apping of wings behind and above him then, and thought
with shock-born lucidity: _I wanted a backstage look at this show, and
now I'm one of the cast_.

The scouter roared in from the west across the thorn forest, flashing so
close above his head that he felt the wind of its passage. Almost
instantly he heard the shrilling blast of its emergency bow jets as
Gibson met the lizard swarm head on.

Gibson's voice came tinnily from the audicom. "Scattered them for the
moment, Arthur--blinded the whole crew with the exhaust, I think. Stand
fast, now. I'm going to pick you up."

The scouter settled on the outcrop beside Farrell, so close that the hot
wash of its exhaust gases scorched his bare legs. Gibson put out thick
brown arms and hauled him inside like a straw man, ignoring the native.
The scouter darted for shore with Farrell lying across Gibson's knees in
the cockpit, his head hanging half overside.

Farrell had a last dizzy glimpse of the islet against the rush of green
water below, and felt his shaky laugh of relief stick in his throat. Two
of the octopods were swimming strongly for shore, holding the rigid
Arzian native carefully above water between them.

"Gib," Farrell croaked. "Gib, can you risk a look back? I think I've
gone mad."

The scouter swerved briefly as Gibson looked back. "You're all right,
Arthur. Just hang on tight. I'll explain everything when we get you safe
in the _Marco_."

Farrell forced himself to relax, more relieved than alarmed by the
painful pricking of returning sensation. "I might have known it, damn
you," he said. "You found your lost city, didn't you?"

Gibson sounded a little disgusted, as if he were still angry with
himself over some private stupidity. "I'd have found it sooner if I'd
had any brains. It was under water, of course."

* * * * *

In the _Marco Four_, Gibson routed Stryker out of his cubicle and mixed
drinks around, leaving Farrell comfortably relaxed in the padded control
chair. The paralysis was still wearing off slowly, easing Farrell's fear
of being permanently disabled.

"We never saw the city from the scouter because we didn't go high
enough," Gibson said. "I realized that finally, remembering how they
used high-altitude blimps during the First Wars to spot submarines, and
when I took the scouter up far enough there it was, at the ocean
bottom--a city to compare with anything men ever built."

Stryker stared. "A marine ci