primitive savages and they
want somebody to come and take them away."

"It mustn't be permitted!" said Captain Moggs firmly. "The ship must be
examined! In our modern world, with the military situation what it
is...."

Soames looked at her ironically.

* * * * *

He had metal scraps in his hand, those he'd picked up to examine as a
savage might examine sawdust. There was a threadlike extension of metal
from one scrap. He twisted it off and put it on his sleeve. He struck a
light with his cigarette lighter. He touched it to the fibre of metal.
There was a burst of flame. His sleeve was singed.

"Mostly magnesium," he said detachedly. "It's possible that they don't
think of fire as a danger. They may not use fire any more. We don't
light our houses with open flames any longer. They may not use flames at
all. But I'm a savage. I do."

He sorted through the bits of silvery metal. Another morsel had a
wire-like projection. He saw the boy with the green tunic laying
something on the snow, from the ship to the tripod.

"A power-line," he said appalled. "They've got to signal nobody knows
how far, with nobody can guess how much power in the signal. And they
use power-leads the size of sewing-thread! But of course the people who
built this ship would have superconductors!" Then he said, "I may be
committing suicide, but I think I ought to, rather than let ..."

He moved forward. His throat was dry. He struck his lighter and touched
the flame to the thread of metal on the second scrap. It flared. He
threw the whole piece just as all the flammable alloy caught fire. In
mid-air it became a ball of savage white incandescence that grew larger
and fiercer as it flew. It was a full yard in diameter when it fell upon
the dented case the boys had brought here.

That burst into flame. The new-made tripod caught. Flame leaped thirty
feet into the air. Soames was scorched and blinded by the glare. Then
the fire died swiftly and snow-white ash-particles drifted down on every
hand.

The boy in the brown tunic cried out fiercely. He held out his hand with
the thing that had cut metal glittering in it.

Soames faced the fourteen-year-old grimly. The boy's face was contorted.
There was more than anger in it. The boy in the green tunic clenched and
unclenched his hands. His expression was purest horror. One of the girls
sobbed. The other spoke in a tone of despair so great and grief so acute
that Soame