"Kershaw!" he called. "Where are you?"
"Over here." Kershaw stood briefly above the weeds and fell back again. Asa leaped over to him.
"Thanks," Kershaw said. "Muck men stick together. You'll make a good one. I wouldn't have had a chance. My leg's busted."
"The helicopter ought to be here pretty soon," Asa said. He looked over at the dead Slider and shook his head. "Tell me, what are the odds on getting killed doing this?"
"Last time I was here there was about one mucker killed for every six eggs brought out. Of course you're not supposed to stand there admiring the eggs like I did while a Slider comes up on you."
Asa hopped over to the egg, which was still full of a dancing radiance where it rested on the mud. He scooped a hole in the muck and buried the egg.
"Just in case there are any more Sliders around," he explained.
"Makes no difference," said Kershaw, pointing upward. "Here comes the 'copter, late as usual."
The big machine circled them, hovered to inspect the dead Slider, and settled down on broad skids. Through the transparent nose Asa could see Tom Dorr and Harriet Hazeltyne. The company manager swung the door open and leaned out.
"I see you took care of the Slider," he said. "Hand over the egg."