Someone tittered.
Matt could feel himself getting red. His neck swelled. Then his sense of humor came to his rescue, and he roared, slapping his thighs. He couldn't have done anything that would have disconcerted Lynn more.
She flushed darkly and slung the camera about her neck. "Nevertheless, I'm going along."
Matt shrugged. "Fine, we can use you as a guard."
The director said helplessly, "Very well, Miss Clark, but don't stray from the party."
Then he shook hands all around and bade them be careful once more. It gave Matt an odd feeling. They were acting as if they were preparing to explore a strange alien planet instead of Earth.
It was a queer homecoming in more ways than one, he reflected soberly.
The little party of five men and a girl made their way cautiously down the valley. They were all armed with high powered rifles except the girl, and she had her automatic. They didn't talk much.
The rain had stopped and a warm spring sun beat down relentlessly. Matt began to sweat. He was conscious of birds among the scrub pine and oak cloaking the hillsides. They were familiar birds—robins and sparrows.