HE FELT SOME MAD CONCEIT that this was death ... that the restless fingers of the gray unalive plucked at his arm, bidding him rise and stir forward toward he knew not what.
Then suddenly he was awake, alive, and conscious—and it was not death, but life; fingers did tug at him, but they were the figures of—
“‘Ranies!” cried Chip. “Hands off, you! Or—”
The green complexioned native growled some guttural comment, moved closer rather than away, and pinioned Chip’s arms to his sides. Chip saw, now, that the Chickadee, though battered and broken beyond hope of repair, had miraculously grounded without destroying them all. For Syd was stirring, and Salvation, too, but each of them was surrounded by green natives, as was Chip. These creatures, the nearest approach to Man’s physiology that had
