"We must have been carried in here by the scientists," said Adam rationally. "Maybe they left it outside."
That was logical. But he'd had a death-grip on the handle when he fell asleep, just as he always did. He looked at them all again. He went from wall to wall, kicking the straw. Then he scowled at the sand box, the only place a thing that size could be stashed away. He was suddenly on his knees, tossing sand left and right.
Avoiding certain places, he checked the pile. Nothing! Not a scrap of leather or a piece of green paper!
"If you are through," said Villa heavily, "I wish to use the box."
"Go ahead, Viva." Watkins walked across the room, groping for a cigarette, then remembering he had none left. "What happened out there?" he asked loudly. "Were we doped? Something in the chickens?"
"We were awake for a long time after we ate," said Adam. "Not even these people could make a drug act on six of us in the same minute, after that long; too many differences in metabolism. If that's the word I want."
"They weren't even in the room when we dropped off," said Mrs. Full.
That was a tip-off. Watkins momentarily forgot his great loss. "They left, and in a minute, we were asleep. They must have pumped some sort of gas into the lab. Sleep gas."
"Is there such a thing?" asked Cal. "An anesthetic vapor that would permeate such a large place so quickly?"