He reconnoitered the place cautiously, keeping well under cover. The man-made yard was empty. There was no one outside the house or the rocket-ship hangar attached to it. He could see the blunt nose of Pubina's sleek craft in the otherwise deserted hangar. But they probably had guards posted at the windows. A long white line traced a curve in his path. Graff stepped over it gingerly, glancing to the left. Sure enough, hidden in thick bushes was the mass of white filaments that was the bulk of the sucking ivy. Touch the trigger-vine, however gently, with your foot.... He came back to the terry. "Listen, MacDuff," he said. "I want you to stay out of trouble as long as possible. When I need you, I'll need you bad. Meanwhile, on the wing or on the ground, you're a sucker for an electroblast with that wingspread. But you could be useful as a lookout. I wouldn't like to be outflanked." A grave nod of the narrow beak. "This I do." The reptile soared up in a high spiral over the house. Now. He had to get into the house across thirty-five feet of open ground, under the electroblasts of four highly proficient murderers. How? The headache returned, stronger than ever, and Graff swayed dizzily. Red roaring fires tore up and down his left side. He'd never make it. Swamp-bait, that's all he was, bait for the mud of the Black. He straightened then and laughed. Bait? Well, that was one way to hunt. The hunter strode toward the house, across the creeper of sucking ivy, counting each step. He stopped under cover of a sweeping fern just outside the sandy expanse. "Pubina!" he yelled. "I've come for the Bergensons." There was a flicker at one of the windows. "Who are you?" "Graff Dingle of New Kalamazoo. Listen, Pubina, I'll trade the rest of our lobodin for Greta Bergenson and her father." A pause while they digested this. Then: "Send one of your men in and we'll talk it over, Dingle." "Can't. I'm alone. Send one of your men out with the Bergensons, and I'll give you the lobodin." No reason for Pubina to be certain that the Bergenson lobodin represented the first and only shipment. And what he claimed to have would raise the quantity to the point where all of the outlaws could be vaccinated. The terry came down behind him and whispered gently: "Three men leave house from rear. Two coming around on left, one on right. Man on right has clearer fath, so will ve here first." Graff gestured assent with the electroblast. He heard the terry take off again. Pubina was being safe and cozy. Sending his henchmen while he held the fort himself! He heard a soggy clump to the right and grinned. Why, the man was making more noise than a dryhorn freshly arrived from Terra! When he saw the black waterproof jumper through the high weeds, he stepped out from under the fern and moved backwards. He held the electroblast out, as if it worked.