he foot of the ladder. Ross
was hungry and very tired. If the major wanted to play games, he hoped
that such action could wait until the next morning.

In the meantime he must learn where "here" was. If he had a chance to
run, he wanted to know the surrounding territory. But that hand was on
his arm, drawing him along toward a door that stood half-open. As far as
Ross could see, it led to the interior of a hillock of snow. Either the
storm or men had done a very good cover-up job, and somehow Ross knew
the camouflage was intentional.

That was Ross's introduction to the base, and after his arrival his view
of the installation was extremely limited. One day was spent in
undergoing the most searching physical he had ever experienced. And
after the doctors had poked and pried he was faced by a series of other
tests no one bothered to explain. Thereafter he was introduced to
solitary, that is, confined to his own company in a cell-like room with
a bunk that was more comfortable than it looked and an announcer in a
corner of the ceiling. So far he had been told exactly nothing. And so
far he had asked no questions, stubbornly keeping up his end of what he
believed to be a tug of wills. At the moment, safely alone and lying
flat on his bunk he eyed the announcer, a very dangerous young man and
one who refused to yield an inch.

"Now hear this...." The voice transmitted through that grill was
metallic, but its rasp held overtones of Kelgarries' voice. Ross's lips
tightened. He had explored every inch of the walls and knew that there
was no trace of the door which had admitted him. With only his bare
hands to work with he could not break out, and his only clothes were the
shirt, sturdy slacks, and a pair of soft-soled moccasins that they had
given him.

"... to identify ..." droned the voice. Ross realized that he must have
missed something, not that it mattered. He was almost determined not to
play along any more.

There was a click, signifying that Kelgarries was through braying. But
the customary silence did not close in again. Instead, Ross heard a
clear, sweet trilling which he vaguely associated with a bird. His
acquaintance with all feathered life was limited to city sparrows and
plump park pigeons, neither of which raised their voices in song, but
surely those sounds were bird notes. Ross glanced from the mike in the
ceiling to the opposite wall and what he saw there made him sit up, with
the instant response of a