Jim whispered: “Ren?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. Something struck me. Then somebody, something was carrying me. Men! I heard their voices. I tried to scream; a hand went over my mouth. I knew we were captured. I thought—”
“Hush! Not so loud! They’re here . . . with us now.”
“I know. They were talking a while ago. They—hear them now, Jim?”
Low, gutteral voices sounded back there—the brute men. The brains, the balloon heads, were talking also, low, suave voices in a foreign tongue.
“Jim! Jim, one of these men here in the boat with us—” Ren’s voice held a quiver of fear. “He’s, Jim, I can receive thoughts now . . . like Dolores did from a distance. It seemed, just a little while ago, that I was getting Len’s thoughts. He was triumphant, exulting over something. But it was gone. Then I—”
“You get the thoughts of someone here in the boat?”
“Yes. I guess so. Someone . . . the thought came to me that he called himself Talon. I just now got it again. Talon. He’s been studying thoughts from me. Putting them into my language. He’s doing it now. It’s very easy for him, studying my thoughts, our words . . . my words to you now. He can understand them.”