warden would be more accurate," Scott said. "He isn't here to
prevent theft. The stuff in these buildings is too big to steal
without a convoy of trucks that would awaken the whole town. But he
does have a definite route, with fixed posts where he clocks in."

Two more cars drifted to a halt, disgorged men armed with shotguns and
submachine guns.

Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gave his orders carefully,
obviously aware that he had two renowned tacticians with him.

His car and one of the newly-arrived ones were to remain in front of
the warehouse. The other patrol car would pull around the block and
join Sergeant Kerr in the alley. At Scott's signal, they would flood
the building with light.

And not until much later did Bennington remember to laugh at the way
they had all followed the elephantine Whelton's example and gone on
tiptoe down the walk between the two concrete-walled warehouses, into
the alley behind.

* * * * *

The broken window was in a small door, part of the large door which
let trucks in and out.

"Nice eye," Scott said to Whelton.

Bennington agreed.

The break in the window was just big enough to allow a hand through
the door, a small hand through the pane to the lock on the inside of
the door.

Scott stretched out his arm to try to slide his big, freckled hand
through the break in the window, but abruptly Thornberry stepped
forward, catching the chief's hand in mid-gesture.

"One moment, Chief Scott!"

The chief was startled. "What's up?"

"This isn't your job, it's mine. If that poor boy _is_ in there, he
needs a doctor, not a bullet."

"Whatthehell--" Scott sputtered, the phrase emerging as a single word.

"Thornberry's right, Chief Scott, though he's right for the wrong
reason. Clarens is our job."

_Following the tiger had been a simple act of necessity in two ways.
To rid the tiger of the pain it could not remove from itself and to
rid society of the menace the beast had been and would continue to be
until it was destroyed._

With his words to Scott, with that last thought, Bennington shook the
lethargy, the stillness of deep thought that had contained and
enveloped him since the report of this breaking and entering.

Now, as in that dash to the mess hall, he was ready for the fast
sprint, the decisive action.

Before Scott could answer and possibly object, Thornberry had taken
the flashlight from the chief's hand, was fumbling thro