He had not known what to expect--Xintel had told him only that the Place Of Change was irreparably ruined--but certainly nothing so bleak and disheartening. There was nothing but mud within the great building. Whatever machinery or equipment had been used to change the Venusians to water-breathers had vanished without a trace. Barry's shoulders sagged as he turned back toward the window. But then the engineering training of his years on Earth reasserted itself, and he wondered of what material the building had been constructed to withstand the ravages of the savage environment of the Venus. With the flat of one hand he brushed at the greenish, clinging slime that covered the walls. Etched into the wall were strange symbols arranged in an orderly fashion. Writing, obviously done by the Ancients. It was possible that the inscriptions included the technical data on which the Place had been based. He ran to another section of wall and wiped at it, then at random to a third spot. More writing. It meant nothing to him, but in the colony there were specialists who might-- His chest began to burn, bringing his mind back to his present situation. There was nothing he could do for the present, and he must warn the colony. There was no telling how far Komso's plans had progressed. Perhaps the attack had already started. He hurried out through the window, slid and stumbled through the swamp, plunged into the water. Xintel was sitting up. "Can you find the colony?" he asked. She nodded, "Far along the shore, that way, I can feel the presence of life. Your kind of life." "That's it! Let's go!" They followed the shoreline, and as the minutes passed a happy excitement grew in the Earthman at the prospect of seeing his own kind again. Xintel was silent. When they came to the opening of the slough, Xintel pointed. "That way. Not far." Barry shook his head vigorously. "They'd shoot first and look later," he explained. "Particularly after Komso's first raid. I'll have to approach overland." Half a mile beyond the slough a huge tree had fallen and was lying half in the swamp and half in the water. "This should be far enough," he decided. "Wait here for me. And be careful." He stuck his head out, studying the treacherous, mist-shrouded swamp he must cross, then ducked under again. The Venusian girl looked at him for an instant. Her hands moved as though to detain him. "Good-bye Barry." He kissed her and held her close. "It's not good-bye," he promised. "I'll come back." Xintel smiled tremulously. He released her and climbed to the tree trunk, emptied his lungs of water and slogged off into the swamp. It was filthy and difficult and dangerous traveling, but a sense of urgency was upon him. After a while he began to sing, loudly and hoarsely and off key. He sang the popular songs of his last days on Earth, cowboy ballads, ribald and unprintable construction camp ditties. The sounds drifted thinly into the enshrouding mists.