n in the air.

They were perhaps two hundred feet from the ship when a blast-rifle
crashed and its bolt whined past Calhoun so close that he felt the
monstrous heat. There had been no challenge. There was no warning.
There was simply a shot which came horribly close to ending Calhoun's
career in a completely arbitrary fashion.

* * * * *

4

Five minutes later Calhoun had located one would-be killer behind a
mass of splintered planking that once had been a wall. He set the wood
afire by a blaster-bolt and then viciously sent other bolts all around
the man it had sheltered when he fled from the flames. He could have
killed him ten times over, but it was more desirable to open
communication. So he missed intentionally.

Maril had cried out that she came from Dara and had word for them, but
they did not answer. There were three men with heavy-duty
blast-rifles. One was the one Calhoun had burned out of his hiding
place. That man's rifle exploded when the flames hit it. Two remained.

One, so Calhoun presently discovered--was working his way behind
underbrush to a shelf from which he could shoot down at Calhoun.
Calhoun had dropped into a hollow and pulled Maril to cover at the
first shot. The second man happily planned to get to a point where he
could shoot him like a fish in a barrel.

The third man had fired half a dozen times and then disappeared.
Calhoun estimated that he intended to get around to the rear, hoping
there was no protection from that direction for Calhoun. It would take
some time for him to manage it.

So Calhoun industriously concentrated his fire on the man trying to
get above him. He was behind a boulder, not too dissimilar to
Calhoun's breastwork. Calhoun set fire to the brush at the point at
which the other man aimed. That, then, made his effort useless.

Then Calhoun sent a dozen bolts at the other man's rocky shield. It
heated up. Steam rose in a whitish mass and blew directly away from
Calhoun. He saw that antagonist flee. He saw him so clearly that he
was positive that there was a patch of blue pigment on the right-hand
side of the back of his neck.

He grunted and swung to find the third. That man moved through thick
undergrowth, and Calhoun set it on fire in a neat pattern of spreading
flames. Evidently, these men had had no training in battle tactics
with blast-rifles. The third man also had to get away. He did. But
something from him arched