Then he heard a very small sneeze. Out of a rolling wall of
still-roiling dust, Murgatroyd appeared forlornly. He was
dust-covered, and draggled, and his tail dropped, and he sneezed
again. He moved as if he could barely put one paw before another, but
at sight of Calhoun he sneezed yet again and said "_Chee!_" in a
disconsolate voice. Then he sat down and waited for Calhoun to come
and pick him up.

When Calhoun did so, Murgatroyd clung to him pathetically and said
"_Chee-chee!_" and again "_Chee-chee!_" with the intonation of one
telling of incredible horrors and disasters endured. And as a matter
of fact the escape of a small animal like Murgatroyd was remarkable.
He'd escaped the trampling hoofs of at least hundreds of charging
animals. Luck must have played a great part in it, but an hysterical
agility in dodging must have been required, too.

Calhoun headed back for the valley where the settlement had been, and
the Med Ship was. Murgatroyd clung to his neck. The girl Maril
followed discouragedly. She was at that age when girls--and men of
corresponding type--can grow most passionately devoted to ideals or
causes in default of a promising personal romance. When concerned with
such causes they become splendidly confident that whatever they decide
to do is sensible if only it is dramatic. But Maril was shaken, now.

Calhoun did not speak to her again. He led the way. A mile back toward
the mountains, they began to see stragglers from the now-vanished
herd. A little farther, those stragglers began to notice them. It
would have been a matter of no moment if they'd been domesticated
dairy cattle, but these were range cattle gone wild. Twice, Calhoun