It was one of those blue-ceilinged days that were growing increasingly frequent with the coming of winter.  The trees were either bare now, or held the last few leaves, stark skeletons of white among the blue-green shadow of conifers, and the land had gone all brown and yellow, the woods thickly blanketed with leaves that rustled dustily dry.

Notebook in hand, Merritt took lower trail down to the river's edge around the bending of the promontory.  The river was now far lower than it had been at his arrival.  Rocks once submerged now stood well above the waterline, and there was a safe ledge to use in skirting the water.  It would be possible to get a line across to the other side, with Celestine's help and a little effort on the part of the men; and from that line a footbridge could be begun, to span the gorge.  It was going to be necessary to do a great deal of traveling from one side of the site to the other.

He descended to the very edge of the water, walking carefully because of the slickness of the rocks, where white curled up to the soles of his boots.  And in his mind, gazing at the narrows, he saw the structure that was going to take shape across the throat of that chasm; and the vast lake it was going to make behind it: spillways to let the overflow go, water for fields in season, safety for downriver, the river tamed to the service of man.

Once the river kept its banks, once there was dry and dependable land, Hestia could start to grow.  Boats could move at will on the lower course, and even ply the lake in safety; crops would come up in abundance, rail and river transport could move them, making full use of the steam engine that was Hestia's chief source of power now.  Electricity would follow, water-given and solar, and humans live in lightand warmth.  And beyond that, the world would make itself a respectable colony, a mote of an oasis in the course of starships: all if they could make this one beginning.

All if they had time.

A rustling disturbed the leaves farther up the trail.  Nails clicked on stone.  Merritt whipped his pistol out and turned, heart pounding, until he saw only brown Lady, tail wagging merrily, come panting up to him.  He put the gun away and caressed the dog's silky head.

"Well," he said to the dog, "where's your mistress, eh?"

And a moment more brought Meg Burns down the trail, following Lady.

"Hello," said Meg, dropping down to the ledge on which he stood.

"Don't make up to me," he said.  "Didn't I tell you I don't like your coming out to this place alone?  You used to have good sense."

She grinned and came into his arms, a pleasant bundle of soft leather and furs and homespun, for the air was cold.  He kissed her on the lips and set her back again.

"That dog isn't much protection to you, you know," he told her.  "She's not very fierce."

"You don't have anyone at all out here with you.  And you stay out so late, all alone."

"I'm armed; you're not."

"That's all right.  I don't like guns, and Lady's my ears.  - What haveyou decided out here all by yourself?  Why did you send the men back?"

"Because there was nothing more for them to do here today, and I'm trying to make up my mind what to do next."

"What is that, then?"