eyond his resources, but it was
his own counterattack.

So now he had to play a role. Not only must he search the island for the
trace of his spy, but he must do it in such a fashion that his purpose
would not be plain to the enemy he suspected. The wolverines could help.
Shann arose, allowed his shoulders to droop, slouching to the slope with
all the air of a beaten man which he could assume, whistling for Taggi
and Togi.

When they came, his exploration began. Ostensibly he was hunting for
lengths of drift or suitable growing saplings to take the place of those
he had destroyed under orders. But he kept a careful watch on the animal
pair, hoping by their reactions to pick up a clue to any hidden watcher.

The larger of the two beaches marked the point where the Terrans had
first landed and where the shell thing had been killed. The smaller was
more of a narrow tongue thrust out into the lagoon, much of it choked
with sizable boulders. On earlier visits there Taggi and Togi had poked
into the hollows among these with their usual curiosity. But now both
animals remained upslope, showing no inclination to descend to the water
line.

Shann caught hold of Taggi's scruff, pulling him along. The wolverine
twisted and whined, but he did not fight for freedom as he would have
upon scenting Throg. Not that the Terran had ever believed one of those
aliens was responsible for the happenings on the island.

Taggi came down under Shann's urging, but he was plainly ill at ease.
And at last he snarled a warning when the man would have drawn him
closer to two rocks which met overhead in a crude semblance of an arch.
There was a stick of drift protruding from that hollow affording Shann a
legitimate excuse to venture closer. He dropped his hold on the
wolverines, stooped to gather in the length of wood, and at the same
time glanced into the pocket.

Water lay just beyond, making this a doorway to the lagoon. The sun had
not yet penetrated into the shadow, if it ever did. Shann reached for
the wood, at the same time drawing his finger across the flat rock which
would furnish a steppingstone for anything using that door as an
entrance to the island.

Wet! Which might mean his visitor had recently arrived, or else merely
that a splotch of spray had landed there not too long before. But in his
mind Shann was convinced that he had found the spy's entrance. Could he
turn it into a trap? He added a piece of drift to his bundle and pic