through small pools, beating a path through tangles of
marsh grass. He stole eggs from nests, sucking his nourishment eagerly
with no dislike for the fishy flavor, and drinking from stagnant,
brackish ponds.

Suddenly Ross halted, at first thinking that the continuous roll of
sound he heard was thunder. Yet the clouds overhead were massed no more
than before and there was no sign of lightning. Continuing on, he
realized that the mysterious sound was the pounding of surf--he was near
the sea!

Willing his body to run, he weaved forward at a reeling trot, pitting
all his energy against the incessant pull from behind. His feet skidded
out of marsh mud into sand. Ahead of him were dark rocks surrounded by
the white lace of spray.

Ross headed straight toward that spray until he stood knee-deep in the
curling, foam-edged water and felt its tug on his body almost as strong
as that other tug upon his mind. He knelt, letting the salt water sting
to life every cut, every burn, sputtering as it filled his mouth and
nostrils, washing from him the slime of the bog lands. It was cold and
bitter, but it was the sea! He had made it!

Ross Murdock staggered back and sat down suddenly in the sand. Glancing
about, he saw that his refuge was a rough triangle between two of the
small river arms, littered with the debris of the spring floods which
had grounded here after rejection by the sea. Although there was plenty
of material for a fire, he had no means of kindling a flame, having lost
the flint all Beaker traders carried for such a purpose.

This was the sea, and against all odds he had reached it. He lay back,
his self-confidence restored to the point where he dared once more to
consider the future. He watched the swooping flight of gulls drawing
patterns under the clouds above. For the moment he wanted nothing more
than to lie here and rest.

But he did not surrender to this first demand of his over-driven body
for long. Hungry and cold, sure that a storm was coming, he knew he had
to build a fire--a fire on shore could provide him with the means of
signaling the sub. Hardly knowing why--because one part of the coastline
was as good as another--Ross began to walk again, threading a path in
and out among the rocky outcrops.

So he found it, a hollow between two such windbreaks within which was a
blackened circle of small stones holding charred wood, with some empty
shells piled near-by. Here was unmistakable evidence of a cam