That left the plain, but out there they'd be spotted instantly, and picked up soon after. He couldn't afford to be questioned by anyone. He could hear the soldiers. They were getting closer. * * * * * The plain. They had to cross it and yet they couldn't. Unless--He turned to Gowru. "A fog," he said triumphantly. "All we need is another fog." His guide smiled with sorrowful dignity. "It takes whisky to make a good fog. If you had listened to me you would have brought a supply along. But alas, you are the reformer type, and because of that we are now caught." His head sunk forward in defeat. His chin touched his chest and at that his head snapped back and it was easy to see that he was not defeated. "Without whisky I can't make a fog," he admitted. "Do you know how many molecules are involved in even a medium-sized fog?" Rains didn't, but thought he ought to look impressed. "A surface now, even a relatively large surface, contains a comprehensible number of molecules," said Gowru. "My mind isn't sharp when I'm sober, but I can handle that many." "I don't see how--" But darkness interrupted his thoughts. "What is that?" asked Rains. "I put a surface around us. It has the shape of a tank." It was surprisingly sensible. There were two groups of soldiers approaching along the edge of the swamp, and they were in the middle. It was logical to assume that one group of soldiers would consider the so-called tank as belonging to the other. His eyes were adjusting to the changed light: he could see dimly through the outline that surrounded them. A hundred yards away a soldier appeared through the trees, saw the tank and stopped. Rains didn't like the way he fingered the rifle. "Can you move this thing?" he asked nervously. "Why not?" "Good. Let's get away from here." It weighed little more than nothing--as insubstantial as air. It was air, bound together on a molecular level by forces originating in the Hindu's mind. It moved out on the plain as fast as they could walk. "Halt!" a voice rang out from the edge of the swamp. "Let them try to stop us," whispered Gowru cheerfully. Again the voice commanded, but Gowru paid no attention. A rifle shot sounded behind them and a bullet whizzed uncomfortably close. "Maybe we'd better stop," suggested Rains. "A Chandit never surrenders," said his guide stubbornly. Abruptly the darkness around them deepened. Another rifle shot rang out. The bullet struck the tank shape, and glanced away. Air did that, or more correctly, the psi forces of his guide's mind. He had grossly underestimated the man. "How did you do that?" "Increased the thickness of the surface by a few molecules," said Gowru cheerfully. "Handy, if you know how." It was handy, but there were also disadvantages. No light at all entered and they couldn't see where they were going.