By accident Granger saw the aliens land, so with scientific curiosity he captured one of them. This incident made Earth the scene of a-- Stellar Vengeance By Frank Freeman [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy February 1955 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "You must realize," squealed the squat, ugly creature in the hastily constructed wooden cage, "that you're inviting certain destruction by holding me prisoner. I warn you, your time is short." Walt Granger stomped over to the enclosure and swung a heavy boot against one of the two-by-fours that stood like a crooked row of sentries. "That's my worry," he grunted. He had stumbled upon the whole business just two hours before, right in the middle of his part of the geoglogic survey that was going on in the rock strewn hills and gullies known on the maps as the Millsport Range. He had seen the ship the moment it left the ground, and a few yards from the burned circle of grass that was still smoldering from the rocket blast, there sat the fat little specimen of life from another world. Granger had caught the thing by surprise and had a rope around its middle before it could scamper into the brush. "My comrades will return for me," warned the thing, its yellowish eyes slowly and rhythmically protruding and withdrawing within their sockets. "They'll have no trouble finding you, and when they do...." "Shut up!" snapped Granger, pulling on his leather jacket. He turned to the cement fireplace and gave the embers a poke with a charred stick, looking around at the cage every few seconds as though he feared leaving his back turned for more than instant. He looked at his watch. Eight o'clock, and night was fast spreading a blanket of charcoal shadows over the hillsides. He'd wait till morning to move this crazy beast to the next camp six miles away. A night trip might entail chances he wasn't willing to take. After a couple of nervous fumbles with a match, he lit a cigarette and glanced uneasily out the one window in the rough cabin. What if the alien, or whatever it was, wasn't kidding about the danger he was in? What if his buddies did decide to come back before morning with the extermination of a human on their minds? Think of it, Granger, he told himself laconically, you'd be a hero! A nice, cold, dead one. And they'd never find the bunch who'd have knocked him off. He'd be one of those "mysterious deaths" the papers played up. "Free me immediately!" screeched the angry captive, his head swaying like a balloon on a stick. "You haven't much time left!" "You're a nasty tempered little imp, aren't you?" growled Granger as he strode across the room and peeked curiously inside the crate.