Whatever he might have said was never uttered. Out of the sky came the drone of a motor. "Gyro-gard!" Keeven exclaimed. He crouched like a cat-thing moving fluid under the shelter of the rock ledge. Heart hammering, Allyn leapt down beside him. Dry-throated, cramped, they heard the motor come closer, then fade away in the distance. "That was close," Allyn said as they came out of concealment. "The closest they've come yet. They're widening the area of search." He turned to the other. "Leave me quickly. I can only bring you disaster." It was Keeven's turn to be perplexed. "I confess I don't understand you. You are a Numan, but you are different. What do they call you, Numan?" "Allyn." "Allyn, you saved my life. For your good turn my people will shelter you now. When the chase dies down you can leave us." Live with the beast-men? Allyn started to decline but Keeven pointed out, "If you travel without me you will be hunted both by your people and mine." There was logic in his words. "All right," he agreed, "I will go to your people." * * * * * Their path lay upward into the somber outjutting hills. Keeven was a tireless traveler, but Allyn, with the endurance of the Numen, followed easily. The day paled, and shadows lengthened on the rocks when they came through a narrow path into the cup of hills where grass grew, and the land was fertile for crops. Several times Keeven stopped, and stood, as though listening. Once Allyn said impatiently: "I don't hear anything." "That's just it." Keeven's face was gray. "We don't hear anything." The words gave voice to his fear. He began to run. And Allyn ran behind him. Scrambling over boulders. Leaping over fallen stumps. Down they raced to the site of the village. No sound greeted them. And there was no hint of movement. At the first house Keeven braked to a halt. Doors were torn away from the wood shelters, as were the tanned skins over the mouths of the caves. All about, the grass was blackened with fire, and no crops would sprout this year in the deep burned earth. In anguish Keeven rushed from door to door, calling the names of people who had lived there. His voice keened higher with despair at each empty dwelling. Slowly Allyn followed. His own throat was tightening at the other's shock and grief. There were half prepared meals. In one hut a crude cradle swayed with the wind of their passing--empty.... The breeze flapped the skins, and a rude door creaked where it hung bound with rawhide to the lintel. Slowly the futility of calling struck Keeven. He turned. His hard face was drawn and bloodless. "Gone," he whispered. "Nothing. No one left." As though in mockery, a call sounded from the hills. They wheeled in shock, eyes to the rocks, straining against the dusk. A figure scrambled toward the blackened clearing. It was a girl! She ran to Keeven. Threw herself in his arms. "Keeven! Oh, Keeven, I thought I was the only one left!"