"Dogs can run wild," Matt reminded him. "They're a hell of a sight less dangerous than bulls." * * * * * The next morning, it was decided that a party of five of the younger men should reconnoiter the immediate vicinity, being careful not to go so far that they couldn't make it back to the ship by dark. "Be careful," the director admonished them. Matt, who was one of the party, noticed that Isaac Trigg's hands shook slightly. He had not shaved, and deep blue circles haunted his eyes. "The country hereabouts seems to be quite wild. We ..." the director bit his lip--"we may have come down in a plague area that has been segregated!" The same thought had been uppermost in everyone's mind, but none of them had had the courage to express it. "Don't," went on the director, "drink or eat anything except what you take along, and be careful about investigating deserted houses. That's all, I suppose--and good luck." They were turning to leave when Lynn Clark presented herself. "Hold on," she said. "I'm going along." "Nonsense!" exploded the director. "The women are staying here in the ship!" Matt said, "Don't be obstinate, Lynn." But the girl set her mouth. "I'm the official photographer and reporter. It's my job." She was dressed in breeches and boots and a loose shirt. She had a holstered automatic slung about her hips, and it wasn't a woman's pearl-handled toy, but an ugly black .45 automatic pistol. Matt said, "We don't know what we might run up against. Frankly, Lynn, we can't afford to be handicapped with looking after you." She gave him a scathing glance. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you or anyone else to look after me!" She walked to the open air lock, drew the automatic and fired six shots at a sapling some twenty-five yards distant. Bark flew. The sapling quivered. All six shots, Matt realized, could have been covered by a four-inch circle. She turned around and eyed the palaeobotanist coolly. "As for taking care of myself, Mister Magoffin, I may not be as big as a horse, but I can handle you. If you've any doubts, I'm perfectly willing to bat your ears down to prove it." And she eyed him wickedly. Someone tittered. Matt could feel himself getting red. His neck swelled. Then his sense of humor came to his rescue, and he roared, slapping his thighs. He couldn't have done anything that would have disconcerted Lynn more. She flushed darkly and slung the camera about her neck. "Nevertheless, I'm going along." Matt shrugged. "Fine, we can use you as a guard." The director said helplessly, "Very well, Miss Clark, but don't stray from the party." Then he shook hands all around and bade them be careful once more. It gave Matt an odd feeling. They were acting as if they were preparing to explore a strange alien planet instead of Earth. * * * * * It was a queer homecoming in more ways than one, he reflected soberly.