“She says, do not shoot. She will draw them off, and then return to the door, and I must be ready to run out with her. They will then try to cut us off from the gate, but we shall make for the cliff behind, and climb it, and go to meet our companions. She says I can bring you if I will, and if you can climb.” I answered, “I cannot climb that cliff. No man could.” “She says, we must go that way. It is necessary. The animals can go on killing each other if they will. She will have none of it.” I said, “Tell her I did not come here for my own pleasure, but to help her. If she does not need my help she can go her own way, and you can choose for yourself also. I am not going to lose the chance of giving these brutes another lesson.” All these thoughts exchanged in less time than it will take to read them, and even while my comrade answered, with a troubled mind, “She is a Leader. She will do right. Do not shoot.” I had already sent a shaft among them which found its victim, and this I followed with another which went weakly astray as they turned and fled to safety. The Amphibian, who had first taken a sideward leap to avoid their rush, was already moving away to draw them off the door, but seeing the effect of my shot she ran swiftly forward and pushed it open, and entered. She stood there, holding the door open with her right hand--the left arm, which had been bitten and then scalded in the water, hanging loosely beside her--with a quiet dignity, which I could not but respect, however much I might resent her attitude to myself. She did not turn her eyes to me, nor give me a thought--she never did this from first to last--and I was conscious that there was no anger in her mind. I was too far beneath her. She looked at the inside of the door for a moment, and then I was aware that their minds were in contact. Thought is swift, but it seemed a long time that we stood there. I was conscious that my comrade was fighting for her own will, and was, in a way, defying her Leader, if defiance it could be called, where I knew that both minds retained their poise and coolness, and the one that heard was both aloof and judicial. At last she asked me, “Are you content that I go with her, and can you escape by the way we came?” I replied, “You must make your own choice,” and closed my mind very quickly. I was angered at the course that events had taken, and in no mood to let her know that I was at an extremity of exhaustion. As I drew the bow the second time I knew that it was my own giddiness that made the shaft go wrong. I was standing upright with difficulty, and knew that if we separated there was not one chance in a thousand that I should escape the handling of those nauseous suckers. Her mind fought for a moment to pierce the blankness with which I met it. Then it recognised its failure. “Wait,” she answered. “I have a thought,” and again she turned to her Leader, and a longer silence followed.