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with animals talking,” he announced. John Thomas did not answer; it did not seem to be a remark to which an answer could be made.
    Now that he had time John Thomas was anxious to examine something on Lummox which had been worrying him. He had first noticed the symptoms on the morning following Lummox’s disastrous stroll-two swellings located where Lummox’s shoulders would have been had he been so equipped. Yesterday they had seemed larger, which disturbed him, for he had hoped that they were just bruises…not that Lummox bruised easily.
    But they fretted him. It seemed possible that Lummox had hurt himself during the accidental gymkhana he had taken part in. The shot that Mr. Ito had taken at him had not damaged him; there had been a slight powder burn where the explosive charge had struck him but that was all; a charge that would destroy a tank was to Lummox about like a hearty kick to a mule…startling, but not harmful.
    Lummox might have bruised himself in plunging through the greenhouses, but that seemed unlikely. More probably he had been hurt in falling off the viaduct. John Thomas knew that such a fall would kill any Earth animal big enough to have an unfavorable cube-square ratio, such as an elephant. Of course Lummox, with his unearthly body chemistry, was not nearly as fragile as an elephant…still, he might have bruised himself badly.
    Dog take it! the swellings were bigger than ever, real tumors now, and the hide over them seemed softer and thinner, not quite the armor that encased Lummox elsewhere. John Thomas wondered if a person like Lummox could get cancer, say from a bruise? He did not know and he did not know anyone who would. Lummox had never been ill as far back as John Thomas could remember, nor had his father ever mentioned Lummox having anything wrong with him. Lummox was the same today, yesterday, and always—except that he kept getting bigger.
    He would have to look over his grandfather’s diary tonight and his great grandfather’s notes. Maybe he had missed something…
    He pressed one of the swellings, trying to dig his fingers in; Lummox stirred restlessly. John Thomas stopped and said anxiously, “Does that hurt?”
    “No,” the childish voice answered, “it tickles .”
    The answer did not reassure him. He knew that Lummox was ticklish, but it usually took something like a pickaxe to accomplish it. The swellings must be very sensitive. He was about to investigate farther when he was hailed from behind.
    “John! Johnnie!”
    He turned. Betty Sorenson was outside the cage. “Hi, Slugger,” he called to her. “You got my message?”
    “Yes, but not until after eight o’clock. You know the dorm rules. Hi, Lummox. How’s my baby?”
    “Fine,” said Lummox.
    “That’s why I recorded,” John Thomas answered. “The idiots rousted me out of bed before daylight. Silly.”
    “Do you good to see a sunrise. But what is all this rush? I thought the hearing was next week?”
    “It was supposed to be. But some heavyweight from the Department of Space is coming out from Capital. He’s going to try it,”
    “ What? ”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “The matter? Why, everything! I don’t know this man from Capital. I thought I was going to deal with Judge O’Farrell… I know what makes him tick. This new judge…well, I don’t know. In the second place, I’ve got ideas I haven’t had time to work out yet.” She frowned. “We’ll have to get a postponement.”
    “What for?” asked John Thomas. “Why don’t we just go into court and tell the truth?”
    “Johnnie, you’re hopeless. If that was all there was to it, there wouldn’t be any courts.”
    “Maybe that would be an improvement.”
    “But… Look, Knothead, don’t stand there making silly noises. If we have to appear in less than an hour…” She glanced up at the clock tower on the ancient courthouse. “A good deal less. We’ve got to move fast. At the very least, we’ve got to get that homestead claim