"I loathe you," growled the thing. "I have no intentions of deceiving you. This whole situation is simply a matter of pure logic so far as your plight is concerned." "You're forgetting," said Granger, his voice lacking a certain amount of its previous confidence, "that you're the one who's in a mess." "Only temporarily, you fool!" raved the creature, jumping frantically up and down. "Look!" he screamed, pointing a tiny hand toward the window over Granger's left shoulder. The geologist gasped as he shot a quick glance in the direction of the thing's outstretched arm. A pale green light had turned the surrounding land and sky into an eerie dawn that extended its weird phosphorescence into the cabin itself. And two hundred yards from the cabin, in a small area relatively clear of major obstructions, was the same ship he had seen a few hours before. "They're here!" shouted the alien. "Let me out!" Granger slammed shut the door and lifted a massive oak bar into iron brackets on either side. Then he was at the window again. A hatch near the bottom of the craft was open, but there was no sign of movement. * * * * * Then he saw one of them, an exact duplicate of his captive, running from bush to bush about fifty feet from the ship. A few steps behind him was another. Two more nearby scrambled over an immense boulder and scurried into the brush. Another five were emerging, like a patrol of midgets, from a ravine to the north of the cabin. "Be sensible, you idiot!" snarled the thing in the crate. "I'm giving you this final chance. Unlock this contrivance, and all will be well with you. I'll speak on your behalf." "So you can lead your buddies right back here? Sure," said Granger, "that's all I'd have to do to finish myself off in a real hurry." "Do as I say!" yelled the alien. "For your own sake!" "Look," panted Granger, "I know I was crazy to fool with you in the first place, but now that you're here and they're outside, you're staying, see?" He reached under the lumpy pile of cotton that served as a mattress and pulled out his .30-30 rifle. Little Boy Blue and his pop gun, he thought. He grabbed a handful of cartridges from a box under the bed and began jamming them into the magazine. "That will be of no use, my friend," droned a hollow voice behind him. Granger spun himself around just as a pane of glass in the window flew to pieces under the impact of a short, shiny gun barrel. A perfect reproduction of the face of the creature in the cage centered itself in the jagged frame of the broken window and gave him the shadow of a smile that was closer to a victorious leer. "Put down your weapon," the newcomer ordered coldly. Get that rifle up fast, Granger commanded himself. "I repeat," said the face at the window. "Lower your weapon."