"The man from the satellite. Where is he?"
"Um," said Kunklin, sobering. "Where is he indeed?"
Prule pointed a lean finger at the near woods.
"There were explosions going on over there when we flew down. I suppose—" he fixed his eyes reproachfully on Kunklin—"they bombed him."
Kunklin shrugged. "The man came all the way up here. Really. You know, you have to admire these people, in more ways than one. I—"
He broke off.
For out of the woods, stumbling, holding his head in one hand and his colt .45 in the other, came the great battered figure of Web Hilton. He was scarred and bloody, one eye was closed and he walked with a heavy limp, but he was walking at least, and Kunklin brightened.
"Well by Jupiter, he made it!"
Prule smiled happily.
"We must have just got here in time. The Faktors were probably bombing him when they disappeared."