"Then I tie off what's left of my leg. What's hanging loose, I had to cut off. Well, kid, did Harp ever tell you a story like that?"

"No. Treefodder, he'd love it! Oh."

"He'd make me famous. I don't want to be fanious that way."

Gavving chewed it over. "Why tell me now?"

"I don't know. My turn," Jiovan said suddenly. He filled his lungs and disappeared into the smoke.

Gavving felt burdened. Always he asked too many questions. He grinned guiltily, picturing Jiovan trying to throw a line with a turkey flapping at each end. But what if Jiovan regretted telling it?

He saw Clave appear from behind the curve of the tnmk.

Jiovan emerged, bringing smoke, and Gavving held his breath while it cleared. Jiovan coughed a little. "It's been so long," he said. "Maybe it doesn't hurt as much. Maybe I just wanted to tell it. Maybe I had to."

"They're coming back," Gavving said. "I wonder what's got them so excited?"

Clave bellowed, "I will not go home without learning something about them!"

"I know quite a lot about them," the Grad answered. "We all lived in the far tuft once. The Quinns left after some kind of disagreement.

Before that, it was Dalton-Quinn Tribe."

"Then they're relatives."

The argument had grown a little less chaotic, but only because half the troop was trailing back. It was no less vehement. Alfin shouted, "You're not listening. They kicked us out! For all we know, they think they're still at war with us!"

The Grad said, "Clave, the tribemarks are tended, and we aren't finding as many fan fungi lately, or the shelled things either. I'm thinking they keep this stretch of trunk clean. They must be still around. Our move is to get out of here!"

"You want to run from something you haven't even seen!"

"We saw the tribal insignia," the Grad said. "DQ. No takeout mark across the Q. Maybe they still call themselves Dalton-Quinn. What does that make us? Intruders on their tree? We've passed the median anyway, we're in their space. Clave, let's go home. Kill another nose-arm, pick some fan fungus and one of the shells, and go home with plenty of food." Clave was shaking his head. "The tribe won't have to go thirsty any more either! We bring water from the trunk.-"

Clave waved it away. "That water would get to the tuft anyway. No. I want to meet the Daltons. It's been hundreds of years, we don't know what they're like. . . maybe they know better tending methods for the

earthlife, or ways to get water. Maybe they grow food we never heard

of. Something. 'Day, Jiovan."

"'Day. What's going on?"

"We found a tribemark and it isn't ours. The question before the citizenry is, do we say hello before going home? Or do we just run?"