Pushing his package under one arm, Al-fin raised the other and pointed at the sky. Bringing his arm around in a wide half-circle, he made a sound with his lips like an Earth bumblebee. When he reached the end of the half-circle he held a finger out in a long point. He ended the performance by holding his hand out toward the spaceship and making a scooping motion--as though he were throwing it into the air. Three times he repeated the maneuver. Wallace watched him in puzzled silence. At the end of the third repetition his eyes widened with slowly dawning understanding. He ran for the portal of the ship. "I'll be right back," he tossed over his shoulder. Inside he glanced quickly at the s-tracer. Its needles indicated that the bloodhound was directly across the planet from them! He dashed back to the open portal. "Inside! Quick!" he called to Saxton. Saxton wasted not a minute in obeying. As he pushed past Wallace, Al-fin came to the portal of the ship. He extended the parcel he had been carrying under his arm to Wallace. "Meat," he said. "Bye." "Thanks," Wallace answered, taking the gift. "Thanks--for everything." He closed the portal quickly. * * * * * Three hours later they were in hyperspace. Another five minutes and they were in the Ten Thousand Worlds portion of the galaxy--and safe. Saxton turned over on his side. He had made a faster recovery from the nausea of the bridge than usual. "Okay," he said to Wallace. "Give." Wallace smiled. "Perhaps we'd better open Al-fin's gift first," he said, deliberately teasing Saxton with his procrastination. He unwrapped the several large leaves from the package on the table. Inside was a man's fat arm--with a long scar running from shoulder joint to elbow! * * * * * Saxton groaned and dashed for the lavatory. This time he was sicker than he'd been during the jump. When he turned, streaks of pale green showed through the duskiness of his cheeks. "They're cannibals," he whispered. "I wouldn't hold that against them," Wallace said. "It might have been one of the necessities of their survival." "I suppose so." Saxton turned intently to Wallace. "This much I got," he said. "When Al-fin said 'Bye,' I figured that he was telling us to get out. But how did he know that it would be safe--and how did you know enough to trust him?" "I can't take too much credit," Wallace said. "Just all at once everything clicked together--at the exact moment I understood that Al-fin was trying to tell us to leave. You remember we decided that their survival characteristic would probably be something inherent in all of us, but not developed--or at least not to the extent that an isolated colony of humans would need here?" Saxton nodded. "Well, I'm convinced that the answer is intuition." "Intuition?"