--" Instead of a demand, he now voiced a taunting cry, screaming
his defiance. Some wild madness had been transmitted to him by the
winds, the roaring sea, his own pain. Ready to face the worst they could
send against him, he tried to hurl that thought back at them as they had
struck with their united will at him. No answer came to his challenge,
no rise to counter-attack.

Moving away from the rock, Ross began to walk forward toward the burning
drift, his torch ready in his hand. "I am here!" he shouted into the
wind. "Come out--face me!"

It was then that he saw those who had tracked him. Two tall thin
figures, wearing dark clothes, were standing quietly watching him, their
eyes dark holes in the white ovals of their faces.

Ross halted. Though they were separated by yards of sand and rock and a
burning barrier, he could feel the force they wielded. The nature of
that force had changed, however. Once it had struck with a vigorous
spear point; now it formed a shield of protection. Ross could not break
through that shield, and they dared not drop it. A stalemate existed
between them in this strange battle, the like of which Ross's world had
not known before.

He watched those expressionless white faces, trying to find some reply
to the deadlock. There flashed into his mind the certainty that while he
lived and moved, and they lived and moved, this struggle, this unending
pursuit, would continue. For some mysterious reason they wanted to have
him under their control, but that was never going to happen if they all
had to remain here on this strip of water-washed sand until they starved
to death! Ross tried to drive that thought across to them.

"Murrrrdock!" That croaking cry borne out of the sea by the wind might
almost have come from the bill of a sea bird.

"Murrrrdock!"

Ross spun around. Visibility had been drastically curtailed by the
lowering clouds and the dashing spray, but he could see a round dark
thing bobbing on the waves. The sub? A raft?

Sensing a movement behind him, Ross wheeled about as one of the alien
figures leaped the blazing drift, heedless of the flames, and ran
light-footedly toward him in what could only be an all-out attempt at
capture. The man had ready a weapon like the one that had felled Foscar.
Ross threw himself at his opponent in a reckless dive, falling on him
with a smashing impact.

In Ross's grasp the alien's body was fragile, but he moved fluidly as
Murdock fought to brea