But the example of his friends had taught him above all else to carry out every purpose. Molly was a nurse; she had raised him despite all obstacles. The soldiers were guards; they protected the ruins against everything larger than a rat. The firefighter had put even _him_ out when he was aflame.... Anyhow, the manhole cover had been loosened by his frequent handling. He lifted it aside by main strength, then flattened himself to the street, and felt with his feet for the top rung. Halfway down the iron ladder, something made him pause. He looked, but saw only blackness. He listened, sniffed, found nothing. What could have entered through the iron cover? He sneered at his own timidity and jumped to the bottom. It was warm! The dry bottom of the hole had the temperature of body heat, as if a large animal had recently rested there! * * * * * Quickly, Roddie drew the hammer from his waist. Then, with weapon ready for an instantaneous blow, he stretched his left hand through the darkness. He touched something warm, softish. Gingerly he felt over that curving surface for identifying features. While Roddie investigated by touch, his long fingers were suddenly seized and bitten. At the same time, his right shin received a savage kick. And his own retaliatory blow was checked in mid-swing by an unexpected voice. "Get your filthy hands off me!" it whispered angrily. "Who do you think you are?" Startled, he dropped his hammer. "I'm Roddie," he said, squatting to fumble for it. "Who do you think _you_ are?" "I'm Ida, naturally! Just how many girls _are_ there in this raiding party?" His first Invader--and he had dropped his weapon! Scrabbling fearfully in the dust for his hammer, Roddie paused suddenly. This girl--whatever _that_ was--seemed to think him one of her own kind. There was a chance, not much, but worth taking, to turn delay to advantage. Maybe he could learn something of value before he killed her. That would make the soldiers accept him! He stalled, seeking a gambit. "How would _I_ know how many girls there are?" Half expecting a blow, he got instead an apology. "I'm sorry," the girl said. "I should have known. Never even heard your name before, either. Roddie.... Whose boat did you come in, Roddie?" Boat? What was a boat? "How would I know?" he repeated, voice tight with fear of discovery. If she noticed the tension, she didn't show it. Certainly her whisper was friendly enough. "Oh, you're one of the fellows from Bodega, then. They shoved a boy into our boat at the last minute, too. Tough, wasn't it, getting separated in the fog and tide like that? If only we didn't have to use boats.... But, say, how are we going to get away from here?" "I wouldn't know," Roddie said, closing his fingers on the hammer, and rising. "How did you get in?" "Followed your footprints. It was sundown and I saw human tracks in the dust and they led me here. Where were you?"