Then he took the same bag and mattock and going through the woods in the opposite direction he came to a heavy growth in a cleared space of high ground.

The bloom heads were forming and the plant was half matured.

The Harvester dug a cylindrical, tapering root, wrinkling lengthwise, wiped it clean, broke and tasted it.

He made a wry face.

He stood examining the white wood with its brown-red bark and, deciding that it was in prime condition, he began digging the plants.