en were
visible on its shadow-dappled clearing. Even the surrounding jungle,
in the watch-beacon's shaded underside, might have been nothing but a
stage set, were it not for the occasional signs of the life that crept
unseen through it--a long, far-distant howl, a quickly receding
crashing in the undergrowth, a thumping from some small animal.

The guards were used to this pattern of nocturnal sounds. It was only
when, from a tree not thirty feet from one of the platforms, there
came a sudden sharp shaking in the upper branches, that the Venusian
on that platform deigned to grip his ray-gun and peer suspiciously.
All he saw was a large bird that flapped out and winged across the
clearing, mewing angrily.

The guard released his grip on the gun. A snake, probably, had
disturbed the bird. Or some of those devilish little crimson bansis,
half insect, half crab....

* * * * *

Hawk Carse breathed again. He had been sure his position would be
revealed when, drifting with almost imperceptible motion into the
tree, the bird had pecked at him, then flapped away in alarm. A long,
painfully cautious approach from tree to tree to the selected one had
been necessary to the daring scheme of attack he had evolved.

He seemed to be safe. Through a fringe of leaves he saw the guard on
the platform glancing elsewhere. Carse steadied himself, rose slightly
and again scanned the ranch.

Yes, it looked harmless, but he knew that nothing could be further
from the reality. Spaced around the inside edge of that spiky fence
were small metal nozzles protruding a few inches from the ground; and
on the turning of a control wheel, they would hurl forth a deadly
orange swathe, fanning hundreds of feet into the sky. He had tasted
their hot breath once when attacking the ranch in his _Star Devil_.
Then there were the long-range projectors whose muzzles studded the
central building. And the ray-guns of the tower guards.

These were dangers that he knew, for he had experienced them. What
others the ranch held, he could not well surmise. But he saw one
significant thing that gave him pause and brought lines to his brow.

The ranch was expecting trouble. Over to one side of the clearing
rested a great rounded object, on whose smooth hull gleamed coldly the
light from the beacon--Lar Tantril's own personal space-ship--and
alongside it a smaller, somewhat similar shape, the ranch's air-car!
The space-ship signified