A working party with its machines was repairing the fence the brontosaur had smashed through yesterday, the well it had wrecked, the viciously persistent inroads of grass and vine. A caterpillar tractor hauled a string of loaded wagons across raw red earth. A helicopter buzzed overhead, on watch for dinosaurs. It was the only flying thing. There had been a nearby pterodactyl rookery, but the men had cleaned that out months ago. When you got right down to facts, the most sinister animal of all was man.

Greenstein joined Herries. The new assistant was tall, slender, with curly brown hair and the defenseless face of youth. Above boots and dungarees he wore a blue sports shirt; it offered a kind of defiance to this sullen world. “Smoke?” he invited.

“Thanks.” Herries accepted the cigarette. His eyes still dwelt on the derricks. Their walking beams went up and down, up and down, like a joyless copulation. Perhaps a man could get used to the Jurassic rain forest and eventually see some dark beauty there, for it was at least life; but this field would always remain hideous, being dead and pumping up the death of men.

“How’s it going, Sam?” he asked when the tobacco had soothed his palate.

“All right,” said Greenstein. “I’m shaking down. But God, It’s good to know today is mail call!”

They stepped off the porch and walked toward the transceiving station. Mud squelched under their feet. A tuft of something, too pale and fleshy to be grass, stood near Herries’ path. The yard crew had better uproot that soon, or in a week it might claim the entire compound.

“Girl friend, I suppose,” said the chief. “That does make a month into a hell of a long drought between letters.”

Greenstein flushed and nodded earnestly. “We’re going to get married when my two years here are up,” he said.

“That’s what most of ’em plan on. A lot of saved-up pay and valuable experience—sure, you’re fixed for life.” It was on Herries’ tongue to add that the life might be a short one, but he suppressed the impulse.

Loneliness dragged at his nerves. There was no one waiting in the future for him. It was just as well, he told himself during the endless nights. Hard enough to sleep without worrying about some woman in the same age as the cobalt bomb.

‘‘I’ve got her picture here, if you’d like to see it,” offered Greenstein shyly.

His hand was already on his wallet. A tired grin slid up Herries’ mouth. “Right next to your…er…heart, eh?” he murmured.

Greenstein blinked, threw back his head, and laughed. The field had not heard so merry a laugh in a long while. Nevertheless, he showed the other man a pleasant-faced, unspectacular girl.

Out in the swamp, something hooted and threshed about.

Impulsively, Herries asked: “How do you feel about this operation, Sam?”

“Huh? Why, it’s…interesting work. And a good bunch of guys.”

“Even Symonds?”

“Oh, he means well.”

“We could have more fun if he didn’t bunk with us.”