"Well," said Makvern grimly, "let's get them up and out of here." * * * * * Wyatt heaved No-Name onto his shoulders and Burdick carried Whitfield, his long legs dragging. They left Thurne where he was, with his own people. Burdened and staggering, they started out the door. And now Brinna said, "You'd better give me a weapon." Makvern shook his head. "I don't see what you're afraid of," she said. "I know you won't kill me and I know Varsek would. He wouldn't believe any story I could tell him now." Makvern hesitated and then said, "All right. Take one of theirs." She picked up a stunner and they all went out together, cautiously, into the bright sun. Here they were near one corner of a broad square. A globe was marching toward them on its jointed stilt-legs, coming up the street to their right, with men on foot following behind it. There were overturned cannon and fallen men near the corner, where the beams had hit, and other men were running away across the square, their faces wild with fury and fear and helplessness. Makvern pointed to the mouth of a street diagonally across from them. "Make for that. Our ships should not be far beyond here now, if--" Wyatt thought he was going to say _if the Second Party has been successful_. But he didn't. It was hardly worth bringing that up, not now. They ran out across the square, heavy and slow with their burdens. Once again they were lucky. They made the transit past the corner before the men in the globe could fire at them, and then the buildings protected them. A haze of dust and smoke hung in the air. The queer high-piled towers and the crowded masses of carving seemed to waver like things seen through water. The gods and goddesses almost seemed to move, dancing and smiling with fierce, grotesque dignity. Some of the Alpha Centaurians who had been running away saw them and turned back. They had weapons like very primitive pistols, and they had long sharp knives. The ones with pistols paused to load them. The others charged. And from the street behind came the measured clanging tread of the globe. Wyatt fired. Nobody stopped running, they didn't dare to, because the globe was a worse enemy than these furry men. They fired as they went and some of the Alpha Centaurians fell under the stun rays and the rest turned back, waiting for the others who were loading their pistols. Wyatt panted and labored on under the weight of the Apache. The mouth of the street was not far away now. Brinna and those of the men who were not burdened had lagged behind to cover the others. Their stunners crackled. Another one or two of the furry men went down, and then there was a series of sharper crackling sounds and one of the officers stopped and looked down in astonishment at the hole in his middle, from which blood had begun to flow. A ball hit close to Wyatt's feet and skipped away over the stones. Others rattled off the walls.