"Bow and arrow--why, suh, almost as advanced as not being afraid to end a sentence with a preposition." "Hell with you. Twenty thousand years ago, or whenever it was we reached our present physique, if there'd been anything external to teach men how to behave like grown-ups----. Well, we had to sweat it out--tribal wars, bigger wars, venerated fears, errors, and stupidities. But maybe here----" "Are _we_ big enough?" Wright shut his eyes. His thin cheeks were too bright; there was a tremor in the rifle tip. "Wish I knew, Paul. We have to try." Ed Spearman yelled, "Look out!" A rifle banged, and a pistol. A brown darkness had come swooping from the lake. Others followed--mud-brown, squealing. They had banked at the noise of the shots to circle overhead. Paul fired; a near one tumbled, screeching, thrashing a narrow wolfish head on a long neck, black teeth snapping in the death throes--but even now it was trying to hobble forward and get at them. The others wheeled lower until Wright's rifle spoke, and Spearman's; there was the dry slap of Dorothy's automatic pistol. "Back to the trees!" The wounded thing on the ground set up a bubbling howl. More were coming, with weaving of pointed red-eyed heads on mobile necks. Paul ran, Wright loping beside him, hearing the crash of their friends' weapons. Something slammed Paul's shoulder, flopped against his leg, tripping him. He tumbled over a shape furry and violent that smelled of fish and carrion. He fought clear of it, sobbing in animal wrath, and reached the shelter of the trees and Dorothy's embrace. Sweat blinded him. Wright was clutching him too, getting his jacket off. "Flesh wound. The hind foot got you----" "I saw it." Ann Bryan choked. "Saw it happen. Filthy claws----" Wright had a bottle of antiseptic. "Son, you ain't going to like this. Hang on to the lady." But the pain was a welcome flare. Paul's eyes cleared as Wright made him a bandage of gauze, with Dorothy's help. He could look from the shelter of overhanging branches at a confusion of wings. The creatures had not followed as far as the lifeboat; perhaps its shining mass disturbed them. Spearman groaned: "You _would_ go out." Wright snapped at him. "Camp in the open--some disadvantages----" "Granted. But you sure learned it the hard way." "Eating"--Ann pointed, nauseated--"their own wounded--" Wright stepped between her and the loud orgy in the meadow. "Wing spread, fifteen feet. Well--sky's bad, woods maybe. What do you suggest?" "Clear underbrush," Spearman said, "so we can see into the woods. Pile it just beyond this overhang of branches for a barrier, leave a space so we can reach the lifeboat. We can get to the lake for water without going much in the open." "Good," said Wright. A peace offering. Spearman smiled neutrally. "If the water's safe," said Sears Oliphant. Wright grinned at the fat man. "Pal, it better be."