turn on the light.

"Who's there?" he shouted.

There was a scratching noise at the door. Then a voice croaked, "My name is Isadore Summers."

I reached a trembling hand for the door.

"Wait, you fool!" Rene cried. He picked up the flash and got his gun. "Stand behind me and keep your hands off your gun. I know when to shoot and when not to shoot. You don't."

"If it's Uncle Isadore...."

"I tell you you've got to leave it up to me, if you want to get off this planet alive. Now stand back and keep your mouth shut, no matter what happens."

He kicked the door open and stood back and to one side of it. "Come in with your arms up!"

There was a sort of rustling sound and in walked a huge, white, wingless bird.

"My name," the dodo repeated, somewhat plaintively this time, with a glance toward the lunch compartment, "is Isadore Summers."

I couldn't help it. I rolled all over the ship with 

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