"Careful now, giant!" It was Tork's voice coming in to him from beyond the radiance of the bars of purple light. Somehow Tork's sneering warning enraged Nixon. Was this a cage? A cage of light-fire in which these damnable little creatures thought they could hold the Earth-giant? He'd show them! Nixon's rage blurred his reason or he would have been more wary. With an oath that was thunder to the Orites, he hurled himself against the purple bars. The Orites' apprehensive cries mingled with a crackling, hissing shower of sparks. It was as though Nixon had struck something solid. He was aware of a shock, a resisting thrust, a repulsion that galvanized all his body as it hurled him backward. Enveloped by the spark-shower, with his clothes smouldering and his flesh burned, he fell writhing in the center of his purple cage. * * * * * Nixon barely clung to his senses. Then after a moment he knew that his head was clearing, that he was brushing his smouldering clothes frantically with his hands. Around him the radiance from the glowing purple bars was dazzling. But presently he could see between them, and see the crescent of blue sky overhead. Between two of the bars, in the six-inch vertical slit of space, an Orite figure appeared. It was Nona. She came carefully in and stood looking at him. "You are not too badly hurt?" she said anxiously. "You should not have tried that." "So they send _you_?" Nixon said bitterly. "What for? To get me ready for some new trickery?" Then Nixon saw that her father was behind her. "We understand your feelings," Frane said. "I would trust you, but you see I have not enough power here. I am only a man of science; I have nothing to do with the government. Not many of the Gorts will take orders from me." He seemed wholly sincere, so that Nixon smiled grimly. "All right. I think I _am_ beginning to understand." And Tork, who in rank was only Frane's assistant, seemed to have the confidence of those Government leaders. "The Gorts will come and bring you food and water," Nona said. "There will be five hundred Gorts just to be trained for your needs," Frane offered. "If they come now, you will not harm them so that they have to attack and kill you?" Whatever thoughts of wishful thinking Nixon had had that these little people could kill him, now certainly were dispelled. "Okay," Nixon agreed. "You have my promise. I won't hurt the Gorts." "Thank you," Frane said gravely. He turned away.... V