mocks and clumps of grass. Then,
weapons probing toward the house, they waited.

A couple of hundred meters from the house, a weapons carrier purred
into position, wheeled to face the house, and stopped, the muted roar
of its motor dying to a faint rumble.

Closer to the house, there was a hollow in the earth, a scar from some
long-forgotten skirmish. Over the years, rain and wind had worked on
it, softening its once harsh outlines. Grass had grown in, to further
mask the crater, till now it was a mere smooth depression in the
ground. From the edge of this depression, rose the slender rod of a
speaker, a small, directional loud-speaker blossoming from it.

Michaels grinned and turned aside for an instant.

"Just like the big broadcasts, Pete," he remarked. "Feel important?
You're going to have a big audience."

"Kind of like it better if I were making a personal appearance. Be a
lot nicer if I could talk to them--and they could see my face."

"They can't let you do that," Don grinned. "You don't look enough like
any of those guys they're supposed to be hunting. Spoil the whole
effect that way."

Pete looked at him thoughtfully.

"You know, they always tell people to throw their weapons out and come
out with their hands in the air. What would happen if someone took 'em
up on it--like the wrong someone--like me, for instance?"

"Good question," Don told him. "Saw a guy come out in one broadcast.
Someone vaporized him. No way of telling which direction the spray came
from, of course. No tracer on the beam." He shrugged.

"Somehow, I don't think it would lead to a long and happy life."

"No." Pete nodded. "I didn't suppose it would." He looked at the long
target rifle in Don's hands.

"You could have gotten several of them with that, while they were
getting into position, couldn't you?"

"Suppose so," Don nodded. "But I'm saving it for a while. Got an idea,
but it's a one-shot and I'll have to wait before I try it." He paused
as a head appeared close to the base of the loud-speaker stand.

"Well, the show's about to start," he added quietly. "Here's the man
with the serenade."

[Illustration]

The speaker disintegrated in blazing fury and Pete turned away from the
glare, to look back at the house.

"Took your father years to get this place built the way he wanted it,"
he remarked. "Shame you're going to have to lose it this way." He
glanced over at his companion.

Don was stretched out in the prone po