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so sure that this person was facing the other way that it gave me a real shock when the person said, “What are you waiting for? It’s got to the hurry-hurry part,” and went marching past me.
    I turned round as the person went past, and there wasn’t a face on the back of their head either. It seemed to be black hair all round. And whoever-it-was was marching so fast through the sand that I was quite ashamed. After all, the person was no bigger than I was.
    I went hastening and ploughing after. It was really heavy going. “You don’t have to hurry when it says so,” I panted.
    â€œI know I don’t,” snapped the person, marching swifter than ever.
    â€œThen why—how do you manage to walk so fast in this sand anyway?” I gasped. Both my shoes were full of sand by then.
    â€œBecause I’m used to it,” snapped the person. “I live here.” And stopped and waited for me. I crunched and waded up very cautiously, thinking that this couldn’t be a Homeward Bounder after all—in which case, on that world, watch out! And yet—and yet—Well, all I can say is that you get to know the look of a Homeward Bounder, and I still thought this was. “I am Haras-uquara,” she said haughtily, when I got there. “My name is Helen in the language of the wider times.”
    â€œMine’s Jamie,” I said, trying to look at her in the fierce sun. She must have a face, I decided, on the front of her head, in the usual way. I could just see the pointed brown tip of a nose poking out among the black hair there. But her hair really did seem to hang down the same way all round her head. She was dressed in black trousers and a black sweater and had black shoes with thick bouncy soles on her feet. Now the people in this world were a peculiar lot, but they always wore armor, and had their hair scraped back inside a helmet with a mirror-attachment so that they could see what was coming to attack from behind. And they spoke a croaking, gabbling language. She had spoken to me in English. “You can’t come from here,” I said. “You’re speaking English.”
    â€œOf course,” she said. “I saw you were a stranger and I spoke to you in the language of the wider times.”
    We began to shuffle towards the Boundary as she said this. You find you really have to go when they call.
    â€œAnd you’re a Homeward Bounder too?” I said, shuffling.
    The tip of her nose stuck up disgustedly. “Is that what you call yourself? I’m an exile, condemned by the mouth of Uquar. They turned me out of the House of Uquar, and of course I got stoned. I’m angry.”
    She was lucky only to have been stoned, I thought. My eyes were watering in the sun, but I could see that her black clothes were splashed with sandy white mud all over. In some places there were holes, and she was bleeding a bit where the holes came. It looked as if she was telling the truth. “Why were you turned out?” I said.
    â€œBecause of Them, ” she said, with immense hatred.
    I knew she was telling the truth. Only somebody new to the Bounds would talk about Them like that. “ They don’t like you to talk about Them ,” I said.
    â€œIt’s what I like, not what They like that matters,” she said. “I’m not Their slave! I’m going freely into honorable exile. So there!”
    â€œWhy?” I said.
    â€œBecause of my gift,” she said, and went stalking up the hill to the Boundary.
    I suppose I should have let her go. She wasn’t exactly friendly. But it narked me to see her going so fast while I floundered, and I knew that as soon as we got to the Boundary, we’d both be twitched off different ways and I’d never see her again. So I floundered hard and got to the top of the hill at the same time as she did. It was only a small Boundary. And it was typical of Helen’s beastly world that it