“Sure you have,” I said. “You lived on top of Mt. Everest during a two-week blizzard. You didn’t do that by yourself, not with all the supplies we dumped along with you. Who helped you, Jimmie boy?” I guess he knew there was no use trying to bluff. Or maybe he was anxious to get it off his mind. He said, “They’re intelligent, boss. They compressed air for me. They set up a little power pack to keep me warm. They set up the smoke signal when they spotted the airplane coming back.” “I see.” I didn’t want to rush him. “It’s like we thought. They’re adapted to Everest life. They can’t come down the slopes.” “No, they can’t. And we can’t go up the slopes. Even if the weather didn’t stop us, they would!” “They sound like kindly creatures, so why should they object? They helped _you_.” “They have nothing against us. They spoke to me, you know. Telepathy.” I frowned. “Well, then.” “But they don’t intend to be interfered with. They’re watching us, boss. They’ve got to. We’ve got atomic power. We’re about to have rocket ships. They’re worried about us. And Everest is the only place they can watch us from!” I frowned deeper. He was sweating and his hands were shaking. I said, “Easy, boy. Take it easy. What on Earth are these creatures?” And he said, “What do you suppose would be so adapted to thin air and subzero cold that Everest would be the only livable place on Earth to them? That’s the whole point. They’re nothing at all on Earth. They’re Martians.” And that’s it. Transcriber’s Note: This etext was produced from Universe Science Fiction, December 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Obvious errors in punctuation have been silently corrected in this version.