The One was rippling slowly up the ridge. Pritchard guessed Its speed was greater than it seemed at that distance. Like a scarlet river, It poured steadily up.
"After I've used this," said Cornelia in an even, conversational voice, "you gentlemen can have it if you don't mind having to pull it out of me." She held up her long knife, and there was no expression on her face.
Kemp and Sturgis could only stare at her. Pritchard couldn't warn her by asking them to take it away from her, and anyway this was no place for a wrestle.
"And why do you think we would want that?" he asked in as pleasant a tone as he could manage.
"So much better than a flamer or jumping," she replied. "Take my advice and—"
"I wish you would pull yourself together," said Pritchard. "You're frightening Kemp up there."
Startled, Kemp stared back down at his chief, and then he closed his mouth in a firm line. Pritchard congratulated himself that the remark was a stone that had slain two birds.
"You don't honestly think there's a way out of this," exclaimed Cornelia, "with—with—"
"What I wouldn't give for my snapper!" breathed Kemp.
"Or one of those five-inchers," and Sturgis jerked his head at the little tumbled beetles over at the river.