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"
Oh
,
dear
!
I
thought
we
had
him
safe
at
last
.
"
"
There
is
no
safety
this
side
of
the
grave
.
"
"
Well
?
what
are
you
going
to
do
about
it
,
Jubal
?
"
"
Nothing
.
Just
fret
,
that
’
s
all
.
"
Mike
stored
their
conversation
without
any
effort
to
grok
it
.
He
recognized
the
subject
as
one
of
utter
simplicity
in
his
own
language
but
amazingly
slippery
in
English
.
Since
his
failure
to
achieve
mutual
grokking
on
this
subject
,
even
with
his
brother
Mahmoud
,
with
his
admittedly
imperfect
translation
of
the
all
-
embracing
Martian
concept
as
:
"
Thou
art
God
,
"
be
had
simply
waited
until
grokking
was
possible
.
He
knew
that
the
waiting
would
fructify
at
its
time
;
his
brother
Jill
was
learning
his
language
and
he
would
be
able
to
explain
it
to
her
.
They
would
grok
together
.
In
the
meantime
the
scenery
flowing
beneath
him
was
a
never
-
ending
delight
,
and
he
was
filled
with
eagerness
for
experience
to
come
.
He
expected
,
or
hoped
,
to
meet
a
human
Old
One
.
Senator
Tom
Boone
was
waiting
to
meet
them
at
the
landing
flat
.
"
Howdy
,
folks
!
And
may
the
Good
Lord
bless
you
on
this
beautiful
Sabbath
.
Mr
.
Smith
,
I
’
m
happy
to
see
you
again
.
And
you
,
too
,
Doctor
.
"
He
took
his
cigar
out
of
his
mouth
and
looked
at
Jill
.
"
And
this
little
lady
–
didn
’
t
I
see
you
at
the
Palace
?
"
"
Yes
,
Senator
.
I
’
m
Gillian
Boardman
.
"
"
Thought
so
,
m
’
dear
.
Are
you
saved
?
"
"
Uh
,
I
guess
not
,
Senator
.
"
