FORGOTTEN DANGER BY WILLIAM MORRISON ILLUSTRATED BY FREAS Crusoe could remember only one thing--that somewhere near some deadly danger threatened him! He had no way of knowing what it was, or why he was in the swamp. Then he found he could work miracles! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine, February 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He had a feeling that there was something he had to remember, something urgent, something that had to do with danger. But it was hard to think of it, it was hard to think at all. There was a dullness in his head as if he had been too long asleep. And now that he had awakened at last, he did not know for the moment where he was. He would realize, of course, once he shook himself and straightened out his mind. But so far he did not know. Nothing was familiar. It was dark, and in the background he saw the silhouettes of bushes, a bridge, trees. Closer at hand there was a fire over which a large pot was boiling. Around the fire were four men in ragged clothes. As the firelight flickered over their faces, casting weird lights upon the battered features, he studied them carefully. He knew none of them. * * * * * One was a big subtly mis-shapen bull of a man with a three days' beard. There was power in the set of his shoulders, in his easy slouch as, with narrowed eyes, he stirred the contents of the pot. Another was small, with a pointed beard and a shining bald head. The first one, he gathered from their conversation, was called Angel, the second, Professor. The other two were of more moderate size. He saw that their faces assumed strange colors in the light of the leaping flames. He could not, no matter how hard he tried, gather what their names were. But he knew that names didn't matter. The thing that mattered was the danger that somehow threatened and that he couldn't remember. Angel lifted something out of the pot with a long spoon, said curtly, "Stuff's ready," and began to ladle out the steaming mixture. The men moved toward him with their large tin cups, and then moved back to eat. The largest portion of all Angel kept for himself. The next largest he brought to the sitting man, stumbling as he did so over a root that tangled his shoe. But he caught himself before he had spilled the contents of the cup and said, "Here y'are, Crusoe." Crusoe. A strange name. Not his at all. But he said automatically, "Thank you." * * * * * Angel had lifted a spoonful of the stew to his own mouth. Now he gulped it down hastily and said, "Hey fellows, he sounds like he came out of it."