But there was disaster here. Calhoun saw it before the girl could. There were beds of leaves underneath the shelters. There were three bodies lying upon them. They would be those refugees in the terminal coma which--since the girl had described it--accounted for the dead man Calhoun had found, dead of starvation with food-plants all around him. But now Calhoun saw something more. He swung the girl swiftly in his arms so that she would not see. He put her gently down and said: "Stay still. Don't move. Don't turn." * * * * * He went to make sure. A moment later he raged. Because it was Calhoun's profession to combat death and illness in all its forms. He took his profession seriously. And there are defeats, of course, which a medical man has to accept, though unwillingly. But nobody in the profession, and least of all a Med Ship man, could fail to be roused to fury by the sight of people who should have been his patients, lying utterly still with their throats cut. He covered them with branches. He went back to Helen. "This place has been found by somebody from the city," he told her harshly. "The men in coma have been murdered. I advise you not to look. At a guess, whoever did it is now trying to track down the rest of you." He went grimly to the small open glade, searching the ground for footprints. There was ground-cover at most places, but at the edge of the clearing he found one set of heavy footprints going away. He put his own foot beside a print and rested his weight on it. His foot made a lesser depression. The other print had been made by a man weighing more than Calhoun. Therefore it was not one of the party of plague-victims. He found another set of such footprints, entering the glade from another spot. "One man only," he said icily. "He won't think he has to be on guard, because a city's administrative personnel--such as were left behind for the plague to hit--doesn't usually have weapons among their possessions. And he's confident that all of you are weak enough not to be dangerous to him." Helen did not turn pale. She was pale before. She stared numbly at Calhoun. He looked grimly at the sky. "It'll be sunset within the hour," he said savagely. "If it's the intention of the newcomers ... the invaders to burn the bodies of all plague victims, he'll come back here to dispose of these three. He didn't do it before lest the smoke warn the rest of you. But he knows the shelters held more than three people. He'll be back!" Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a bewildered fashion. He was on all fours, and he regarded his paws as if they did not belong to him. He panted. Calhoun checked him over. Respiration way up. Heart-action like that of the girl Helen. His temperature was not up, but down. Calhoun said remorsefully: "You and I, Murgatroyd, have a bad time of it in our profession. But mine is the worse. You don't have to play dirty tricks on me, and I've had to, on you!"