He believed in sparing his host as much physical damage as possible but knew that ignorance was seldom very helpful, so he now explained the situation completely to the boy.

"This is about the first time I've really been sorry I could do nothing about the pain without injuring your nervous system, or, rather, risking injury to it," he concluded. "This will hurt, I know. I will have to pull your muscle tissue away from the stick while you pull your leg out. I will try to tell you when and how much to pull."

Bob's face was pale, even though the alien was holding his blood pressure up. "Right now I think I'd take the chance of damage, if you were willing," he said.

The Hunter realized in a dim fashion just how much the youngster was standing, and decided some help was needed. "As a last resort, Bob, I will do it," he said. "Please try to hold on, though, for even if my work on your nerves does no permanent damage, it will interfere with your ability to control your leg at the moment; and I cannot possibly lift your leg out of this hole myself."

"All right; let's get it over with."

The Hunter set to work, forcing as much as possible of his body material around the splintery stick to prevent further tearing of his host's flesh as it was. withdrawn. Bit by bit, tight-lipped with pain, Bob withdrew his kg, pulling when the Hunter indicated it was safe, waiting when he had to. It took many minutes, but at last the job was done.

Even Bob, knowing what he did, was a little startled at seeing his trouser leg stained only with dirt. He was going to roll up the cloth to see the injury, but the Hunter stopped him.

"A little later, if you must; but right now lie down and rest for a few minutes. I know you don't feel the need of it, but I assure you it is advisable."

Bob realized the alien probably knew what he was talking about and complied. By rights he should have fainted, for will power means nothing in the face of such an injury, but he did not, thanks to his guest; and as he relaxed obediently, he thought.

Things had been happening just a little too fast for Bob, but it was dawning on him that the events of the last half-hour had followed with remarkable fidelity the outline he and the Hunter had discussed, half-jokingly, just before they started-an outline based on one particular contingency. And even he was impressed by the coincidence.

To THE HUNTER, who had examined in detail both the bones of the unfortunate Tip and 'the splintered stick which had injured his own host so badly, the whole thing was coincidence. It was so obvious to him that his quarry had nothing to do with the matter that he never thought of saying so to Bob. The boy's line of thought, therefore, at this point began to diverge widely from the detective's -a fact that turned out to be extremely fortunate.

Bob had been lying motionless for some time when they were disturbed by a voice calling his name. The boy started to spring to his feet and almost collapsed as the injured leg sent a furious protest.

"I forgot we were meeting Norman!" he said. "He must have gotten tired waiting, and is coming uphill after us." More gingerly this time he put weight on the injured limb-a thing no doctor would have recommended and to which the Hunter also objected. "I can't help it," said Bob. "If you write me off as a cripple, they'll put me in bed and we can't do a thing. Ill favor it as much as I can-it can't get infected with you there and will just have more trouble growing together, won't it?"

"Isn't that enough? I admit that no permanent damage should result, but-"

"No buts! If anyone learns how bad this is they'll send me to the doctor; and he simply won't believe I made it home without bleeding to death. You've done too much to remain concealed from him now if he gets a chance to look me over!" The boy began limping downhill, and the Hunter pondered over the sad fact that the active member of a partnership was too apt to take control, regardless of qualifications.

Somewhat later it occurred to him that there might be worse things than the doctor's learning of his presence; it might even give them a most valuable ally. There was certainly enough evidence at the moment to prove to a stupider person than Dr. Seever that the Hunter was more than a figment of Bob's imagination. Unfortunately, by the time the thought occurred to him, it was too late to mention it-Bob and Hay had met.

"Where have you been?" was the greeting of Norman. "What happened to you? I got my bike and have been waiting in front of your house long enough to grow a beard. Did you get hung up on the thorns, or what?"

"I had a fall," Bob replied with perfect truth, "and hurt my leg a bit. It was a while before I could use it."

"Oh, I see. Is it all right now?"

"No, not quite. I can get around, I guess. I can ride a bike, anyway. Let's get back down to the house and pick mine up."

The meeting had taken place at no great distance from the Kinnaird house, since Hay had not dared go very far into the jungle for fear of missing Bob altogether. It took them only a minute or two to reach the dwelling, in spite of Bob's limp, and, once there, it proved fairly easy to ride the bicycle provided Bob mounted from the left and pedaled with the instep of his right foot instead of the toe.

They made their way up to the construction site, amusing each other the while with speculation on the troubles the others would be having getting the swamped boat through the breakers at the beach, and began prowling for materials. These proved fairly plentiful, and well before suppertime they had placed the articles of their choice in a number of inconspicuous places, to insure their remaining unused until after school the next day. They were honest youngsters, in their way.

Two things happened to prevent Bob's getting back to the site immediately after school. One of them occurred Monday morning, when his father saw him limping as he descended to breakfast, and demanded the cause. Bob repeated the story he had given Hay; but the next demand was a little awkward.

"Let's see it." Bob, thinking fast, pulled his trouser leg halfway to the knee, exposing the entry wound. This, of course, did not look nearly so bad as it should have, since the Hunter had held the torn skin in place all night and was still on duty. To the boy's vast relief Mr. Kinnaird did not ask about the depth of the injury, taking for granted that nothing so obviously free from blood clots and infection could have been very deep. The relief was short-lived, however. The man turned away, saying, "All right. If you're still limping the next tune I see you, you'd better be able to tell me you've seen Doc Seever." The Hunter's respect for Mr. Kinnaird was increasing daily.

Bob set out for school with that problem on his mind -nothing was more certain than the fact that his torn calf muscle would keep him limping for days to come, Hunter or no Hunter; and his father would certainly be at the construction site that afternoon. At the end of school another cause for delay materialized: the teacher who handled the older pupils requested that he remain for a time, so that his proper position in the group might be discovered. Bob requested a moment's excuse, hastily explained to the others, and saw them started for the new tank; then he returned to the schoolroom for the inquisition. It took some time. As frequently happens when a pupil changes from one school to another, the difference in programs had put him a year or so ahead in some subjects and as far behind in others. By the time a mutually satisfactory program had been worked out, Bob was pretty sure his friends would have obtained what they needed and taken it to the creek.

Even so, there remained the problem of the limp and his father's ultimatum. He had been trying all day to walk as though nothing were the matter, and had succeeded only in attracting more attention. He stood at the doorway of the school for some minutes, pondering this problem, and finally put it up to the Hunter. He was distinctly startled at the alien's answer.