slipped through the doorway, and, standing with his back against the
wall, swung the light of his torch in a wide, swift arc about the room.
Halfway around, he stopped abruptly; a slim, petite figure appeared
clearly in the searchlight's glare. The girl he had seen on the
televisor stood in the middle of the room, facing a telecaster, her
back toward him. She did not seem aware of him as he moved forward.
What could be wrong; surely that light would arouse her.

The figure did not turn as he approached. So near was he now that he
could seize her easily, still she made no move. Nat stepped to one
side, flashed his torch in her face. Her beautifully-lashed eyes stared
straight ahead unblinkingly; the expression on her lovely composed face
did not change. A robot! He laughed bitterly. But then, he was not the
only one....

She was an earth product; Nat opened her helmet and found the
trade-mark of _Spurgin's Robots_ hung like a necklace about her throat.
But whoever had lured him here easily could have removed her from one
of the vessels in the front cave. It did not seem like the work of
pirates, more likely unknown intelligent beings.

He turned to examine the televisor. It, too, was an earth product. The
mechanism was of old design; evidently it had been taken from the first
of the ships to land here. Outside of the telecaster and the solitary
robot, there was nothing to be seen in this cave.

A sound behind him. He whirled, heat-rod poised for swift, stabbing
action. Nothing--except--small bowling-ball things rolling in through
a narrow door. Ridiculous things of the same yellowish-quartz material
as composed the cave-walls. At regular intervals a dull, bluish light
poured forth from rounded holes in their smooth sides. And issuing
forth from within these comic globes was the same weird, compelling
music he had heard before. They rolled up to him, brushed against his
toes; a shrilling in his brain told him that Digger was aware of them.

"Back, Digger!" he thought as he drew away from the globes. They poured
their penetrating blue light over him, inspectingly, while the music
from within rose and fell in regular cadences, sweetly impelling and
dulling to the senses as strong oriental incense.

But Digger was not soothed. The spacehound lunged at one of the globes;
instead of slashing its sides, he found himself sailing through the
air toward it. Nat received impressions of irritation combined with
astonishment.