It was selfishness that had driven him along the back trail. He was returning for a kind of personal satisfaction. Deliberately taking chances when the stakes were higher than himself or his own feelings. But the island lay just ahead. It would be mad to turn back now that he had come this far. He ran the hydrocar into a little inlet, switched off the motor and climbed out. The coals of his campfire were still glowing. Carefully he began to search the trampled grass. A fern writhed in the sodden wind, and a glint of metal caught his eye. The official tube lay where it had fallen, close to the shore. But as Simms strode forward, a footstep sounded behind him. He stiffened and turned. An Earth man stood there on the little beach, hands resting triumphantly on hips, watching him. "Halleck!" In the swamp back of the space-rat lay a long _akimla_ canoe, filled with Kamali tribesmen, drawn by three waterskippers, their ugly beetle-like bodies lashed with an intricate network of harness. There was a mold gun in Halleck's hands, and he had it leveled before him. Out of the corner of his eye the lieutenant was searching desperately for a way of escape. Above him his upraised hands touched the spreading branch of a priest tree, and he saw that its farther extremity hung within a foot of Halleck's gun hand. Simms seized the branch and gave it a powerful downward jerk. And in the instant that the space-rat's weapon was pushed out of aim, he threw himself forward in a flying tackle. He fought desperately, aware that he had seconds in which to act and no more. A heavy kick in the groin sent a wave of nausea surging through him. Then his hands closed about the mold gun. He tore it free and pounded a hard blow into the space-rat's jaw. Twice he stuck. Then as Halleck slumped backward, he stumbled erect and trained the weapon on the advancing Kamalis, finger tight on trigger. "Back!" he snapped. "One move, and I fire. Get into that jitterbug chariot of yours and get going!" * * * * * Two days later a mud-stained, mold-encrusted hydrocar swung up to the jetty at BeTaba, Venusian Colonial Headquarters on the outer edge of Blue Swamp. Two haggard Earthmen climbed out, one still gripping a Kamali mold gun, the other, his hands bound behind him. They paced down the catwalk, entered the lock, and a moment later stood before the Post Major. Simms saluted and began a graphic description of all that had occurred. "Post One needs help sir," he concluded. "There were twelve cases of Mold Fever when I left, and the impentration walls are badly in need of repair. The Kamalis are on the verge of an intertribal war." The Major looked the prisoner over and nodded. All the defiance was gone from Halleck now. He stood there, lips twisted in a sullen snarl, eyes mirroring defeat. "The I.P. men have been after this rat for a long time," the Major said. "And now, Lieutenant, I'll have your official report."