Lord, he thought; what was that thing? Could it have been the dominant life form?
He switched out the floodlights, reset the alarm. His first exultation at finding a habitable and inhabited world began to give way to a gnawing distrust.
Suddenly the darkness appeared malignant, concealing hosts of savage brute-men, unguessable horrors. There was the feel of movement out there. He heard something grunt and thrash in the underbrush followed by a squealing noise like a stuck pig.
He shivered, glanced at the photo-electric chronometer.
The sun had set at nine hours, Earth time, he saw. It was fifteen o'clock now. He had ascertained the rotation of the planet while still out in space and knew it wouldn't be light for three hours yet.
He set himself to the task that had occupied him during every leisure moment since the warp had hurled the Mizar beyond the known regions of space—charting the stars in an effort to locate himself.
But he couldn't concentrate. He kept listening subconsciously for any untoward sound of the world outside.
His real name was Jones RV860-09-34271. The Jupiter had been pinned on because he had been marooned once on that planet for three months and had lived to tell about it.
There were two things which Jupiter especially didn't like. He didn't like men; and he didn't like women.