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That confidence led Raf to climb above them so that he could watch them with less chance of being seen in return. It had been almost noon when they had at last come into this section. If two of them had not remained idling on the street as the long moments crept by, he would have believed that they had given him the slip, that he was now a cat watching a deserted mouse hole.

They did not try to heave the unconscious captive into the boat, merely kept the lolling head above water as they turned downstream once more and vanished from Raf's sight around the end of a pier, while the second party on the bank reclaimed the now quiet box and went off. But Raf had seen enough to freeze him where he was for a moment.

But Dalgard measured sand, sun, and sky, watching the mermen sporting in the waves but for him Astra was enough. He wanted nothing but this land, this world. There was nothing which drew him back. He would try to locate the spacer for the sake of the stranger; Astra owed Raf all they could manage to give him.

Colina Gaviller she moch friends with Michel Trudeau for because he was bring her in on his raf las' fall. "Often she go with him lak she go with me. Michel carry her up on his sledge, and she hunt aroun' while he visit his traps. Michel trap up on the bench three mile from the fort. He not get much fur so near, but live home in a warm house, and work for day's wages for John Gaviller."

The party threaded their way from one narrow lane to another, seeming to avoid the wider open stretches of the principal thoroughfares, Raf became aware of an unpleasant odor in the air which he vaguely associated with water, and a few minutes afterward he caught glimpses of the river between the buildings which fronted on it.

But at the moment they were coming back, carrying something. Raf leaned as far over the parapet as he dared, trying to catch a better look at the flat, boxlike object two of them had deposited on the pavement. Whatever it was either needed some adjustment or they were attempting to open it with poor success, for they had been busied about it for what seemed an unusually long time.

Again the army establishment was in the middle of nowhere, flat empty barren desert all around; we knew where the RAF station was located because we could see the planes just as they appeared or disappeared below the horizon but we could not see any of the buildings.

Raf, remembering the maze of lanes and streets bordered by buildings which could provide hundreds of lurking places for attackers which he had threaded with the confidence of ignorance earlier that day, began to realize why the aliens had been so nervous.

On their way to the building with the curved roof, Raf had noted the evidences that the inhabitants of this metropolis could not be reckoned as more than a handful and that most of these now lived either within the central building or close to it. A pitiful collection of survivors lingering on in the ruins of their past greatness.

Tense, the four spacemen stood watching the graceful movements of the flyer. There were no visible portholes or openings anywhere along its ovoid sides. It might be a robot-controlled ship, it might be anything, Raf thought, even a bomb of sorts. If it was being flown by some human or nonhuman flyer, he was a master pilot. "I don't understand," Soriki moved impatiently.