"You out of your head, Cal?" cried the co-pilot. "Come on, we've got to get you back to the hospital."
"No," said Calvin, pulling away again.
"What're you doing?" demanded the pilot. "What've you got there?"
"Think-plant. Dead," said Calvin, continuing his work. "Let go!" He fought weakly, but so fiercely that they did turn him loose again. "You don't understand. Saved my life."
"Saved your life?" The pilot followed him. "How?"
"I was on an island. In the river. Flood coming up." Calvin dug a fresh hole in the ground. "It could have lived a little longer. It let me pull it ahead of time—so I'd have something to float to shore on." He turned exhaustion-bleared eyes on them. "Saved my life."
The pilot and the co-pilot looked at each other as two men look at each other over the head of a child, or a madman.
"All right, Cal," said the pilot. "So it saved your life. But how come you've got to do this? And what are you doing, anyhow?"
"What am I doing?" Calvin paused entirely and turned to face them. "What am I doing?" he repeated on a rising note of wonder. "Why, you damn fools, I'm doing the first real thing I ever did in my life! I'm saving the lives of these seeds!"