But Drake was after him. He stood, bent double within the narrow confines of these walls. He scrambled up, against all the efforts of Togaro to shove him back. They fought in the space over us. Already too large to come back. Their bodies fell as again they locked together. Fell across the roof opening, so huge now that we could see only a portion of their legs. Again the space up there must have been too small. They scrambled higher. The sounds of the fighting faded into the upper distance. * * * * * Father sat with Ahlma, watching us as we dwindled before his horrified eyes. He saw us, an inch high, standing by the wall. Dianne called, "Good-by." He saw us smaller, running across the tiny space, still closer to the wall. He did not dare move. He sat by the table with Ahlma beside him. She put her hand out presently and touched his arm; his hand gripped hers and held it. He said softly, "You love my girl Dianne?" "Oh, yes. My friend and our princess." "You're older?" "A little." He paused. "Ahlma, will you bring her back to me when this is over? Will you? We'll get the fragment of rock which holds your atom. I'll guard it carefully. Will you bring Dianne back to me?" She turned her face to him, a face perhaps as beautiful as Dianne's, gentle, thoughtful. She brushed away a straying lock of her golden hair. Her blue eyes regarded father. She said, "Yes. I will urge her. And would you like me to come?" "Yes," he said. And at the pressure of her hand, he added, "Oh, but don't you understand, Ahlma--Dianne seems to me just my little daughter--I love her." "I understand." Her gaze still held his. In the blue depths of her eyes he saw a light twinkling like a smile. But her voice was very earnest as she added: "And I will come also." The twinkling light in her eyes spread to a whimsical smile twitching at her lips. "What a handsome young man your son Drake is." Half an hour must have passed. Or perhaps more. They sat, watching the small segment of floor into which we had vanished. There was a moment or two, father recalls, when it chanced that they were talking, and their glances strayed away. When they looked back, Ahlma gave a cry. "I see--" Father started to his feet, but she held him. He saw nothing. "What? What is it, Ahlma?" "One of them!" A single figure. A speck, there on the board. Ahlma lifted the lampshade. He saw it then. Something there-- "One of them!" she repeated. Her voice caught in her throat as terror swept her. "Only one! A man!" She cautiously drew father forward. They knelt carefully on the floor, bending down over the board. A tiny figure there, an eighth of an inch long. But it grew. Half an inch! A man's figure. Clothes torn and blood-stained. Drake! He lay on his side. But he moved. He drew himself up on one elbow. An inch long now. He tried to stand, but swayed and fell back. He had spoken, but they did not hear it. He waved an arm.