“I’m not surprised.” Williamson was half smiling. “Mona does that to guys. We first got in touch with her when one of the boys--he’s gone the glowing way now--used one of our captured humanoid suits and made like a guard. We selected Mona as our contact because she’s completely and utterly loyal. And she’s probably the finest actress there is. “To get herself solid with the tetrarchs she ‘adopted’ that little jerk, Jerry Wilson. That was to convince them that she was sincere.” Rod, listening intently, nodded--he understood the why of that gnawing thought back on the lowlands now. “She keeps us informed of what the tetrarchs are planning--and she’s got them hoodwinked--particularly that rat, Latham Koler. “Guys are always trying to escape from the mines. Sometimes they survive. When they do there’s always some message from her. When they go she tells them how to get to us. But they have to promise to destroy the note if it looks as though they won’t get through.” “She didn’t say anything like that to me,” Rod flared. “She had faith in you,” Williamson said shortly, “besides she knew you knew.” “If you say so, Bill. I admit I missed the boat.” Rod’s thoughts were veering crazily. “But to get back to business, Rod,” Bill Williamson said, “I don’t know how long we’re going to be safe here. Our one lucky string is the tetrarch’s principle of the Hunt.” “I was going to ask you about that.” Rod was now alert. “Why don’t the tetrarchs account for every human that escaped?” “Well, boss,” the barrel-chested Bunny spoke, “they figure, how can they lose? All of us are due for the torch parade once we hit twenty-five.” “Further,” Williamson added, “from the info I’ve gotten from Mona, the tetrarchs use the Hunt to test themselves. For each quarry caught without aid of any kind a tetrarchian guard gets promoted. If the guard himself is overcome--on his home field--so to speak--the idea is they’re well rid of him. That means a constant process of self selection.... And it leaves us facing highly dangerous adversaries.” * * * * * The canvas covering the cave entrance rippled and a Survivor entered. “Look alive, pals,” he said, “there’s another guy looks like he’s going to get through to us.” “Hope he makes it,” the barrel-chested Bunny rose. “It’s my turn to put out the welcome mat.” “What does he plan to do?” Rod turned to Bill Williamson. “’Bout the same thing I did for you. If the fellow gets far enough along, the tetrarchs will retreat, or freeze, and the big fellow will bring him in.” “Why don’t we help the guy?” “What do you mean? What can we do?” “You said we had plenty of oxygen, didn’t you?” “Yeah. We got it stored in tanks we stole from the tetrarchs.” “Well, c’mon, Bill. Let’s explode a few or four.” “Lor Lumme! Tetrarch popcorn! What all will we need, Rod?” “About eight men. Two teams--two each--for diversion. And four men for the push. We’ll try it small scale for size.”