did they want him to return? Why did they not follow him? Or were
they afraid to venture too far from where they had come through the
transfer? Yet the unseen rope which was tugging at him did not grow less
tenuous as he put more distance between himself and the mountain valley.
Ross could understand neither their motives nor their methods, but he
could continue to fight.

The bog was endless. He found an island and lashed himself with his suit
belt to the single willow which grew there, knowing that he must have
sleep, or he could not hope to last through the next day. Then he slept,
only to waken cold, shaking, and afraid. Shoulder deep in a pool, he was
aware that in his sleep he must have opened the belt buckle and freed
himself, and only the mishap of falling into the water had brought him
around to sanity.

Somehow he got back to the tree, rehooked the buckle and twisted the
belt around the branches so that he was sure he could not work it free
until daybreak. He lapsed into a deepening doze, and awoke, still safely
anchored, with the morning cries of the birds. Ross considered the suit
as he untangled the belt. Could the strange clothing be the tie by which
the aliens held to him? If he were to strip, leaving the garment behind,
would he be safe?

He tried to force open the studs across his chest, but they would not
yield to the slight pressure which was all his seared fingers could
exert, and when he pulled at the fabric, he was unable to tear it. So,
still wearing the livery of the off-world men, Ross continued on his
way, hardly caring where he went or how. The mud plastered on him by his
frequent falls was some protection against the swarm of insect life his
passing stirred into attack. However, he was able to endure a swollen
face and slitted eyes, being far more conscious of the wrenching feeling
within him than the misery of his body.

The character of the marsh began to change once more. The river was
splitting into a dozen smaller streams, shaping out fanlike. Looking
down at this from one of the marsh hillocks, Ross knew a faint surge of
relief. Such a place had been on the map Ashe had made them memorize. He
was close to the sea at last, and for the moment that was enough.

A salt-sharpened wind cut at him with the force of a fist in the face.
In the absence of sunlight the leaden clouds overhead set a winterlike
gloom across the countryside. To the constant sound of birdcalls Ross
tramped heavily