"That brush heap looks broken," Toal said. I walked in the direction that she pointed. A labyrinth of stone lay along the bank. Heat waves simmered over the ground, and my feet burned in spite of thick boot soles. I reached the brush. The dial of the sniffer lighted, and the needle turned to the right. "We're on!" I said. "There's more blood. He was still bleeding after running this far. He must be dead, after all. You stay there with the pentacycle, and--" "Had this argument yesterday," said Toal. "I'll bring part of the dynamite and go with you." Following the pointing needle, I tripped along through the brush. Dry sticks popped under my feet, and the creepers quickly reduced my oversuit legs to rags. The trail angled across a bend in the river and moved into the shade of a vinetree grove. At first, there was open space between the trees, so that we again reached the river without difficulty. Small holes dotted the dirt beneath an overhanging rock. Toothies swarmed in and out of the burrows and squeaked excitedly. "Some dynalene might help here," I said. "These things will eat this peninsula bare some day." "Dynamite," Toal said. "Let them." The sniffer led us deeper into the vine grove. The round, fringed leaves meshed into a roof that stopped the sunlight and left us walking in a sickly, greenish gloom. Abruptly, the leaves closed down to the earth, forming a rough wall of vegetation across the woods. The mouth of a tunnel opened in the mass. Toal whispered, "The Hog goes to the swamp through there. We set traps at other tunnels. He always avoided them. It's black as a cave inside." The sniffer pointed directly to the tunnel. Cloven hoofs had indented the ground. I said, "You go back, and--" "No! I'll throw dynamite." "All right. Be careful where you throw it." I grinned sickly. "Is there any way around these vines?" "Could circle to cleared ground. Would only lead to the swamp. Can't walk in the swamp." I put the sniffer in my pack and clipped the light to my belt. I tiptoed into the tunnel. Toal followed. The ground was slippery underfoot, and the amount of light filtering through the massed leaves swiftly lessened. The tunnel curved gently from side to side. One hundred meters from the entrance, I could not see and turned on the light. The Hog grunted. The ground vibrated. Raising the heavy firearm to my shoulder, I waited. "Keenlogh!" the Hog squealed. The sound of his breathing reached me. The oily stench of him came through the tunnel. Pausing between each step to listen, I moved forward. The tunnel twisted sharply and then branched. Each branch again divided. The Hog grunted, "Huh, huh, huh, huh!" I moved to the right toward the sound. Down the leafy corridor, a red spot glittered. It blinked from sight before I could aim. I reached another branch in the tunnel, and my light chose that moment to go out. I stood in total darkness, remembering that I had failed to install a new generator.