"Nothing on the radio," Elmer said. "If he was just scouting us out, he'd report to his base. But if his orders are to clobber us, then he wouldn't put it on the air." The plane was turning in the sky, coming back. Cliff argued, "Well, we can't fire unless we know if he's just hunting us out, or trying to do us in." Elmer said patiently, "For just finding us, that first pass would be all he needed. He could radio back that he'd found us. But if he comes in again, he's looking for trouble." "Here he comes!" Bey yelled. "Kenny-Cliff ... the rifle!" Isobel suddenly dashed out into the sands a dozen yards or so from the vehicles and began running around and around in a circle as though demented. Bey stared at her. "Get back here," he roared. "Under one of the trucks!" She ignored him. The rocket-plane was coming in, low and obviously as slow as the pilot could retard its speed. The flac rifle began jumping and tracers reached out from it--inaccurately. The Tommy-Noiseless automatics in the hands of Bey and Elmer Allen gave their silenced _flic flic flic_ sounds, equally ineffective. On the ultra-stubby wings of the fast moving aircraft, a row of brilliant cherries flickered and a row of explosive shells plowed across the desert, digging twin ditches, miraculously going between the air cushion lorries but missing both. It was upon them, over and gone, before the men on the ground could turn to fire after. Elmer Allen muttered an obscenity under his breath. Cliff Jackson looked around in desperation. "What can we do now? He won't come close enough for us to even fire at him, next time." Bey said nothing. Isobel had collapsed into the sand. Elmer Allen looked over at her. "Nice try, Isobel," he said. "I think he came in lower and slower than he would have otherwise--trying to see what the devil it was you were doing." She shrugged, hopelessly. "Hey!" Kenny Ballalou pointed. The rocketcraft was wobbling, shuddering, in the sky. Suddenly it burst into a black cloud of fire and smoke and explosion. At the same moment, Homer Crawford got up from the sand dune behind which he'd stationed himself and plowed awkwardly through the sand toward them. Bey glared at him. Homer shrugged and said, "I checked the way he came in the first time and figured he'd repeat the run. Then I got behind that dune there and faced in the other direction and started firing where I _thought_ he'd be, a few seconds before he came over. He evidently ran right into it." Bey said indignantly, "Look, wise guy, you're no longer the leader of a five-man Reunited Nations African Development Project team. Then, you were expendable. Now, you're El Hassan. You give the orders. Other people are expendable." Homer Crawford grinned at him, somewhat ruefully and held up his hands as though in supplication. "Listen to the man, is that any way to talk to El Hassan?" Elmer Allen said worriedly, "He's right, though, Homer. You shouldn't take chances."