Then he saw one of them, an exact duplicate of his captive, running from bush to bush about fifty feet from the ship. A few steps behind him was another. Two more nearby scrambled over an immense boulder and scurried into the brush. Another five were emerging, like a patrol of midgets, from a ravine to the north of the cabin.
"Be sensible, you idiot!" snarled the thing in the crate. "I'm giving you this final chance. Unlock this contrivance, and all will be well with you. I'll speak on your behalf."
"So you can lead your buddies right back here? Sure," said Granger, "that's all I'd have to do to finish myself off in a real hurry."
"Do as I say!" yelled the alien. "For your own sake!"
"Look," panted Granger, "I know I was crazy to fool with you in the first place, but now that you're here and they're outside, you're staying, see?"
He reached under the lumpy pile of cotton that served as a mattress and pulled out his .30-30 rifle. Little Boy Blue and his pop gun, he thought. He grabbed a handful of cartridges from a box under the bed and began jamming them into the magazine.
"That will be of no use, my friend," droned a hollow voice behind him.
Granger spun himself around just as a pane of glass in the window flew to pieces under the impact of a short, shiny gun barrel. A perfect reproduction of the face of the creature in the cage centered itself in the jagged frame of the broken window and gave him the shadow of a smile that was closer to a victorious leer.
"Put down your weapon," the newcomer ordered coldly.