"Wasn't that a little high-handed?" inquired the Exec testily. Boyette carefully considered the question, realising it might be a trap. "Why, sir?" he asked. "I've examined the lower animals on other planets, even dissected them. Why should those on this planet be any different?" Again the answer was correct. However the restless movements of the aliens indicated that his reference to them as _lower animals_ must have rankled their high intelligence. "Well," growled the Exec, "Why don't you bring him out of it? And then forget about further experiments." There was a possibility the alien might remember something damaging when it regained its full senses. But there was an immediate danger in not complying so Boyette made a great show of cooperation. His mind darted about, trying to figure a solution for his present dilemma. He could stall only for so long--then the aliens, by their use of suggestion, might resort to direct action. He shivered, thinking of the disappearance of all the crews of the ships lying outside. Several of the aliens again moved restlessly and he hastened the revival of the one now on its feet. He felt more and more the despair of working all alone. He accidentally brushed against one of the trays and stopped. What had happened the last time he moved one of them? The scraping noise had hurt the alien, of course! There, then, lay the solution to his problem in releasing the crew. Boyette almost groaned aloud. How could he ever be able to produce the shrill noise continuously enough to do any good? Even one of the supersonic dog-whistles would work--if he only had one. The distraction afforded by such a noise would bring about the crew's release. Or would the aliens' superior mentality enable them to overcome their aversion to high-pitched sounds? If they could and his purpose were diagnosed.... Boyette preferred not to dwell on the possibility. "What's the hold-up?" growled the Exec. "I can't find my bottle of stimulant," Boyette replied. His glance fell on the intercom microphone. He was desperate by now and his mind ran rapidly over the possibilities the mike opened. Every crewman was familiar with the fact that when one was opened in front of a speaker a shrill howl would result. It was due to a feed-back of course but the important part was that the sound did result. The only drawback was that the position must be just right or he'd get nothing but a low growl. The mike was within reach so he casually moved it closer to the wall-mounted speaker. He picked up the bottle he'd purposely overlooked until now and was reaching for the mike-button when a command was growled. "Wait a minute!" Boyette turned slowly and carefully to see the burly Exec bearing down on him. He considered staking everything on a quick movement but gave up the idea. If the mike wasn't in the proper position it would avail nothing. "Yes?" he answered. "What's in that bottle?" the Exec asked.