Yet on the other hand, he alone had been spared death. And he had come upon a world, one perhaps in millions, which had an atmosphere capable of supporting human life. A sudden high-pitched drone broke the silence. Rising up from behind a pile of boulders a hideous winged shape shot toward him! Half bird, half saurian, the thing's head was enormous with an inflated cobra hood. Even as the creature closed in with incredible speed, Standish wheeled and ran for the safety of the wrecked space ship. He reached it and wormed his way through a gaping rent in the hull. The lizard-bird stopped short a few yards from the ship to stare perplexedly. Then with its queer droning cry still sounding, it zoomed into the air and flew out of sight. "_Holy Hell!_" Standish inhaled deeply. Dangers here were imminent. He must take steps to protect himself at once. Although the liner lay on one side with the three entrances and emergency airlock underneath, the hole through which he had entered was the only opening. The hull bottom had been crushed by the great impact. Yet the glassite ports and vision shield of the pilot cuddy were unbroken. Standish crawled back along the passage to the officers' quarters. On the well of one of the cabins he found two genithode pistols and a portable ray gun. He realized then that his first move toward self preservation lay in making the space ship livable and impregnable to outside attack. He accomplished the latter by removing two bulkhead doors and jamming them across the opening in the hull. The last door he arranged on a swivel so that it could be locked from either side. Then, exhausted by the hours of activity, he fell asleep. * * * * * When he awoke and went outside, he saw that the two suns had exactly altered their position. The larger was at the zenith now; the smaller, low on the horizon. The temperature was unchanged, and the air was crystal clear, with only a few fleecy clouds floating overhead. Standish ate a hearty breakfast, then strapped one genithode pistol about his waist and headed across the ravine to begin his first trip of exploration. The moment he entered the jungle he was conscious of an electric something that passed before him, telegraphed from tree to tree. The strange plants, neither cyads nor conifers, seemed aware of his presence, whispering among themselves. Experimentally he touched one of the trunks. It quivered, the bark split apart, and a spongy tentacle whipped out to drive straight at his throat. Standish escaped the clawing coil by inches. The tree quivered again, and the tentacle returned to its hiding place.