Campbell's mouth twisted, bitter and sardonic. He said softly:
"God help the unconstructive!"
The old Kraylen murmured, "What happened to those others, my son?"
Campbell's lean shoulders twitched. "Some of them died. Some of them submitted. The rest...."
He turned, so suddenly that the old man flinched. Campbell's dark eyes had a hot light in them, and his face was sharply alive.
"The rest," he said evenly, "went to Romany."
He talked, then. Urgently, pacing the hut in nervous catlike strides, trying to remember things he had heard and not been very much interested in at the time. When he was through, the Kraylen said:
"It would be better. Infinitely better. But—" He spread his long pale hands, and his white crest drooped. "But there is no time. Government men will come within three
