the puzzling fact that the communicator had stayed perfectly aimed
while it was picked up and squeaked at and destroyed. He had no
explanation for it. What he did have to tell was bad enough. She went
deathly pale, searching his face as he told her.

"But--but--" She swallowed. "He might have been hurt and--not killed.
He might be alive and in need of help. If there are creatures from
somewhere else, they might not realize that he could be unconscious
and not dead! He'd make sure about me! I--I'll go up and make sure
about him...."

Lockley hesitated. "It's not likely," he said carefully, "that he was
left there injured. But if you feel that somebody has to make sure,
I'll do it. For one thing, I can climb faster. My car is ditched back
yonder. You go and wait by it. At least it's farther from the lake and
you should be safer there. I'll make sure about Vale."

He explained in detail how she could find the car. Up this hillside to
a slash through the forest for a highway. Due south from an abandoned
bulldozer. Keep out of sight. Never show against a skyline.

She swallowed again. Then she said, "If he needs help, you could--do
more than I can. But I'll wait there where the woods begin. I can hide
if I need to, and I--might be of some use."

He realized that she deluded herself with the hope that he, Lockley,
might bring an injured Vale down the mountainside and that she could
be useful then. He let her. He went through the camp with her to put
her on the right track. He gave her the pocket radio, so she could
listen for news. When she went on out of sight in brushwood, he turned