"Let's head West," shouted Denny. "There's a bay that runs in here, toward the city. We came in that way before, from the sea. Shouldn't be far from here. If we can get on the open beach, it'll be lots better going than this damned jungle." With this they had to agree, and no time was lost in plunging into the jungle in the direction he had indicated. The four were now weaponless, and would have fallen easy prey to any one of a dozen varieties of carnivorous monsters who habitually roamed the forest. But the creatures evidently did not consider the rain conducive to good hunting, and so they were unmolested. Two hours of exhausting struggle brought them out on the beach, which had not been over a mile away. "Now we can make time," said Denny. "This narrow strip of beach will take us almost straight away from the space port for about twenty miles." "We'll do our best to cover it in the four hours we have left," Art chuckled. They set out at a rapid clip, keeping a wary eye on both jungle and sea, from either of which might spring sudden death at any moment. The rain stopped, but lead-colored clouds still swirled overhead, for Venus was eternally overcast. Plenty of drinking water was to be found in the hollows of huge leaves--but the need for food was becoming keen with all of them. Still, they did not dare tarry long enough to find sustenance. "There are a few species of fish in these waters which I know to be edible," explained Denny. "When it's safe to stop, we can catch a few." * * * * * "You may stop right now!" commanded a harsh voice from behind them. They whirled--there, in the fringe of the jungle, his gray hair awry, his eyes glittering with desperation, stood Doctor Theller, covering them with the wide mouth of an electronic pistol. "You--the Martian--I need your services. Come along--there's no time to lose. The rest of you come, too." There was nothing to do but trudge ahead of him through the jungle in the direction he indicated. There, as they had expected, lay Klalmar-lan's ship. "You are having a little trouble with my ship?" inquired the Martian insolently, winking at his comrades. "Yes, damn you--and you're going to fix it!" snarled the scientist. "It was necessary for me to fly through a narrow opening--I grazed the edge slightly. Two of the starboard main propulsion jets were sheared away. I had no trouble losing my pursuers in the mist, but when I cut in the main jets to leave the atmosphere, I merely looped about in crazy trajectories. The right adjustment of the firing pattern would compensate for this, but I could not find it. On one of my own ships, yes, but this confounded Martian oddity is beyond my understanding. I had to drop down here, and attempt to trace out the connections from the firing panel. This I have been unable to do. You will do it for me!" "Apparently you no longer occupy your former position of esteem with the Voornizar," mocked Art.