ff's leg
and dropped the pencil into the open palm.

"Smart punks up at State College. So you can't teach a rat anything
but mazes and how to go nuts from electric shocks, eh? Wouldn't they
be surprised to meet you, John?"

"Hungrih!"

"You're always hungry!"

"Meat! Meat!"

"Yeah. You can sound your "e's" real good when you say, 'meat.' Some
day I'll cut off your tail and feed it to you." He laughed, grabbed
John by the coarse hair of his back and slipped him back under the
cage.

Then he undressed down to his underwear, turned out the light and lay
on the narrow iron bed. John rustled in his cage for a minute, then
there was only the faint hum of the blower and sucker motors in the
ventilating system. The incoming and outgoing air was baffled and
trapped to kill sounds, and spring-loaded sliding doors poised to jam
shut and seal off the room if anyone tampered with the exterior
grilles in the roof.

The fans hummed softly and Erd Neff slept.

_Sleck-thud, sleck-thud!_

* * * * *

He was awake pawing the wall for the light switch, but even as his
hand found it, and his eyes discovered the closed ventilator doors, a
reddish vapor sank over his body. A single gasp and Neff was clawing
his throat. Sharp, brown-tasting, acid-burning, eye-searing,
nose-stinging!

He fell to his knees and clawed to the far corner, fighting for air,
but the acrid stink stained his throat and nose. His eyes kept
burning. The whole room must be full!

The door-lever! No, that's what they wanted. Blind! Gun's no good now.
God, for a breath of air! Damned tears! Can't open my eyes! Air! _Got
to have it!_

His throat refused to open. The stink, a little like iodine, a lot
like a hospital smell but a million times stronger--raked at the
tender tissues of his throat. Icepicks stabbed from his soft palate,
up into his brain, his temples. He swayed against the door, caught the
lever and heaved convulsively. The door fell away slowly. He stumbled
forward, gashing his knee against the sharp jamb.

A light struck redly through his clenched, tear-soaked eye-lids.

"That did it. Get the gun!" The voice was high, almost girlish. A
young boy?

A slightly heavier voice said, "Got it. Keep an eye on him while I
find out why the fan stopped working."

"He's going no place. You were right. That bromine stuff really did
the business. Lookit his face. Sure it won't kill him?"

"Don't care if it does now. We