hey won't expect us to try anything this late.
Suppose we get out."

"How?" demanded the chunky man.

Lockley said carefully, "This box is resting on top of the ground.
I've dug down through the sand and found the bottom edge of the metal
sidewall. If it's resting only on dirt, not stone, we ought to be able
to dig out with our hands. I'll start now. You listen."

He began to dig with his hands, first clearing away the sand for a
reasonable space. He felt a certain sardonic interest in what might
happen. He strongly suspected that nothing undesirable would take
place.

It was at least quaint that aliens from outer space should accept a
bottomless metal shell as a suitable prison for animals. It was quaint
that they'd put in a sandy floor. How would they know that such a
thing meant a cage, on earth?

Of course the whole event might have been a test of animal
intelligence. Almost any animal would have tried to burrow out.

Lockley dug. The earth was hard, and its upper part was filled with
tenacious grass roots. Lockley pulled them away. Once he'd gotten
under them, the digging went faster. Presently he was under the metal
side wall. He dug upward. His hand reached open air.

"One of you can spell me now," he reported in a low tone. "It looks
like we'll get away. But we've got to make our plans first. We don't
want to be talking outside the tank, or even when the hole's
fair-sized. For instance, will we want to keep together when we get
outside?"

"Nix!" said the chunky man. "We wanna tell everybody about these
characters. We scatter. If they catch one they don't catch any more.
We couldn't fight any better for bein' together. We better scatter. I
call that settled. I'm scatterin'!"

He crawled to Lockley in the darkness.

"Where you diggin'? OK. I got it. Move aside an' give me room."

"Everybody agrees on that?" asked Lockley.

They did. Lockley was relieved. The chunky man dug busily. There was
only the sound of breathing, and the occasional fall of thrown-out
earth against the metal of the thing that confined them. The chunky
man said briskly, "This dirt digs all right. We just got to make the
hole bigger."

In a little while the chunky man stopped, panting. The tall man said,
"I'll take a shot at it."

There was a breakthrough to the air outside. The atmosphere in the
tank improved. The smell of fresh-dug dirt and cool night air was
refreshing. The moustached man took his turn at digging. Lockley