Jonathan Fawkes fidgeted uncomfortably. He would rather pilot a space ship through a meteor field than face twenty-seven young women. They were the only thing in the Spaceways of which he was in awe. Then he realized that the girl's dark blue eyes had strayed beyond him. A frown of concentration marred her regular features. He turned around.
On the rim of the prairie he saw a dozen black specks moving toward them.
She said: "Get down!" Her voice was agitated. She flung herself on her stomach and began to crawl away from the wreck. Jonathan Fawkes stared after her stupidly. "Get down!" she reiterated in a furious voice.
He let himself to his hands and knees. "Ouch!" he said. He felt like he was being jabbed with pins. He must be one big bruise. He scuttled after the girl. "What's wrong?"
The girl looked back at him over her shoulder. "Centaurs!" she said. "I didn't know they had returned. There is a small ravine just ahead which leads into the hills. I don't think they've seen us. If we can reach the hills we'll be safe."
"Centaurs! Isn't there anything new under the sun?"
"Well, personally," she replied, "I never saw a Centaur until I was wrecked on this asteroid." She reached the ravine, crawled head foremost over the edge. Jonathan tumbled after her. He hit the bottom, winced, scrambled to his feet. The girl started at a trot for the hills. Jonathan, groaning at each step, hobbled beside her.
"Why won't the Centaurs follow us into the hills?" he panted.
"Too rough. They're like horses," she said. "Nothing but a goat could get around in the hills."