nees, looking at the
remains. The man looked up and met Ed's eyes. He nodded casually and
walked over to the second thing, prodded it with his toe. After a long
moment he nodded again to Ed, smiled briefly, and winked out.

Ed stared at the empty air where the other man had been, mouth open. It
was just a little too much. A lot of things had happened to him in the
last few days, he had been able to take most of them more or less as
they came along, but after all, he wasn't a chicken any more, he was
pushing sixty, and there is a limit to what a man should have to put up
with at that age. The thought of his snug cabin, with a good fire going,
moosemeat bubbling in the pot, the gas lantern hissing, and the bottle
of Hudson's Bay rum he had tucked under the eaves against just such an
occasion as this, was suddenly very appealing.

Besides, it was getting late, and he didn't think he cared to be
stumbling around this world in the dark.

He elbowed his pack up, hooked the left shoulder strap, and headed for
home, staying off the trail in ordinary caution and watching his
footing, but moving pretty fast just the same.

Actually, he need not have been so careful.

The Harn had been surprised and shocked by the explosive violence of the
man's reaction to a routine harvesting maneuver. It was a relatively
young Harn, but it retained memories of its own world, where there were
also nasty, violent things which killed Harn. It was not pleasant to
think that it might have evoked some such monster in this hitherto
peaceful place.

Then, to top that, there had been the sudden appearance of the Warden.
The Harn, of course, saw the Warden not as a man, but in its true
aspect, which was not at all friendly.

All in all, this did not seem the moment to start any new adventures.
The Harn pulled in all its mobile units, including the stinger it had
left at the hole into the other world. It huddled protectively together
in its nest, considering these new developments.

* * * * *

By ten that evening, Ed, in conference with old Tom and the bottle of
Hudson's Bay, had done considerable hard thinking, pro and con.

Of course, he didn't _have_ to go into the other world, just because the
hole was there. He could block it off, seal it up with timbers and
forget it.

He sat there and thought about this, absently smoothing the strange fur
on his knee. For an old-timer like himself, things weren't too hot