If there were opposing sides ... and if it were a game, there'd have to be ... they didn't seem to alternate the moves. Although, Meek admitted, certain rules and conditions which he had failed to note or recognize, might determine the number and order of moves allowed each side.
Suddenly there was confusion on the board. For a moment a half-dozen of the bugs raced madly about, as if seeking the proper hole to occupy. Then, as suddenly, all movement had ceased. And in another moment, they were on the move again, orderly again, but retracing their movements, going back several plays beyond the point of confusion.
Just as one would do when one made a mistake working a mathematical problem ... going back to the point of error and going on again from there.
"Well, I'll be...." Mr. Meek said.
Meek stiffened and the stylus floated out of his hand, settled softly on the rock below.
A mathematical problem!
His breath gurgled in his throat.
He knew it now! He should have known it all the time. But the mechanic had talked about the bugs playing games and so had Hamilton. That had thrown him off.
Games! Those bugs weren't playing any game. They were solving mathematical equations!
Meek leaned forward to watch, forgetting where he was. One of the stilts slipped out of position and Meek felt himself start to fall. He dropped the notebook and frantically clawed at empty space.