Like a fly buzzing in my ears, a voice comes, faint, far off, "Halloway, damn it, Halloway, where are you?" Captain! It's his voice, sizzling. I don't see you, sir! "Halloway, we're on the dead sea bottom near an ancient Martian city and--oh, never mind, dammit, if you hear me, press your boy-scout badge and yell!" I press the badge intensely, sweating. Hey, captain! "Halloway! Glory. You're _not_ dead. Where are you?" I stopped for popcorn, sir. I can't see you. How do I hear you? "It's an echo. Let it go. If you're okay, grab the next street-car." That's very opportune. Because here comes a big red street-car now, around the corner of the drug store. "_What!_" Yes, sir, and its chock full of people. I'll climb aboard. "Wait a minute! Hold on! Murder! What _kind_ of people, dammit?" It's the West Side gang. Sure. The whole bunch of tough kids. "West side gang, hell, those are Martians, get the hell outa there! Transfer to another car--take the subway! Take the elevated!" Too late. The car's stopped. I'll have to get on. The conductor looks impatient. "Impatient," he says. "You'll be massacred!" Oh, oh. Everybody's climbing from the street-car, looking angry at me. Kelly and Grogan and Tompkins and the others. I guess there'll be a fight. The captain's voice stabs my ears, but I don't see him anywhere: "Use your r-gun, your blaster, your blaster. Hell, use your slingshot, or throw spitballs, or whatever the devil you imagine you got holstered there, but _use_ it! Come on, men, about face and back!" I'm outnumbered. I bet they'll gang me and give me the bumps, the bumps, the bumps. I bet they'll truss me to a maple tree, maple tree, maple tree and tickle me. I bet they'll ink-tattoo their initials on my forehead. Mother won't like this. The captain's voice opens up louder, driving nearer: "And Poppa ain't happy! Get outa there, Halloway!" They're hitting me, sir! We're battling! "Keep it up, Halloway!" I knocked one down, sir, with an upper-cut. I'm knocking another down now. Here goes a third! Someone's grabbed my ankle. I'll kick him! _There!_ I'm stumbling, falling! Lights in my eyes, purple ones, big purple lightning bolts sizzling the air! Three of them vanished, just like that! I think they fell down a manhole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt them bad. They stole my flashlight. "Get it back, Halloway! We're coming. Get your flash and use it!" That's silly. "Silly," he says. "Silly. Silly." * * * * * I got my flashlight back, broken, no good. We're wrestling. There are so many of them, I'm weak. They're climbing all over me, hitting. It's not fair, I'm falling down, kicking, screaming! "Up speed, men, full power!" They're binding me up. I can't move. They're rushing me into the street-car now. Now I won't be able to go on that hike. And I planned on it so hard, too. "_Here we are, Halloway! Blast 'em, men! Oh, my Lord, look at the horrible faces on those creatures! Guh!_"