Garth nodded. "It's on the beam. Yeah. It'll take you a week to get out of the Forest, and you won't last that long, even if you force me to guide you. I don't think you can do that, anyway. But even if you did--within three days you'll be like the Captain. Walking dead men! You'll be okay at night, but you can't travel at night. By day you'll be living statues, sitting in the Forest waiting for the bloodsucker plants to come along and drain your blood, waiting for the poisonous butterflies to paralyze you and lay their eggs under your skin, waiting--you've seen what sort of things live in the Forest. Every day you'll be helpless. You can't run. Some night you'll wake up with your legs chewed off, or the butterfly maggots eating you alive. Like that? Well, that's what you'll get--and I'm the _only_ guy that can save you!" * * * * * The faces of the men told Garth that his shots had gone home. The deadly menace of the forest, lurking always in the background, had worked into their nerves. Sampson's big hands clenched. "Damn you!" he snarled. "You can't--" Garth went on quickly. "I'm handing this to you straight. We're in a spot, sure, but we can get out of it. I can make more antitoxin, but it'll take a while. I can't do it while we're traveling. I need equipment. Here's what I'm proposing--we all keep going, the way we started. I'm immune to the pollen. If we move fast, we'll reach the lost city, or whatever it is, before you go under. Then I can start making antitoxin. We'll have to trap some small animals and allow time for incubation. But I'll be able to make fresh shots and neutralize the Noctoli pollen." "It's too long a shot," Sampson said. "Okay," Garth told him. "Suit yourself. Play it my way, or commit suicide." He turned and walked toward Paula, who had not moved from Brown's side. Her eyes were steady on his. "Thanks. That was nice going--plenty nice, if you pull it off." "It's suicide either way," Garth grunted. He began packing Brown's kit and his own. Footsteps sounded. Garth didn't turn. He heard Sampson's deep voice, hoarse with repressed fear and rage. "We're playing it your way, Garth. God help you if you make any boners!" Sudden relief weakened Garth. He tried not to show it, though he realized that his hands were trembling. "Fair enough," he said. "We'll march in ten minutes. Get the men ready." Sampson muttered something and retreated. Garth slipped the pack on Brown's shoulders. The Captain, looking blankly ahead, didn't seem to notice. "Keep your eye on him," Garth told Paula. "He'll be between us. He'll keep marching till we tell him to stop. See?" She nodded, moistening her lips. "Y-yes. Is--that--going to happen to all of us?" Garth said nothing. There wasn't anything to say.