m supposed to go out there and blast giants, dammit. Who
could have swiped me so hard?"

* * * * *

Pink took an experimental hop. It should have carried him, at Terra
gravity, about two feet. He soared over a hillock and came down gently
on a plain of rock that looked like lava; his hop had carried him some
scores of yards. He felt for an instant like a kid let loose on a
wonderful playground. Then he snapped into it and began to scan the
terrain for signs of life.

To the right was the mountain they had seen from the descending ship,
with its irregular rows of gaping holes which suggested caves and
therefore possible habitations. It wouldn't take more than five minutes
to reach them at an easy amble, or a minute at a brisk walk; about a
mile away, they seemed.

Then with a horrified start he remembered the giant who had been atop
his ship. Washington Daley had been delegated to deal with it--and Pink
had forgotten, had not even glanced back to see how his lieutenant was
making out! He whirled neglecting caution, and fell on his face. Luckily
he came down like a big bulky feather, and caught himself and bounced up
again, a rubber ball of a man on this alien world Oasis.

He was just in time to see the giant, bending forward over the front of
the ship, begin to blur and stream downward toward the tiny figure of
the human who stood below him. In a moment he resembled a cloud of
tobacco-smoke, drawn into the gray container in Daley's hand. He
vanished entirely, Daley clapped on the sealing lid, and gave a
triumphant wave to his captain. Pink blew out a breath of gratitude and
remorse; he'd have to be on his toes from now on, really vibrant with
watchfulness. Laxity in one thing could lose this weird battle.

Strung out in a straggling line of erratically progressing units, the
men of Earth headed for the caves. In a time so short as to be faintly
ridiculous, they were moving up the mountainside. The gaping holes
_were_ caves, and obviously deep ones. Pink stood at the entrance of one
for a moment, checking on the number of his men; then he waved a hand
over his head, and entered the great den. Behind him came another
figure, one whose slimness told him it was probably Jerry.

Their chest lamps lit up the interior, which was as gray, knobby, and
featureless as the outside world. Pink held his Colt .44 in his right
hand, one of the bottles in his left. The technicians of the _Elephant's