"What is it? What's wrong out there?"
"It was a cow!"
"A cow?"
"A wild cow. It charged us—or whatever cows do."
"It was a bull," corrected Howes, the archaeologist. "I—I think it got Pendergrast."
A dead silence met Howes' words. Matt glanced over the heads in the crowded passage. "Pendergrast here?"
There wasn't any answer.
From the ground below came a snort and the sound of crashing brush.
Matt pushed to the port. He could see nothing through the blackness and the rain. "Pendergrast!" he called. "Pendergrast!"
Only the endlessly dripping rain could be heard.