ng
themselves against the metal wall.

"I'd say," observed Lockley, "that his guess," he nodded at the tall
man, "is the most likely one. Rabbits and birds and porcupines would
be considered specimens of the local living creatures. We could be
considered specimens too. Maybe we are. Maybe we're simply being held
caged until there's time for a scientific examination of us. Let's
hope they don't happen to drop a bear down here to wait with us!"

The tall man said, "Or rattlers! I wonder what time it is. I'll feel
better when dark comes. They're not so likely to find rattlers in the
dark."

Lockley said nothing. But if Boulder Lake had been chosen for a
landing place on the basis of previously acquired information, it
wasn't likely that either bears or rattlesnakes would be put in
confinement with the men. The men would have been killed immediately,
unless there was a practical use to be made of them. He began to make
guesses. He could make a great many, but none of them added up exactly
right.

Only one seemed promising, and that assumed a lot of items Lockley
couldn't be sure of. He did know, though, that he'd been lifted up
before he was dropped into the round opening of this tank-like metal
shell. The top of the box was well above ground. It was not sunk in
place as it would eventually be. Evidently it was not yet in its
permanent position. The light inside was dim enough, but he could see
the other men and the animals and the birds. He could make out the
riveted plates which formed the box's sides and top.

Inconspicuously, he worked his hand down through the sand bottom of
the prison. Four inches down the sand ended and there was earth. He
felt around. He found grass stems. The box, then, rested on top of the
ground, which was perfectly natural for a compost pit shell not yet
placed where it would finally belong. The sand.... He explored
further.

He waited. The other three stayed quiet. The faint brightness around
the cover hole faded away. The interior of the tank-like box became
abysmally black.

"Can anybody guess the time?" he asked, after aeons seemed to have
passed.

"It feels like next Thursday," said the voice of the moustached man,
"but it's probably ten or eleven o'clock. Looks like we're just going
to be left here till they get around to us."

"I think we'd better not wait," said Lockley. "We've been pretty
quiet. They probably think we're well-behaved specimens of this
planet's wild life. T