The men panicked, trying to get away from the snakes. Drake pulled out his revolver and dropped to one knee, ignoring the hornets that buzzed around him, trying to draw a bead on the slender serpentine targets in the swaying yellow light. Thunder roared directly overhead. A long flash of lightning suddenly flooded the room, spoiling his aim. Drake fired and missed, and waited for the snakes to strike. They didn't strike. They were moving away from him, retreating to the rat hole from which they had emerged. One of the adders slid quickly through. The other began to follow, then stopped, half in the hole. Sorensen took careful aim with a rifle. Drake pushed the muzzle aside. "Wait just a moment." The adder hesitated. It came out of the hole and began to move toward them again.... And there was another crash of thunder and a vivid splash of lightning. The snake turned away and squirmed through the hole. "What's going on?" Sorensen asked. "Is the thunder frightening them?" "No, it's the lightning!" Drake said. "That's why the Quedak was in such a rush. He saw that a storm was coming, and he hadn't consolidated his position yet." "What are you talking about?" "The lightning," Drake said. "The electrical storm! It's jamming that radio control of his! And when he's jammed, the beasts revert to normal behavior. It takes him time to re-establish control." "The storm won't last forever," Cable said. "But maybe it'll last long enough," Drake said. He picked up the direction finders and handed one to Sorensen. "Come on, Bill. We'll hunt out that bug right now." "Hey," Recetich said, "isn't there something I can do?" "You can start swimming if we don't come back in an hour," Drake said. * * * * * In slanting lines the rain drove down, pushed by the wild southwest wind. Thunder rolled continually and each flash of lightning seemed aimed at them. Drake and Sorensen reached the edge of the jungle and stopped. "We'll separate here," Drake said. "Gives us a better chance of converging on him." "Right," Sorensen said. "Take care of yourself, Dan." Sorensen plunged into the jungle. Drake trotted fifty yards down the fringe and then entered the bush. He pushed forward, the revolver in his belt, the radio direction finder in one hand, a flashlight in the other. The jungle seemed to be animated by a vicious life of its own, almost as if the Quedak controlled it. Vines curled cunningly around his ankles and the bushes reached out thorny hands toward him. Every branch took a special delight in slapping his face. Each time the lightning flashed, Drake's direction finder tried to home on it. He was having a difficult time staying on course. But, he reminded himself, the Quedak was undoubtedly having an even more difficult time. Between flashes, he was able to set a course. The further he penetrated into the jungle, the stronger the signal became.