Dane was shaken out of his absorption by another scream.  One, he was sure, which had not come from any Salariki throat.  He got to his feet.  Rip was stationed four men beyond him.  Yes, the tall Astrogator-apprentice was there, outlined against torch flare.  Ali?  No—­there was the assistant Engineer.  Weeks?  But Weeks was picking his way back along the reef toward the shore, haste expressed in every line of his figure.  The scream sounded for a second time, freezing the Terrans.

“Come back—!” That was Weeks gesturing violently at the shore and something floundering in the protecting circle of the reef.  The younger Salariki who had been feeding the fire were now clustered at the water’s edge.

Ali ran and with a leap covered the last few feet, landing reckless knee deep in the waves.  Dane saw light strike on his rod as he swung it in a wide arc to center on the struggle churning the water into foam.  A third scream died to a moan and then the Salariki dashed into the sea, their nets spread, drawing back with them through the surf a dark and now quiet mass.

The fact that at least one gorp had managed to get on the inner side of the reef made an impression on the rest of the native hunters.  After an uncertain minute or two Groft gave the signal to withdraw—­which they did with grisly trophies.  Dane counted seven gorp bodies—­which did not include the prisoner ashore.  And more might have slid into the sea to die.  On the other hand two Salariki were dead—­one had been drawn into the sea before Dane’s eyes—­and at least one was badly wounded.  But who had been pulled down in the shallows—­some one sent out from the Queen with a message?

Dane raced back along the reef, not waiting to pull up his torch, and before he reached the shore Rip was overtaking him.  But the man who lay groaning on the sand was not from the Queen.  The torn and bloodstained tunic covering his lacerated shoulders had the I-S badge.  Ali was already at work on his wounds, giving temporary first aid from his belt kit.  To all their questions he was stubbornly silent—­either he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.

In the end they helped the Salariki rig three stretchers.  On one the largest, the captive gorp, still curled in a round carapace protected ball, was bound with the net.  The second supported the wounded Salarik clansman and onto the third the Terrans lifted the I-S man.

“We’ll deliver him to his own ship,” Rip decided.  “He must have tailed us here as a spy—­” He asked a passing Salarik as to where they could find the Company spacer.

“They might just think we are responsible,” Ali pointed out.  “But I see your point.  If we do pack him back to the Queen and he doesn’t make it, they might say that we fired his rockets for him.  All right, boys, let’s up-ship—­he doesn’t look too good to me.”

With a torch-bearing Salarik boy as a guide, they hurried along a path taking in turns the burden of the stretcher.  Luckily the I-S ship was even closer to the sea than the Queen and as they crossed the slagged ground, congealed by the break fire, they were trotting.