Then the wall began to glide noiselessly and smoothly to the left, and
he scuttled back to the knot of them, looking over his shoulder.

The entire wall slid sideways and vanished, leaving an open end to the
room through which Summersby could see a number of large structures that
seemed to be machinery, painted various colors. There was no sign of
movement. He wondered, in a quiet, detached way, what sort of people
might be out there.

"It sounded big," said the blond man again, and looked up at Summersby.

"I am six feet five," said Summersby bleakly. "Whoever it is will have
to go some to top me."

* * * * *

An unknown thing moved beyond the room with a brief shuffling sound and
then a hand came in through the open end. It was on an arm with a wrist
the thickness of Summersby's biceps, an arm two yards long with no
indication that it might not be even longer. The hand itself was a foot
and a half broad, with a prehensile thumb at either side. Summersby did
not notice how many fingers it had. The backs of the fingers and the
whole great arm were covered with a thick gray-black thatch of coarse
hair, and the naked palm was gun-metal gray. Between one thumb and
finger it held a long green rod that was tipped by an ivory-colored
ball.

There was no sign of anyone looking in, only the incredible arm and
hand.

[Illustration]

The others cried out and drew together. Summersby stood still, watching
the hand. It poked the stick forward in short jabs, once just missing
his head. Then it made a wide sweep and the stick collided with the fat
Mexican. He squealed, and at once the hand shot forward, exposing still
more of the thick arm, and prodded him away from the group. He skipped
toward a far corner, but the stick had him now and was tapping him
relentlessly toward the open end.

"_Amigos!_" he yelled, his voice full of anguish. "_Por favor_, save
me!"

"Go along with it peaceably," advised the Negro youth frightenedly.
"Don't get it annoyed." He was shaking and his glasses kept sliding down
his sweaty nose so that he had to push them up continually.

"What is it?" the woman was asking, over and over.

The Mexican was driven to the edge of the room. The place beyond seemed
to be much larger than their prison. He waved his hands despairingly.

"Now, quick, you have only a _momentito_ to save me! Don't _stand_
there!"

The stick touched him and he jumped as if he had been sho