went
at it again. Soon he whispered, "I think it's OK. I'll go ahead. No
talking outside!"

He shook hands all around, whispered "Good luck!" and squirmed through
the opening to the night. Innumerable stars glittered in the sky. They
were reflected on the water of the lake, here very close. Lockley
moved silently. In the blackness just behind him, his eyes had become
adjusted to almost complete darkness. He headed away from the shining
water. He got brushwood between himself and his former companions. He
stood very, very still.

He heard them murmuring together. They were outside. But they had
proposed entirely separate efforts at escape. He went on, relieved. It
happened that the next time he'd see them, circumstances would be
entirely different. But he believed they were competent men.

Guided by the Big Dipper, he moved directly toward the place where
Jill should be waiting for him. By the angle of the Dipper's handle he
knew that it was almost midnight. Jill would surely have known that
nearly the worst had happened. He'd have to find her....

It was two o'clock when he reached the place where Jill had intended
to wait. He showed himself openly. He called quietly. There was no
answer. He called again, and again.

He saw something white. It was a scrap of paper speared on a brushwood
branch which had been stripped of leaves to make the paper show
clearly. Lockley retrieved it and saw markings on it which the
starlight could not help him to read. He went deep into the woods,
found a hollow, and bent low, risking the light of his cigarette
lighter for a swift look at the message.

_"I saw creatures moving around in the camp. They weren't
men. I was afraid they might be hunting me. I've gone to
wait by the car if I can find it."_

She'd written in English, in full confidence that creatures from space
would not be able to read it. Lockley was not so sure, but the message
hadn't been removed. If it had been read, there'd have been an ambush
waiting for him when he found it. So it appeared.

He headed through the night toward the ditched small car.

It seemed a very long way, though he did stop and drink his fill from
a little mountain stream over which a highway bridge had almost been
completed. In the night, though, and with hard going, it was not easy
to estimate how far he'd gone. In fact, he was anxiously debating if
he mightn't have passed the abandoned bulldozer when he came upon the
place