"No. Before we seared half of them, the rest would have melted us into grease. Besides, fire won't work with them. It will only multiply our enemies."
A warning cry came from Alf.
"They're behind us, too!"
Mick glanced down the gulley. A moving forest was circling the bend. The Ngyes seemed to progress with an amoebic motion, as if their roots tugged them along over the loosely packed soil.
"Quick, Alf! Take Ghor's arm. We can jump for it!"
As Mick shouted, he seized Ghor's right arm. Alf took the left arm of the asteroid man. The three shot upward into the air, propelled by the earth-born strength of the spacemen. The ground where they stood a moment before turned red beneath a shower of tiny radioactive pellets.
As they shot into the sunlit sky, their eyes saw Ngyes on all sides. They lined the valley. The cornfield was ablaze with light as the budded plants and hybrid maize battled for existence. Even the rocks above the gulley sprouted hundreds of the swaying stems.
"We're in for it," Mick said. "Wherever we land, we'll be in a patch of them. We'd better shut off our telephones and try to slip through—"
"No! Our steps on the soil will be sensed by the roots. We'd never walk a dozen yards. But you might make it by jumping—"