Needle

An observer during those few days, familiar with the course of events not only between Bob and his guest but in the offices of the school officials, would have been amused. On the one hand, the Hunter and his host were concentrating on trying to find an excuse for leaving; on the other, the headmaster and his staff were wondering volubly about the cause of the boy's suddenly developed inattention, listlessness, and general failure to measure up to his earlier standards; more than one of them remarked that it might be well to get the youngster back to his parents' hands for a time. The Hunter's mere presence- or rather, Bob's knowledge of it-was producing conditions bound in the end to lead to the very situation they wanted. He was, of course, doing the boy no physical damage, but the preoccupation with the current problem and a number of too-public conversations with the concealed alien constituted a behavior pattern only too noticeable to those responsible for Bob's well-being.

The doctor was eventually consulted on the matter. He reported the boy's health sheet clean, with no illness whatever this term and only two minor injuries. He examined the still-healing arm again, on the chance that an unsuspected infection might be responsible, but of course found nothing. His report left the masters mystified. Bob had changed from a normally pleasant and gregarious youngster to a solitary and at times almost sullen individual. At their request the doctor had a private interview with Robert.

He learned nothing concrete this time, either, but he gained the impression that Bob had a problem on his mind which he did not wish to share with anyone. Being a doctor, he formed a perfectly justified but quite erroneous theory on the nature of the problem, and recommended that the boy be returned to the care of his parents for a few months. It was as simple as that!

The headmaster wrote a letter to Mr. Ki

Bob's father rather doubted the doctor's theories. He knew his son well, considering the relatively small amount he had seen of him in recent years; but he concurred with Mr. Raylance's suggestion. After all, if the kid were not doing well at school it was a waste of time to have him there whatever the reason for the trouble. There was a perfectly good doctor and-though Mrs. Ki

To say that Robert and the Hunter were surprised at the news is a distinct understatement. The boy stared wordlessly at Mr. Raylance, who had called him into his office to inform him of the imminent journey, while the Hunter strove unsuccessfully to read a few papers which were exposed on the headmaster's desk.

Eventually Bob recovered the use of his voice. "But what is the reason, sir? Has anything happened at home?"

"No, everything is all right. We felt that you might be better off there for a few months, that's all. You haven't been hitting your usual mark lately, have you?"

To the Hunter, this remark explained the situation with crystal clarity, and he metaphorically kicked himself for not having foreseen it; to Bob, understanding came more slowly.

"You mean-I'm being kicked out of school? I didn't think it was that dad-and it's only been a few days."

"No, no, nothing of the sort." The headmaster missed the implications of Bob's last remark. "We notice that you seemed to be having trouble, and the doctor thought you needed a little time off. We'll be glad to have you back next fall. If your like, we can send along a study outline with you, and the teacher on the island can help you keep up with it, You can spread that work through the whole summer and will probably be able to stay with your class when you come back. Is that all right? Or"-he smiled- "is it just that you don't want to go home?"

Bob returned the smile rather lamely. "Oh, I'll be glad enough to go, all right. I mean-" He paused, rather embarrassed as he realized another possible construction of his words.

Mr. Raylance laughed aloud. "All right, Bob. Don't worry-I understand what you mean. You'd better get packed and say good-by to your friends; I'll try to get you a reservation for tomorrow on the usual ah" route. I'm sorry you're going; the hockey team will certainly miss you. However, the season is nearly over, and you'll be back in time for football. Good luck."

They shook hands, and Bob dazedly went to his room and began to pack. He said nothing to the Hunter; it was not necessary. He had long since given up taking the statements of his elders at face value simply because they were his elders, but try as he might he could find no ulterior motive lurking behind the words and actions of the headmaster. He decided, for the time being, to take his luck without question and leave the next step to the Hunter.

That individual had ceased to worry from the time he had realized the import of Mr. Raylance's words. The removal of a source of anxiety affected him just as it frequently does a human being-he tended to feel, for a time, as though troubles were a thing of the past. It might be too much to say that he felt his job was as good as done; but there would have been some excuse if he had felt that way. He was a good detective. He had, of course, some failures against his record, but not one of them had occurred while be had the advantage of an intelligent and co-operative host to supply the physical powers his own body lacked. Bob was not Jenver, but he had come to feel strongly attached to the youngster.

This atmosphere of self-congratulation continued during Bob's packing and even through part of the trip. Mr. Raylance was successful in obtaining the reservation, and the next day Bob took the bus to Boston and caught the noon plane to Seattle, where they were to change to the TPA plane. During the ride and flight the boy talked with his guest whenever possible, but the conversation was purely about the events and scenes of the trip. They did not turn to business until they were over the Pacific, for Bob always accepted without any particular thought the Hunter's ability to take care of things once they reached the scene of action.

"Say, Hunter, just how are you going to find this friend of yours? And what will you do to him then? Have you some means of getting at him without hurting his host?"

It was a shock. For once the Hunter was glad that his method of speech was less easily used than Bob's. Had it been otherwise, he would almost certainly have started talking before he realized he had nothing to say. In the next five seconds he wondered whether he might not have left behind somewhere the mass of tissue that normally served him for a brain.

Of course his quarry had long since hidden-must by now be established in another body, just as the Hunter himself was. That was nothing unusual. Normally, however, such a being-undetectable by sight, sound, smell, or touch-was detected by chemical, physical, and biological tests, with or without the co-operation of the being acting as host. He knew all those tests; be could administer them, in some cases, so rapidly that while merely brushing against a suspected organism he could tell if one of his own people were present, and even make a good guess at his identity. There were something like a hundred and sixty people on the island, Bob had said. They could be covered in a few days' testing-but he could not make the tests!

All of his equipment and supplies had gone with his ship. Even with the fantastic assumption that he could find the hulk again it would be folly to suppose that instruments had remained unbroken and chemical containers sealed through the crash and the five subsequent months under salt water.