"Not to me. To Gunn. Little Tilford Gunn. Gone. That--that damned black beast killed him with his blue color. Right in front of my eyes. It's going to take all of us to lick him. That's why I came back." "What are you babbling about?" said Emerson softly. "Take your time, man. What blue color?" "In the big room up the corridor. There's a deep roar and splashes of this deep light, as dark as a sapphire. Caught him, it did. Melted him into nothing at all. I--I can't forget it." He unsnapped the last buckle and stood silent as Emerson got up and stretched. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. He said suddenly, "We might as well get out of here while we can. If that thing wants to experiment on us any more--the hell with him. Let's go, and fast." Emerson was freeing Nichols, smiling thinly, "What about your fortune, Mussdorf? What about being a boss on Mars?" Mussdorf licked his lips, whispering, "Hell with that. I just want to get away from here, that's all. That black thing has power we've never seen, never dreamed of. I tell you, those blue bands--" Mussdorf swore. Emerson whirled, reaching for his solar gun. Irgi stood in the doorway, brooding at them. Almost he seemed to shake his vast head, sadly. "Stop him, one of you," babbled Mussdorf, striving to get past them. "Maybe one of us can get away." The thing stretched out his tentacles so swiftly that Emerson rasped curses as his gun-arm was clapped and held tight against his side. Nichols writhed beside him in another viselike arm. Mussdorf had fainted. Looking down at him, Emerson smiled thinly, and said to Nichols, "Whatever happened to Gunn must have been pretty bad. They told me at New Mars that Karl Mussdorf was pretty tough." "Yeah," whispered Nichols. Emerson looked up at the thing, studying it, thinking: maybe I can get it to listen to me. Maybe it will even let us go free if I can communicate with it. "What're you going to do with us?" he questioned as calmly as he could. The thing looked at him, and the thin mouth moved, but Valentine Emerson heard no sound. The thing shook his head again, sadly. * * * * * He could not make these beings understand that he was helping them, Irgi realized. They cannot hear my voice because it is pitched lower than their ears can detect. And even if they heard me, they would not understand. I shall cure them of the growth disease. By that act, they will know I am friendly. Time enough then to discuss other matters. Matters like the building of a great statue to him, Irgi, greatest of the Urg. He carried them into the Chamber of the Cones; set them down gently. The large one with the black hair and the shaggy brows was screaming something. He was undergoing an emotion: anger. And fright, too. Yes, the black haired one was frightened. More frightened than he was angry. Irgi watched him curiously. He must have seen the little one blasted when the Cones were pulsing.