In something near ten hours, I should judge, Ashembe led the way to the door of the space ship again, and we crawled through into the wrecked outer chamber, where he paused long enough to seal the inner door with the welding flash, before taking a cautious look around outside. Our improvised ladder still stood against the side of the space ship, to my eyes, just as we had left it, but Ashembe frowned as he looked it over in the pale cold light that just precedes the rising of the sun. "We are found," he said in a whisper, looking intently at the ground nearby. "See," he pointed. I could make out nothing but a little depression in the sand which might have been a heel mark made when the tree was set against the side of the car. "Print of a sling base," said my companion. "The comer has covered footprints but forgotten this. Here!" He handed me a knife with a narrow six-inch blade, made in one piece with a metal handle. "Made it during the night," he said. "Quickly, descend the tree. I will cover your descent." Producing a knife, the mate in all respects of the one he had handed me, he balanced himself just inside the door with the weapon ready in his hand for throwing.
