"A marvel, Master!" he jabbered. "Behold, a marvel! It was found by one of us in the sand-pits north of the city, captured and brought to you immediately. See, O Master, its height, its bulk, its strength." He stood aside and into the room a score of tugging natives hauled a bound and helpless creature. Bound and helpless creature? Bound ... yes. With yards upon yards of tightly laced metal cord which even now stretched taut over bulging sinews. Helpless ... perhaps. It stood quietly, struggling not, but in its very quiescence Factor Grossman found a swift, disturbing menace. It was still as flood-waters are still, ere, angered, they burst with fury the puny dams constraining them. It was motionless as powerful machines are motionless before, spurred to deed, they ravage all before them. A creature it was. But such a creature. Humanoid in form ... male ... but dull of eye as a brain-fogged idiot. It was seven feet tall and half as broad of shoulder, heavy of thigh and iron-strong of bicep. A Hercules, an Atlas of a man. Grossman stared at it strangely. Then he turned to his native visitors. "It is a marvel, yes. A great man. But what has it to do with me?" The spokesman cringed forward hopefully. "It has power, O Master. You promised us vengeance and freedom when we found you one with strength to fight our cause." Grossman's thick face mottled with disdain. "Fool!" he spat. "Do you call this creature power enough to wage a war? One halfwit giant against a well-armed garrison of humans? Take it away. This is not the power I asked for!" The Titanian inched another step forward. "Wait, O Master!" he advised. "Wait and see what we have seen! For not yet do you understand. He is still growing!" Grossman stared, his tiny, pig-like eyes bewildered. "Growing? This giant--growing?" "_Yes, Master. He is as yet a babe! This monster is less than two hours old...._" V The gunner said, "This yere now four-headed animule jest sorta wriggled its fur, like, an' presto! all of a sudden it ain't no beast a-tall, but a bird! Yessirree, jest as sure as I'm tellin' the gospel truth, it turned smack into a purple bird with six green wings an' a lavender tail--" He stopped and aimed an accurate stream of Venusian _mekel_-juice at a hapless insect. The insect floundered helplessly. So did Rocky Russell--inwardly--with his desire to laugh out loud. But he restrained himself, nodding his head sagely as he jotted a transcript of the old trooper's narrative in his little black notebook. At his side, Lynn Graham protested, "Oh, Gunner, but _really_! I mean you must be mistaken! Animals simply don't turn into birds and fly away--" "This un did!" swore Gunner solemnly. "Hope to drop dead in my--I mean, cross my heart! An' that ain't all the curious sights I seen in my life, neither. If the Puffessor would like to hear another little story--"