It was an unfortunate remark, Matt thought. Isaac Trigg, he noticed, was looking haggard when he rose. The director said, "Sparks is still broadcasting, trying to reach any radio station that might be in operation...." Matt interrupted, "But it's possible, Isaac, that there are communities without a radio." "Yes," agreed Trigg. "We're not in a position, though, to send out extended exploration parties. That'll have to wait--" Suddenly, Barb Poindexter screamed! She was sitting close to the starboard passage. Matt whirled around, his eyes almost starting from his head. A gaunt, half-naked man crouched in the doorway! * * * * * For seconds an absolute silence gripped everyone in the room. The man continued to crouch there, a frightened expression in his sunken eyes. He was barefooted and clad only in the ragged remnants of a pair of trousers. And there was an iron collar about his neck from which a short length of chain dangled! Matt stared at it in disbelief. Suddenly, the man seemed to hear something. His expression of fright intensified. He took a half-step into the room, clasping his bony hands before him. "Please, sirs, please! Don't let them get me. Oh, my God, don't let them take me back!" "Eh?" said the director. Matt asked, "Let who get you?" "The women! Listen! You can hear them. They're trailing me up the ravine like a pack of hounds. Oh, my God, don't let them take me...." "Shut up!" said Matt. "How can we hear anything with you squalling?" The man stopped talking. In the silence, Matt could hear a faint yelping. It did sound something like an excited pack of hounds. And yet there was a weird bloodcurdling overtone that was half human. Matt could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck like the hackles of a dog. "That's them! That's them!" The half-naked man screamed. He dropped to his knees. "Don't let them catch me. Look!" He turned around. Livid scars striped his back. Whip scars. Matt sprang to his feet. "Get the rifles!" he cried over his shoulder, and ran from the room. Armed with his rifle and a powerful spotlight, Matt dashed down the passage and brought up panting at the open air lock. It was night, but there was a full moon. The scrub pine and oak reared up on either hand, black and silver. The ululating cries were closer now, ringing up the valley. He could see lights flashing back and forth in the trees as the pack cast about for the fugitive's trail in the dark. Matt stood in the round port, the passage behind him jammed with the curious members of the expedition. All at once, the shouting below fell silent, the lights winked off. "What is it? Do you see anything?" Trigg called nervously. "Nothing." Matt realized that he was silhouetted against the light in the passage. "Turn off the lights."