He did not sing from happiness. The colony would be an armed camp and the songs of Earth offered his only means of identification in the fog. At the end of each verse he paused and listened. * * * * * He finished a particularly lugubrious cowboy number entitled _Blood On The Saddle_. "Hey! Who's that out there?" A voice reached him through the mist. "Ya-hoo!" Barry called. "Where are you?" "Over here!" the voice replied. "Keep yelling, and--don't--shoot!" Barry called, spacing his words for clearness. But sounds moved in tricky ways through the moist, opaque air and it was only after long floundering that he saw the dim shadows of men. "Who are you?" the voice called sharply. "What are you doing out here?" "I'm Barry Barr." "You lie!" someone shouted. "Barry Barr's dead!" Barry recognized the voice. "That's what you think, Phillips!" He sloshed his way over to join them and they stared in amazement. "Where you been?" one of them demanded. "At the bottom of the sea." "This ain't no time for kidding!" the man retorted angrily. "I mean it," Barry declared earnestly. "But guide me in quick. There's hell brewing." * * * * * He waited impatiently in the vestibule of the central building while they peeled off their rubberized swamp suits. Then he was inside, back in the colony he had never expected to see again. "Call the council of captains and get the leading technical men of each division," he snapped. "Emergency!" He coughed, his lungs irritated by the artificially dehumidified air of the building. Just then Dr. Jensen passed down the hallway. He saw his erstwhile patient and came running. "What happened to you, son?" he asked. "Water machine stopped," Barry said shortly, unwilling to be diverted from more pressing matters by past events. "Had to get out or die." "The devil!" the doctor exclaimed. "It was running all right when I came back, but the window was smashed." For Barry that was conclusive evidence--if such were needed--that the breakdown had been no accident. Hind had turned on the water and power again to cover his deed. Dr. Jensen grabbed Barry's arm. "Let me make some tests on you," he asked eagerly. "No time now," Barry snapped. The four spaceship captains and as many technicians as could crowd into the room, set up a babble of questions as Barry entered. He glanced around quickly, searching for two faces, but neither Dorothy Voorhees nor Robson Hind was there. He held up a hand for silence. The noise subsided. "Gentlemen, there is intelligent life on Venus, intelligent _human_ life of an origin common to our own. You tangled with them recently." "My God!" a man exclaimed. "We thought it was some animal that killed Evans." "I told you that was a knife wound and not the mark of teeth," another interrupted.