The fourth night after the Hawk had met his friends at Ban Wilson’s was sunless and Jupiter-less, nor was there the slightest breath of wind; and in the humid, dank jungle surrounding on three sides the isuan ranch of the Venusian Lar Tantril the sounds of night-prowling animals burst full and loud, making an almost continuous babel of varied and savage noise.

In the midst of this dark inferno, Tantril’s ranch was an island of stillness.  Within the high guarding fence, the long low buildings lay quiet and were [illegible] brushed periodically by the light from the watch-beacon high overhead as it swept its shaft over the jungle smother and then around over the black glassy surface of the Great Briney Lake, bordering the ranch enclosure on the fourth side.  And, vigilantly, the eyes of three Venusian guards followed the ray.

They stood on the three lookout towers which reared at equal intervals up above the circumference of the ranch; and though the buildings below seemed deserted, in reality wide-awake men were stationed at posts within them, waiting for the clang of the alarm which the pressing of a button in any one of the lookout towers would effect.  Lar Tantril’s ranch was not asleep.  It was as alert and wary as the beasts tracking through the jungle outside its fence, and all its defensive and offensive weapons were at the ready.

No one within the ranch knew it, but within two hundred yards lay the foe Lar Tantril and his men feared most.

Regularly around the watch-beacon swept, slicing the blackness with an oval white finger, the farthest edge of which reached a hundred and fifty yards.  Over the “western” lake and its inky ripples sparkled somehow ominously.  Over the jungle’s confusion and trees, great bushes, spiky vines and creeper-growths leaped into momentary visibility, and then were again swallowed up in the tide of night.  Here a cutlas-beaked bird, spotlighted for an instant, froze into surprised immobility with the pasty, bloated worm it had seized twisting and dangling from its mouth, to flap squawking away as the ray glided on:  there the coils of a seekan, in ambush on a tree limb, glittered crimson for the sudden moment of illumination; or a nameless huge-eyed pantherlike creature was glimpsed as it clawed at a nest of unfledged haris, while the frantic, screaming mother beat at it with wings and claws....

But all this was usual and unalarming, merely the ordinary routine of the jungle at night.  Could the beacon have reached out another fifty yards, the guards on their towers would have seen that which was not usual and would have summoned every weapon of the ranch beneath.

Or could the guards have heard, besides the cries and crashings and yowls of the jungle folk, the man-made sounds which sped silently back and forth across the ranch within their tight and secret radio beams then, too, the alarm would have clanged.

Had the beacon suddenly stretched its path outward another fifty yards, it would have fallen upon a massive, leafy watrari tree, taller than most:  and the guards, looking close, might have caught in one notch of the tree’s many limbs a glint of metal:  might have seen, had the light held on that glint, a bloated monster of metal and fabric braced there, hiding behind a screen of leaves.

This giant, not native to the jungle, was posted due “north” from the ranch.  Another waited to the “south,” in a similarly large tree; and another to the “east.”

Hawk Carse and his friends were abroad again and waiting to strike.

Ban Wilson, hot, itching and uncomfortable inside the heavy space-suit that he wore, and supremely aware of his consequent awkwardness, watched the ranch’s beacon sweeping past him thirty or more yards away, and again sought relief from the tedium in conversation.

“Jupiter should be rising soon, Carse.  It’s the darkest hour seems to me he’ll come now if he comes at all.  What do you think?”

He was the one posted in a watrari tree “south” of Tantril’s ranch.  Flung on the tight beam of his helmet-radio, which had been tuned and adjusted by Eliot Leithgow so as to reach only two other radios, the words rang simultaneously in the receivers of Friday, who was “east” of the ranch, and Carse, who was “north.”

The Hawk responded curtly: 

“I don’t know when he’ll come; I suspect not before full morning.”

Ban Wilson grunted at receipt of this discouraging opinion, and then once more, as he had been doing regularly all through the night, raised to his eyes the instrument that hung by a cord from the neckpiece of the suit.  Through it he scanned slowly and methodically the portion of black heaven that had been assigned to him.  The instrument would have resembled a bulky pair of electro-binoculars with its twin tubes and eyepieces, had not there been, underneath the tubes, a small, compact box which by Leithgow-magic revealed the world through infra-red light by one tube, and ultra-violet the other.

“Nothing!” Ban muttered to himself, lowering the device.  “And damn Ku Sui for makin’ these space-suits so infernally uncomfortable!  Might as well have made ’em space-ships, while he was at it!...  Say, Carse,” he began again aloud into his microphone, “maybe Dr. Ku’s come already.  I know my men said no one had arrived at the ranch in a suit like these we’ve got on but, hell, if his whole asteroid’s invisible, why couldn’t he make his space-suit invisible, too?”

“I don’t think he’s done that.  Otherwise he would have ” The adventurer’s level tone raised incisively.  “Now, both of you, still!  Conceal yourselves with great care Jupiter’s rising!”

The “western” horizon, a moment before indistinguishable, was now faintly flushed, a flush which deepened quickly into glowing, riotous crimson, causing long streamers to shoot out over the surface of the Great Briney, tingling it, sparkling it.  The light reached the jungle:  and when the first faint reflected rays filtered down through the matted gloom of tree and vine and bush the creatures that had tracked for prey all night looked to their lairs:  and gradually, the tenor of the jungle noises waned off into a few last screams and muttered growls, and then died altogether into the heavy, brooding hush that comes always with dawn over the jungles of Satellite III.

Jupiter thrust his flaming arch upwards over the horizon, and climbed with his whole vast blood-blotched bulk into a sky turned suddenly blue.  Lake and jungle shimmered under the rapidly dissipating night vapors.  The ranch-beacon paled into unimportance.  Day had come.

And now the three bloated figures of metal and fabric that were men crouched closely back beneath the leaves of the trees that concealed them, and waited tensely, not daring at first to move for fear of discovery.  Each one could see, through the intervening growth, the watch-towers of the ranch; but Friday, from his post in the tree to the “east,” could see the area best, and it was Friday to whom Carse’s next words were addressed.

“Eclipse?” his terse voice asked.  “Do the guards in the towers seem to notice anything?”

The big Negro strained cautiously for a better view.

“No, suh, Cap’n Carse.  Sure they can’t see us at all.  Just pacin’ round on their towers, kind of fidgety.”

“Anyone else in sight?”

“No, suh....  Oh, now there’s somethin’.  Two of the guards are looking below, cupping their ears.  Someone down there must be tellin’ them somethin’.  Now they’re lookin’ up to the sky the northern sky.  Yes, suh!  All three of ’em!  They’re expectin’ someone, sure enough!”

“Good.  He must be coming.  Use your glasses.”

Then in all three trees the instruments that Eliot Leithgow had shaped were raised, and the whole sweep of horizon and the glowing, clear blue dome of sky subjected to minute inspection through their detecting infra-red and ultra-violet.  Ban Wilson, perhaps, stared most eagerly, for he had never seen Ku Sui’s asteroid, and despite himself still only half-believed that twenty craggy, twisted miles of rock could be swung as its master willed in space, and brought down bodily to Satellite III.

But he saw nothing in the sky; nothing looming gigantically over any part of the horizon; and he reported disgustedly: 

“Nothing doing anywhere.  Carse.”

“Don’t see nothing either, suh,” the Negro’s deep voice added.  And both of them heard the Hawk murmur: 

“Nor do I. But he must be Ah!  There!  Careful!  They’re coming!”

“Where?  Where is it?” yapped Ban excitedly, jerking the instrument to his eyes again.

“Speak low.  Not the asteroid.  Three men.”

For a tense minute there was silence between them, until, in a low, crisp voice, the Hawk added: 

“Three men in space-suits like ours, coming from the “north” straight for Tantril’s.  Ban, you may not be able to see them till they get to the ranch, so you keep hunting for the asteroid with your glasses.  Friday, you see them?”

“Yes, suh!  Three!  One ahead of the others!”

“Keep your eyes tight on them.  No talking now from either of you unless it’s important.”

The steely voice snapped off.  And carefully, in his tree, Hawk Carse brushed aside a fringe of leaves and concentrated on the three figures the dawn had brought.

Hard and sharp they glittered in the flood of ruddy light from Jupiter, great grotesque figures of metal and bulging fabric, with shining quarzite face-plates and the abnormally large helmets and boot-pieces which identified them as being of the enemy.  At a level fifty feet above the jungle’s crown they came in fast, horizontal transit, and there was much of beauty in the picture that they made sparkling shapes flying without sound or movement of limb against the blue sky, over the heaped colors of the jungle below.  One flew slightly in the lead, and he, the watching Hawk felt positive, was Ku Sui, and the other two his servants probably men whose brains had been violated, dehumanized mere machines in human form.

Straight in the three figures flew, without hesitation or swerving, closer and closer to the watching man in the tree.  The Hawk’s lips compressed as his old enemy neared, and into his watching gray eyes came the deadly cold emotionless look that was known and feared throughout space, wherever outlaws walked or flew.  Ku Sui so close!  There, in that even-gliding figure, was the author of the infamy done to Leithgow, of the crime to the brains that lived though their bodies were dead; of the organized isuan trade.  Go for him now?  The thought flashed temptingly through Carse’s head, but he saw sense at once.  Far too dangerous, with the powerful, watching ranch so close.  He could not jeopardize the success of his promise to the brains.

And so Dr. Ku Sui passed, while two pairs of eyes from two leafy trees watched closely every instant of his passing, and one man’s hand dropped unconsciously to the butt of a raygun.

Quickly, the Eurasian and his servitors were gone, their straight, steady flight obscured by the trees around Tantril’s ranch, below which they slanted.

Dr. Ku Sui had arrived at his assignation.  But where was the asteroid?

Through his instrument, Carse sought horizon and heaven for the massive body, but in vain.  He spoke into his helmet-radio’s mike.

“Ban?”

“Yes, Carse?”

“See the asteroid anywhere?”

“Nowhere, by Betelgeuse!  I’ve looked till my eyes ”

The Hawk cut him short.  “All right.  Stand by.  Friday?”

“Yes, suh?”

“Can you see anything special?”

“No, suh only that the three platform guards keep lookin’ down towards the center of the ranch.”

“Good.  That means Ku Sui’s being received,” said Carse; and then he considered swiftly for a minute.  Decided, he continued: 

“Ban and Friday, you both wait where you are, keeping a steady lookout.  None of us can see the asteroid, but it must be somewhere comparatively near, for Dr. Ku has no reason to bother with a long journey in a space-suit.  I think the asteroid’s close down, hidden by that distant ridge in the direction from which they came.  I’m going to find it.  When I do, I’ll tell you where to come meet me.  Inform me at once if Ku Sui leaves or if anything unusual happens.  Understood?”

The assenting voices rang back to him simultaneously.

“Right!” he said; and slowly his great bulging figure lifted.

Cautiously, the adventurer made through the watrari tree to the side facing away from the ranch.  There, poising for a second, he manipulated the lateral direction-rod on the suit’s chest, and, still very slowly, floated free from the shrouding leaves.  Then, mindful of the lookouts on the towers behind, he employed the tactics he had used before, and kept constantly below the uneven crown of the jungle, gliding at an easy rate through the leafy lanes created by the banked tree-tops.

In that fashion, in the upthrust arms of the jungle, twisting, turning, sometimes doubling, but following always a path the objective of which was straight ahead, Hawk Carse soared soundlessly for miles.  He maneuvered his way with practised ease, and his speed increased as the need for hiding his flight decreased.

He was familiar with the landmarks of the region, and it was towards the most pronounced of them that he flew.  Soon it was looming far above him:  a long, high ridge, rearing more than three miles above the level of the Great Briney, and crowded with trees even taller and sturdier than those of the lower jungle plains.  Beyond it was the most likely spot....

The Hawk paused at the base of the ridge.  There had been no warning from Ban or Friday, but, to make sure, he established radio connection.

“Friday?” he asked into the microphone.  “Any activity on the ranch?  Any sign they’re aware of our presence?”

Clear and deep from miles behind, the Negro’s voice answered: 

“No, suh.  Dead still.  I guess they’re inside the buildings except the guards, and they’re taking things easy.  Where are you, suh?”

“About ten miles from you, ‘north’ and a little ‘east,’ at the foot of the ridge.  I think I’ll know something soon now.  Stand by.”

Then Carse moved forward again, slowly winding up between the trees to the summit of the ridge.

At the top he stopped.  His eyes took in a long, wide valley, of which the ridge where he hung was the southernmost barrier.  He knew at once something was wrong.  Through his opened face-plate he was aware of a breathless hush that hovered over the valley, a hush which embraced its fifty miles or more of jungle length, a hush which was rendered actually visible in several places by the unmoving, limp-hanging leaves of the trees.  Below, in the valley, all the myriad life of the jungle seemed to have frozen, and only occasionally was the pause of life and sound disturbed by the faint, muffled cry of a bird.

What had wrought the hush?  Nothing showed to the naked eye.

From the summit of the ridge, Hawk Carse lifted Leithgow’s glasses to his eyes.  And the valley was suddenly changed, and the hush explained.  The miracle lay before him.