"What is it? What happened?"

Porfirio Villa, adventurer, laughed. The relief that washed through him
was making him shake, his empty stomach still heaved after the panic,
but from somewhere in his soul he dredged up the casual laugh. "Very
little happened," he said. "Truly very little of interest."

III

Mrs. Full sat on the straw, twisting her hands together. She did not
know she was doing it until she had to disentangle them to pull her
skirt lower on her folded legs, and then she deliberately put one hand
flat on the floor so that she would not appear to be nervous. She wanted
Calvin to be as proud of her in this terrible crisis as she was of him.

But Calvin was calm, at any rate; so she was impatiently proud of him.

"We've got to slam something into that opening next time the wall slides
back," said Watkins. She nodded at him approvingly. There was a man who
might be of some help.

"What do you think these creatures are, Mr. Watkins?" she asked quietly,
though she felt like screeching the question.

"I haven't the least idea, ma'am."

"Freak gorillas," said Calvin.

"No, sir," said Adam. "I've been thinking. Wasn't the Java Ape Man about
nine feet tall?"

"Five and a half's more like it," said Watkins. "At least that's how I
remember it."

"Well, _some_ fossil man was nine feet tall," said Adam dogmatically.
"Couldn't that thing be one of them? There's plenty of places in the
world where a race of people or animals could have developed without
Homo sapiens being any the wiser. Now suppose they got hold of us?"

"How?" asked Calvin.

"Through people working for 'em. We might all have been doped and put on
a plane and we might be on an island somewhere now, or in the middle of
a jungle, with these whatcha-may-call-'ems."

"How were we doped?" persisted Calvin.

"Gosh, I don't know that!"

"And what the devil do they want with us?" asked Watkins.

* * * * *

Mrs. Full did not hear what Adam said. She was wondering, with a cold
horror, if the creatures were near enough human to desire white girls
as--as mates. "Calvin, we've got to get home!" she cried.

"We will, dear." He patted her shoulder. "Don't you worry."

"Someone has to worry."

"We all are, ma'am," said the pleasant Watkins. "Except you, I guess,
Summersby," he added accusingly.

Summersby stared at him, seemed about to speak, then looked away. She
was afraid of this great man. He might be a