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newsstands there are nopublications from western lands. Why? Because still, after fiftyyears, our Communist bureaucracy dare not allow its people to readwhat they will. I note, too, that the shops on 25th October Avenue arenot all directed toward the Russian man on the street, unless he ispaid unbelievably more than we have heard. Sable coats? Jewelery?Luxurious furniture? I begin to suspect that our Soviet friends arenot quite so classless as Mr. Marx had in mind when he and Mr. Engelsworked out the rough framework of the society of the future."

  Loo said seriously, "Oh, there are a great many things of that type tonotice here in the Soviet Union."

  Hank had to grin. "Well, I'm glad you jokers still have open minds."

  Paco waggled a finger negatively at him. "We've had open minds allalong, my friend. It is yours that seems closed. In spite of the factthat I spent four years in your country I sometimes confess I don'tunderstand you Americans. I think you are too immersed in your TVprograms, your movies and your light fiction."

  "I can feel myself being saddled up again," Hank complained. "All setfor another riding."

  Loo laughed softly, his perfect white teeth gleaming in his blackface.

  Paco said, "You seem to have the fictional _good guys and bad guys_outlook. And, in this world of controversy, you assume that you arethe good guys, the heroes, and since that is so then the Soviets mustbe the bad guys. And, as in the movies, everything the good guys do isfine and everything the bad guys do, is evil. I sometimes think thatif the Russians had developed a cure for cancer first you Americanswould have refused to use it."

  Hank had had enough. He said, "Look, Paco, there are two hundredmillion Americans. For you, or anyone else, to come along and try tolump that many people neatly together is pure silliness. You'll findevery type of person that exists in the world in any country. The verytops of intelligence, and submorons living in institutions; the mosthighly educated of scientists, and men who didn't finish grammarschool; you'll find saints, and gangsters; infant prodigies andjuvenile delinquents; and millions upon millions of just plainordinary people much like the people of Argentina, or England, orFrance or whatever. True enough, among all our two hundred millionthere are some mighty prejudiced people, some mighty backward ones,and some downright foolish ones. But if you think the United Statesgot to the position she's in today through the efforts of a wholepeople who are foolish, then you're obviously pretty far off the beamyourself."

  Paco was looking at him narrowly. "Accepted, friend Hank, and Iapologize. That's quite the most effective outburst I've heard fromyou in this week we've known each other. It occurs to me that perhapsyou are other than I first thought."

  _Oh, oh._ Hank backtracked. He said, "Good grief, let's drop it."

  Paco said, "Well, just to change the subject, gentlemen, there is onething above all that I noted here in Leningrad."

  "What was that?" Loo said.

  "It's the only town I've ever seen where I felt an urge to kiss acop," Paco said soulfully. "Did you notice? Half the traffic police intown are cute little blondes."

  Loo rolled over. "A fascinating observation, but personally I am goingto take a nap. Tonight it's the Red Arrow Express to Moscow and restmight be in order, particularly if the train has square wheels, burnswood and stops and repairs bridges all along the way, as I'm sure Hankbelieves."

  Hank reached down, got hold of one of his shoes and heaved it.

  "Missed!" Loo grinned.

  * * * * *

  The Red Arrow Express had round wheels, burned Diesel fuel and madethe trip between Leningrad and Moscow overnight. In one respect, itwas the most unique train ride Hank Kuran had ever had. The trackcontained not a single curve from the one city to the other. Itsengineers must have laid the roadbed out with a ruler.

  The cars like the rest of public transportation, were as comfortableas any Hank knew. Traveling second class, as the Progressive Tourspilgrims did, involved four people in a compartment for the night,with one exception. At the end of the car was a smaller compartmentcontaining two bunks only.

  The Intourist guide who had shepherded them around Leningrad took themto the train, saw them all safely aboard, told them another Intouristemployee would pick them up at the station in Moscow.

  It was late. Hank was assigned the two-bunk compartment. He put hisglasses on the tiny window table, sat on the edge of the lower andbegan to pull off his shoes. He didn't look up when the door openeduntil a voice said, icebergs dominating the tone, "Just what are youdoing in here?"

  Hank blinked up at her. "Hello, Char. What?"

  Char Moore snapped, "I said, what are you doing in my compartment?"

  "Yours? Sorry, the conductor just assigned me here. Evidently there'sbeen some mistake."

  "I suggest you rectify it, Mr. Stevenson."

  Out in the corridor a voice, heavy with Britishisms, complainedplaintively, "Did you ever hear the loik? They put men and women intothe same compartment. Oim expected to sleep with a loidy in the bunkunder me."

  Hank cleared his throat, didn't allow himself the luxury of a smile.He said, "I'll see what I can do, Char. Seems to me I did readsomewhere that the Russkies see nothing wrong in putting strangers inthe same sleeping compartment."

  Char Moore stood there, saying nothing but breathing deeply enough toexpress American womanhood insulted.

  "All right, all right," he said, retying his shoes and retrieving hisglasses. "I didn't engineer this." He went looking for the conductor.

  He was back, yawning by this time, fifteen minutes later. Char Moorewas sitting on the side of the bottom bunk, sipping a glass of teathat she'd bought for a few kopecks from the portress. She looked upcoolly as he entered, but her voice was more pleasant. "Get everythingfixed?"

  Hank said, "What bunk do you want, upper or lower?"

  "That's not funny."

  "It's not supposed to be." Hank pulled his bag from under the bunk andfrom it drew pajamas and his dressing gown. "Check with the rest ofthe tour if you want. The conductor couldn't care less. We wereevidently assigned compartments by Intourist and where we wereassigned we'll sleep. Either that or you can stand in the corridor allnight. I'll be damned if I will."

  "You don't have to swear," Char bit out testily. "What are we going todo about it?"

  "I just told you what I was going to do." Taking up his things heopened the door. "I'll change in the men's dressing room."

  "I'll lock the door," Char Moore snapped.

  Hank grinned at her. "I'll bet that if you do the conductor either hasa passkey or will break it down for me."

  When he returned in slippers, nightrobe and pajamas, Char was in theupper berth, staring angrily at the compartment ceiling. There were nohooks or other facilities for hanging or storing clothes. She musthave put all of her things back into her bag. Hank grinned inwardly,carefully folded his own pants and jacket over his suitcase beforeclimbing into the bunk.

  "Don't snore, do you?" he said conversationally.

  No answer.

  "Or walk in your sleep?"

  "You're not funny, Mr. Stevenson."

  "That's what I like about this country," Hank said. "Progressive. Wayahead of the West. Shucks, modesty is a reactionary capitalisticanachronism. Shove 'em all into bed together, that's what I alwayssay." He laughed.

  "Oh, shut up," Char said. But then she laughed, too. "Actually, Isuppose there's nothing wrong with it. We are rather Victorian aboutsuch things in the States."

  Hank groaned. "There you are. If a railroad company at home suggestedyou spend the night in a compartment with a strange man, you'd suethem. But here in the promised land it's O.K."

  After a short silence Char said, "Hank, why do you dislike the SovietUnion so much?"

  "Why? Because I'm an American!"

  She said so softly as to be almost inaudible, "I've known you for aweek now. Somehow you don't really seem to be the type who would makethat inadequate a statement."

  Hank said "Look, Char. There's a cold war going on between
the UnitedStates and her allies and the Soviet complex. I'm on our side. It'sgoing to be one or the other."

  "No it isn't, Hank. If it ever breaks out into hot war, it's going tobe both. That is, unless the extraterrestrials add some new elementsto the whole disgusting situation."

  "Let's put it another way. Why are you so pro-Soviet?"

  She raised herself on one elbow and scowled down over the edge of herbunk at him. Inside, Hank turned over twice to see the unbound redhair, the serious green eyes. Imagine