d without fear of detection,
secure in his disguise.

* * * * *

Presently he came upon a street where streams of bipeds jostled one
another, each seemingly intent upon its own particular incomprehensible
errands. For a long while he watched from the shelter of an alley
doorway, classifying and integrating the information his host's sharp
eyes brought him. It was miraculous. Hosts of every size and description
were in abundance--an unlimited supply of them. Enough for the whole
population of Triom. It was beyond belief, but he could not doubt. And
this was but a single concentration. A single city. From the
stratosphere he had seen hundreds of similar cities. Paradise! He
envisioned the fleets of Triom descending, the Triomeds emerging and
infiltrating. The thoughts brought pride and anticipation. It had been
so easy....

He decided not to linger. He felt now that he had his proofs and that he
should return at once to his ship. Triom must be told immediately. The
communicator in the ship could carry the message as soon as the craft
reached a suitable distance from planetary mass. He would return, send
the ship aloft, dispatch his message and then return to his host to
await the others of his race.

His decision made, he stepped confidently out into the throng of bipeds,
seeking the shortest route back to his hidden craft.

The result was instantaneous and amazing.

The crowd drew back with a howling, shrieking noise, leaving him
standing in the center of a circle of dead white faces.

Behind the first row of bipeds, he could see others running in every
direction, and screaming at the top of their voices. The racket,
combined with the noises of the city, was most unpleasant. The Triomed
began to be afraid.

[Illustration]

He broke into a rapid walk, and the crowd parted before him with much
louder screeching. Here and there a biped, apparently braver than the
rest, made threatening motions with bundles or knotted fists. A package
struck him on the shoulder.

The Triomed began to run. He noted for the first time that he towered
head and shoulders over most of the bipeds nearby, and his host's brain
interpreted the smells of hate and fear all about him.

The crowd scattered wildly at his approach, but he was being followed.
Panic began to clutch at the alien. What had he done wrong? Somewhere a
wailing sound began--vehicles with glaring red lights swept past him
with vicious,