He heard a slithering in the plants behind them. They turned. Rusty saw three Bugs crawl into the dim light. Yellow horrors, they moved swiftly. Sharp feelers waving, they advanced like giant cockroaches. Others came behind them. They swarmed into the clearing. He turned to run. There was no fighting them. There was no running away--Bugs poured from all sides. Lord! must he die now? When a chance was so near? They were surrounded. He stood staring, the others behind him, weaponless. Rusty remembered one man he had seen after their work. He sickened at the picture. Blood was what they smelled, what they sought. Those feelers chopped at one's legs, severed the feet, hovered with sucking mouths about the face of the victim, still alive. The Bugs came on. One neared Rusty. A tendril knifed at him. He kicked madly into the yellow mass, felt the pulpy insect crush under the blow. The ground was a blanket of writhing yellow, spreading toward them. He hoped it would be quick. But it never was. One died slowly. The life sucked from him. Rusty kicked at another. The others were stamping wildly. "Into the ship!" yelled Spike. The tubes! They would be safe there. Rusty leaped a slashing wave as there was a rush for the ship. He went into the ochre, crawling things with one bound, into a drift-can with another. He clanged the port over him, heard the others slam shut. Rusty lay in the silent darkness, unable to move in the cramped cylinder. They would have to wait for the Bugs to leave. It might be days! The air was slowly becoming bad. He would have to open the port soon. He might be able to open it just a fraction, but those tendrils were thin, they might whip in. The place was stifling. His throat ached. There was bursting panic in his lungs. Suddenly he was pressed against the bottom of the tube by an invisible force. They were moving. But why? How? The Great Moon was not in position yet! They would miss it! He raised a hand to the port-lock. It would be better to jump. And the air--he could not breathe. He fumbled with the lock, could not open it. Weakly he clawed at the port. They would--drift--into--space.... Slowly, his mind relaxed into unconsciousness. * * * * * Rusty opened his eyes and breathed deeply of exquisite air. He saw green foliage above him. He was lying upon a verdant substance, soft and moist. It was very hot. His furs had been removed. "It's time you came to!" said a voice, and Rusty sat up, saw the rotund Earthian approaching. He glanced around, saw the drift-lube nearby, half-buried in the mud. The others were standing beside it, their odd appearance increased by the removal of their heavy clothing. They had made it. They had escaped! He was free! "What happened?" he asked, head dizzy.