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before they could work their way into the
woods. One part of Hume protested, the more cautious section of his
mind was appeased. He saw, beyond the three clients now turning over
and sorting space bags, Wass' man glanced at the woods and then back
to Starns. And, being acutely aware of all undercurrents here, Hume
wondered what the small civ had actually seen.
    The camp was complete, a cluster of seven bubble tents not too far
from the ship. At least this crowd did not appear to consider that the
Hunter was there to do all the serious moving and storing of supplies.
All three of the clients pitched in to help, and Wass' man went down
to the river to return with half a dozen silver-fins cleaned and
threaded on a reed, ready to broil over the cook unit.
    A fire in the night was not needed except to afford the proper stage
setting. But it was enjoyed. Hume leaned forward to feed the flames,
and Starns pushed some lengths of driftwood closer.
    "You have said, Hunter, that hunting worlds never contain intelligent
native life. Unless the planet is minutely explored how can your
survey teams be sure of that fact?" His voice bordered on the
pedantic, but his interest was plain.
    "By using the verifier." Hume sat crosslegged, his plasta-hand resting
on one knee. "Fifty years ago, we would have had to keep rather a
lengthy watch to be sure of a free world. Now, we plant verifiers at
suitable test points. Intelligence means mental activity of some
sort—any of which would be recorded on the verifier."
    "Amazing!" Starns extended his plump hands to the flames in the
immemorial gesture of a human attracted not only to the warmth of the
burning wood, but to its promise of security against the forces of the
dark. "No matter how few, or how scattered your native thinkers may
be, you record them without missing any?"
    Hume shrugged. "Maybe one or two," he grinned, "might get through such
a screening. But we have yet to discover a planet with such a sparse
native life as that at the level of intelligence."
    Yactisi juggled a cup in and out of the firelight. "I agree, this is
most interesting." He was a thin man, with scanty drab gray hair and
dark skin, perhaps the result of the mingling of several human races.
His eyes were slightly sunken, so that it was difficult in this light
to read their expression. He was, Hume had already decided, a class
one brain and observant to a degree, which could either be a help or a
menace. "There have been no cases of failure?"
    "None reported," Hume returned. All his life he had relied on machines
operating, of course, under the competent domination of men trained to
use them properly. He understood the process of the verifier, had seen
it at work. At the Guild Headquarters there were no records of its
failure; he was willing to believe it was infallible.
    "A race residing in the sea now—could you be sure your machine would
discover its presence?" Starns continued to question.
    Hume laughed. "Not to be found on Jumala, you may be sure of that—the
seas here are small and shallow. Such, not to be picked up by the
verifier, would have to exist at great depths and never venture on
land. So we need not fear any surprises here. The Guild takes no
chances."
    "As it always continues to assure one," Yactisi replied. "The hour
grows late. I wish you rewarding dreams." He arose to go to his own
bubble tent.
    "Yes, indeed!" Starns blinked at the fire and then scrambled up in
turn. "We hunt along the river, then, tomorrow?"
    "For water-cat," Hume agreed. Of the three, he believed Chambriss the
most impatient. Might as well let him pot his trophy as soon as
possible. The ex-pilot deduced there would be little cooperation in
exploration from that client until he was satisfied in his own quest.
    Rovald, Wass' man, lingered by the fire until the three civs were safe
in their bubbles.
    "River range tomorrow?" he asked.
    "Yes. We can't rush the deal."
    "Agreed." Rovald spoke with a curtness he did not use when the