afternoon that you
could hit a small target with that unwieldy club you invented. Let's
go."

Scotty took the lead, following the route he and Rick had explored the
night before. Rick followed close on his heels, and Zircon brought up
the rear. In spite of his bulk, the scientist was light-footed and
silent.

They reached a point where the boys had tied a rope to a boulder the
night before and now they paused to attach the rope ladder Rick carried.
It was one of four they had fashioned. Two already had been placed.
Zircon carried the last one. Scotty went down first, with Zircon
following cautiously.

The ropes creaked, but held. Zircon stepped to firm ground and Rick
followed down the ladder. They negotiated a bend in the trail, then
Scotty stopped and held up his hand.

Rick took Shannon's bow from the quiver. While he was getting ready,
Zircon made a last check with Tony and Chahda. When Rick signaled,
Scotty led the way down the last few dozen yards of steep lava to the
final shelf.

There, just out of sight of the guard, Scotty unslung his rifle. The
dark-haired boy went forward and peered over the edge of rock that
shielded them. For a long moment he surveyed the scene below, then
backed away. Rick caught his gesture. It was time.

He had planned how he would do this. He couldn't shoot in a lying-down
position, and kneeling would expose him to the guard just as surely as
standing upright would do--if the guard happened to be looking. So, he
would shoot while standing erect. His accuracy would be better that way.

Rick fitted the arrow's nock to the bowstring, got his fingers in
position to draw, and flexed the bow slightly. Then, taking a deep
breath, he stepped calmly forward to the edge of rock.

It took only three steps to bring him within sight of the guard. He had
a quick vision of a black velvet cap, hunched shoulders, and a rifle
held casually across the knees. He drew smoothly, held for the briefest
instant, and released the shaft.

Scotty was at his side, rifle ready, the moment the shaft left the bow.

It wasn't necessary. Rick had an instant's impression of sound, like a
baseball slapping into a catcher's mitt. The guard didn't even move from
his position. His shoulders slumped a little more and his head went
forward between his knees. He stayed that way. The arrow skittered
across the stone shelf and stopped.

Rick knew his aim had been a little off. The ball had caught the guard
behind