They reached the tundra and Chuck Evers' voice hailed them from close by. He sat near the tiny fire, the taped foot and ankle eased on a pack-sack before him. "Well," said Evers, "you took your time." "I fell in a crevasse," John Drinkard said, "and I owe you five bucks." "You should put the more important statement first, but we can take that up later. I see we have company." "I'm sorry." His rescue from the crevasse and the little trek back across the glacier had been like something from a dream to John Drinkard. But now, with the familiar figure of Chuck across the fire, things suddenly assumed their proper proportions again. He faced his guide, who stood silently by. "This is Chuck Evers. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name." The man's thin face showed palely from the peaked hood that covered his head and disappeared into the bulky collar of his stout, steel-smooth jacket. "I am called Dzell," he said quietly. The two men stared at him, and he returned their looks with composure. "It's different, anyway," said Chuck finally. "Yes," agreed the man. "That is because I am different." "He can read your head like a crystal ball and light up like a neon sign," John Drinkard heard himself babbling. Evers, though he sensed the strangeness of the situation, turned to Drinkard with concern. "Easy, boy," he said soothingly. "You've slipped on the ice before. Sit down and let's quit being funny." The stranger smiled, but his curving lips seemed more a studied imitation than any indication of mirth. "Let us all sit and I will tell you why I am Dzell. I will do it because I know, when you repeat my words, that you will not be believed." Evers started to speak, thought better of it, and closed his mouth with an exaggerated snap of teeth. John Drinkard sat wearily on the soft tundra vegetation. "You came up to climb the peak," said the man Dzell, "but also you came to see what caused the lights. If you had not had misfortune, you would have climbed the peak, but there would have been no lights." * * * * * He glanced away, up and across the rocky ride and to the upper reaches of the glacier. A dull red glow moved down the route he and John Drinkard had recently taken. Keen eyes could readily see that it had the shape of a man. "That is Dzorr," said Dzell. "We grew in the same membrane. He is erasing our trail across the ice, John Drinkard." Drinkard watched the glow until it slowly faded. "Very smart. We can tell tales, but there won't be any proof, eh?" "That is correct," said the strange man. He turned to Chuck Evers. "You wonder about the statement that we grew in the same membrane. I should have said that we are twins." Evers caught his breath. "Telepathy," he breathed. "John wasn't out of his head." The chill night wind rippled across the alpine field. The little fire flickered and glowed. Overhead, the stars were blue and red and yellow ice.