n shot four of them before the circle closed to hatchet
range. He and Hanson stood back to back, slashing out at the ring of
fanged faces.

The attackers were weaponless. They cared nothing for individual
bodies. The collectivum swayed, writhed, darted in--and fell in blood.
The wounded crawled close to their ankles, barbs protruding from their
lips. They roared constantly, "_Oren is paradise. Come to Oren._"

A child, who had been rescued from one of the dogs, crawled among the
legs of the adults and lunged for Morgan's feet. He was forced to kick
it back with a hard heel.

Suddenly their ranks broke. There were only four of them left
standing. They backed away and stopped--three men and a middle-aged
woman. "_Oren will return._" They turned and marched toward the truck.

"We need the truck," panted Morgan.

Hanson flung his pitchfork and caught the last one in the center of
the back. The others moved on unheeding. Morgan sadly lifted the
shotgun.

When it was over, they went to look at the two child-things. One was
unconscious, but not badly wounded. The other had a broken arm. It
shot out its fang and circled. With a sick heart, Morgan lashed out
and caught it by the hair, before it could sting him.

"See if there's pliers in the truck," he muttered.

* * * * *

Hanson returned with them after a moment's rummaging. They jerked out
its fang and let it go. It walked calmly to the north, purpose
defeated. They did the same to the other.

"It's crazy," he was gasping. "Stark crazy. They spend over a dozen
Orenians just to get two of us. And they didn't want to kill us at
that."

"Lo'dy, suh! Who _is_ Oren? You know?"

Morgan shook his head. "He's the collectivum, Han."

"But suh--he had to come from some place. People weren't like this--"

"Yeah. I guess he came from space, like they say."

"Just them little pink brain-gobblers?"

"Uh-uh! Scientists figure they came in some alien host. The hosts
couldn't take Earth conditions. They stung a few humans and died."

"Anybody ever see 'em?"

"Not that I know of. Nor found their ships."

"O Lo'dy, I'm sick, suh."

"Let's go back to the shanty, Han."

"Yes, suh. Look on the back o' my neck, will you suh?"

Morgan looked, then turned slowly away.

"Is it, suh?"

Morgan took a deep breath. "I--I--guess--"

"I stumbled once. I guess he got me then."

Morgan laid a hand on the old man's arm. There was nothing to say.