Through the gap between the barn doors,
he could see past the house. Then he could see the length of the lane
and the trees on the far side of the highway.

He was laying out the food when suddenly he froze, listening. The
stillness of just-before-dawn was broken by the distant rumble of an
internal-combustion engine. It was a familiar kind of rumbling. It
drew nearer. Except for the singularly distinct impacts of drippings
from leaves and roof to the ground below, it was the only sound in all
the world.

It became louder. Jill clenched her hands unconsciously.

"I don't think there are any car tracks at the turn-off where we came
in," said Lockley in a level voice. "The rain should have washed them
out. It's not likely they're looking for us here anyhow. But I've only
got three bullets left in the pistol. Maybe you'd better go off and
hide in the cornfield. Then if things go wrong they'll believe I left
you somewhere."

"No," said Jill composedly, "I'd leave tracks in the ploughed ground.
They'd find me."

Lockley ground his teeth. He got out the pistol he'd taken from the
truck driver in the lighted room in Serena. He looked at it grimly. It
would be useless, but....

Jill came and stood beside him, watching his face.

The rumbling of the truck was still nearer and louder. It diminished
for a moment where a curve in the road took the vehicle behind some
trees that deadened its noise. But then the sound increased suddenly.
It was very loud and frighteningly near.

Lockley watched through the gap between the barn doors. He stayed
well back lest his face be seen.

The trailer-truck with the Wild Life Control markings on it rumbled
past. It growled and roared. The noise seemed thunderous. Its wheels
splashed as they went through a puddle close by the gate.

It went away into the distance. Jill took a deep breath of relief.
Lockley made a warning gesture.

He listened. The noise went on steadily for what he guessed to be a
mile or more. Then they heard it stop. Only by straining his ears
could Lockley pick up the sound of an idling motor. Maybe that was
imagination. Certainly at any other less silent time he could not
possibly have heard it. Jill whispered, "Do you think--"

He gestured for silence again. The distant heavy engine continued to
idle. One minute. Two. Three. Then the grinding of gears and the roar
of the engine once more. The truck went on. Its sound diminished. It
faded away altogether.

"T