"In truth, they have no eyes, but my father once told me of the manner in which they find their way about. When afoot, they send out squeals, imperceptible to our ears, which come back to them from the obstacles and pitfalls they would avoid and thus guide them to an open path. "Never, since that far day in the past, have others of their kind come to plague this world. It is my belief that the Beast People's sky-monster rebelled against them and carried them far away from their goal, wherever it may have been. For that, their brothers who searched--if search they did--could not find their spoor and perforce gave them up for lost. "There is more to their history, but it is not for your ears. Methinks, it could well be that you are one of the Beast People; for surely those of the home world have changed in the many tens of years since these few of their kind were stranded here." Old One paused to glance quizzically at Gene. His bewrinkled old forehead drew tightly together as he studied the wiry biologist. "Whence come you?" he asked sharply. "If from the world beyond worlds, then truly you are a Beast Man. If from a world that is sister to this sphere of rock, then does my tribe welcome you and call you brother. May your tongue speak truth, man of the skies." All in the cave were tense, silent--waiting for the man's answer. Gene took a step nearer Old One's bench, calm and confident. A world beyond worlds would imply a planet of another system; thus, being from a planet akin to this upon which he had been cast, he spoke without apprehension: "I name myself Gene Drummond, and I come from Earth--the third world nearest the sun." He looked about, expecting the tribesmen to loose shouts of welcome; but the grim silence only became more forbidding and the people drew back, as if from a leper. Gene leaped forward. "Old One!" he cried in the aged man's face. "Explain to them that I am not of the Beast People. I am an Earthling; your brother!" There was infinite sadness in Old One's gaze. "Nay," he said somberly, "you are not of the Beast People, and no more so are you our brother. By the gods, you are of a race a thousandfold more loathsome than the Beast People!" III Gene sat dejectedly at the mouth of his cave, dully staring out at the black sameness of the destitute valley. Two stalwart Wronged Ones, as Kac had termed his tribe, stood at the opening, watching the man with troubled eyes. Thus had it been for the past week, since the day Old One had pronounced those dread words condemning Gene and all like him. True, he was allowed to roam the cave city and observe the ways of the tribe, but always the guards were with him.