"Use your light, Legion!" he shouted hoarsely. I was still standing, frozen. The globes rushed straight at Foster, ignoring me. Behind me, I heard the publican turn and run. I fumbled with the flashlight switch, snapped it on, swung the beam of white light on Foster. The globe at his head vanished as the light touched it. More globes swarmed to Foster--and popped like soap bubbles in the flashlight's glare--but more swarmed to take their place. Foster reeled, fighting at them. He swung the light--and I heard it smash against the stone behind him. In the instant darkness, the globes clustered thick around his head. "Foster," I yelled, "run!" He got no more than five yards before he staggered, went to his knees. "Cover," he croaked. He fell on his face. I rushed the mass of darting globes, took up a stance straddling his body. A sulphurous reek hung around me. I coughed, concentrated on beaming the lights around Foster's head. No more were rising from the crack in the earth now. A suffocating cloud pressed around both of us, but it was Foster they went for. I thought of the slab; if I could get my back to it, I might have a chance. I stooped, got a grip on Foster's coat, and started back, dragging him. The lights boiled around me. I swept the beam of light and kept going until my back slammed against the stone. I crouched against it. Now they could only come from the front. I glanced at the cleft the lights had come from. It looked big enough to get Foster into. That would give him some protection. I tumbled him over the edge, then flattened my back against the slab and settled down to fight in earnest. I worked in a pattern, sweeping vertically, then horizontally. The globes ignored me, drove toward the cleft, fighting to get at Foster, and I swept them away as they came. The cloud around me was smaller now, the attack less ravenous. I picked out individual globes, snuffed them out. The hum became ragged, faltered. Then there were only a few globes around me, milling wildly, disorganized. The last half dozen fled, bumbling away across the plain. I slumped against the rock, sweat running down into my eyes, my lungs burning with the sulphur. "Foster," I gasped. "Are you all right?" He didn't answer. I flashed the light onto the cleft. It showed me damp clay, a few pebbles. Foster was gone. CHAPTER VI I scrambled to the edge of the pit, played the light around inside. It shelved back at one side, and a dark mouth showed, sloping down into the earth: the hiding place the globes had swarmed from. Foster was wedged in the opening. I scrambled down beside him, tugged him back to level ground. He was still breathing; that was something. I wondered if the pub owner would come back, now that the lights were gone--or if he'd tell someone what had happened, bring out a search party. Somehow, I doubted it. He didn't seem like the type to ask for trouble with the ghosts of ancient sinners.