Kent laughed and waved a hand. "Order what you need. I guess the museum can afford a few thousand credits, considering your record--even on such a gamble." * * * * * Travis took his spaceboat out from Mars to Titan, and then on to Proxima Centauri. He asked questions in taverns and study halls. He heard of the _arklings_, of the ruined cities and temples. He heard of the _arklings'_ hate for strangers. But Travis didn't scare easily. He checked his weapons and equipment, tossed in an extra case of _safusas_-wine and waved a farewell. In the darkness he tried to grin and failed. He could hear them coming, at a distance. Their queer _slip-pat_ footsounds carried a long way. He couldn't tell just how far away they were. Travis went on, into the darkness. The light came suddenly, as he rounded a bend in the tunnel. It was milky-red, like the ancient ko-yao porcelains, delicately flushed and tinted. It shook as a veil might in a breeze. It bellied and leaped. It sent its streamers into the blackness and lighted up the tunnel. There was a queer menace about the light, a beating like the breath of an angry Sindri, Venus-god of fire. It came in little pinkish puffs. There was no heat, only that overbearing menace. Through the pink light, Travis thought he saw queerly shaped forms standing still and brooding. There was a series of cones, and huge globes that seemed to float in an orbit-- He did not hear the _slip-pat_ until too late. A hairy body landed on his shoulders and he pitched to his knees on the eon-old stone floor. As he fell he whirled and brought his _stil_-gun up. It was empty, but the long, ringed barrel sideswiped the _arkling's_ face and knocked him away. Travis got to his feet as the others hurtled at him. Giant hands that were smooth-palmed and hairy-backed hasked at his arms and leather space-harness. He slammed fists at the faces revealed by the floating red aura over them. He tried to use footwork, but the space was too narrow. It was kill or be killed, and he just didn't have the strength to stop them. A palm caught him on the ear and sent his head ringing like a carrillon tower. A fanged mouth fastened on his thigh, biting deep. Another hand raked at his naked arm and gouged out flesh. Travis leaped for them, hoping to run over their bodies and go back up the tunnel faster than they could follow. But a big _arkling_ rose up from the pack and swung a flat hand. The blow caught him on his chest, sent him reeling and sickened, back and back--