But the Prowler didn't get him. Nothing happened at all. Surprised, he sat up and spun around, crouching.
The ship had landed, almost at the edge of the plateau and a man was tumbling out of the port. The Prowler had changed his course, was galloping toward the ship.
The man from the ship ran in leaping bounds, a pistol in one gloved hand, and his yelp of terror rang in Meek's earphones.
"Run, dang you. Run! That dad-blamed Prowler will be after us any minute now."
"Stiffy," yelled Meek. "Stiffy, you came out to get me."
Stiffy landed beside him, hauled him to his feet.
"Dang right I came to get you," he panted. "I thought them hoodlums would be up to some dirty tricks, so I stuck around and watched."
He jerked at Meek's arm.
"Come on, Oliver, we got to get along."
But Meek jerked his arm away.