Nada smiled. "One of our insects. Father used to call them rollers. He
said on earth you'd consider them of the ant family. They're remarkable
little things. Well, I guess you'd say that about earth ants, too,
wouldn't you? Terribly strong for their size, with a nasty bite. They
build their own houses. They're highly organized, with workers and
leaders, and their own armies."

"And you can talk to them, too?" Morgan muttered.

"Well, no," she said. "Not exactly. But Cah seems to be able to make
them understand."

The little red-shelled, ball-like thing on the window ledge suddenly
hitched out a leg and rolled itself backward; then picked itself up and
scurried away like a tiny round crab.

"Well," Morgan said, "your father's theories, here on Titan--"

A sudden distant growl made him check himself. It was outside; muttered
growls, growing louder. He stared inquiringly at Nada.

"The goths," she murmured. "Something wrong?"

They came in a moment; two of the weird, round-headed animals, dragging
something between them. In the background a pack of the others lurked,
shaggy red blobs half hidden by the fantastic tangle of vines, their
peering eyes like little lanterns among the foliage and the pallid
flowers.

It was a dead goth which was being dragged here to Nada. With Morgan
after her, she ran outside. The huge dead goth lay crumpled. Its
companions were mumbling at Nada. Queer form of speech, half animal,
half human, so that the mouthed, snarled words of anger now, to Morgan,
seemed almost but not quite intelligible.

"What happened?" he demanded.

The dead goth's face was leprous. Burned into a noisome, pulpy mass as
though by a flash bolt.

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