even.

"But maybe they'll be able to make a repair. In any case there are
other beams. Those are probably stationary and the truck knows where
they are and calls by truck radio to have them shut off when it wants
to go by. That would work. Using the Wild Life truck was really very
clever."

He wrenched at something. It gave. He pulled out a length of wire and
started working on one end of it.

"If they guess we got a car," he observed, "they'll expect us to run
into a road block beam that would wreck the car and paralyze us. I'm
taking a small precaution against that. Here." He put the wire's end
into her hand. "It's the lead-in from this car's radio antenna. It
ought to warn us of beams across the road as my watch spring did in
the hills. Hold it."

"I will," said Jill.

"One more item," he said. He got out of the car and closed the door
quickly. He went to the back. There was the sound of breaking glass.
He returned, saying, "No brake lights will go on now. I'll try to do
something about that dome light." With a sharp blow he shattered it.
"Now we could be as hard to trail as that Wild Life truck was the
other night."

Jill groped as the car got into motion again.

"You mean it was--Oh!"

"Most likely," agreed Lockley, "it was the thing that went out of the
park and occupied Maplewood, flinging terror beams in all directions.
Some of the truck's crew would have had footgear to make hoofprints.
They committed a token burglary or two. And there was the illusion of
aliens studying these queer creatures, men."

They went on at not more than fifteen miles an hour. The car was
almost soundless. They heard insects singing in the night. There was a
steady, monotonous rumbling high above where Air Force planes
patrolled outside the Park. After a time Jill said, "You seemed
discouraged when you talked to that general."

"I was," said Lockley. "I am. He played it safe, refused to admit that
anybody in authority over him could possibly be mistaken. That's sound
policy, and I was contradicting the official opinion of his superiors.
I've got to find somebody of much lower rank, or much higher.
Maybe--"

Jill said in a strained voice, "Stop!"

He braked. She said unsteadily, "Holding the wire, I smell that
horrible smell."

He put his hand on the wire's end. He shared the sensation.

"Terror beam across the highway," he said calmly. "Maybe on our
account, maybe not. But there was a side road a little way back."