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“Did you get his license number?” asked Bob.

“Nope,” said Pete. “Sorry. I wasn’t feeling too hot.”

“Pete, are you hurt?” asked Jupiter.

“No. I’m okay. I had a fall, that’s all.”

“Well, keep an eye out in case the scarecrow comes your way. And Bob, you watch the big house, will you?”

“What are you going to do?” asked Bob. His voice was tight with apprehension.

“Try and see where the scarecrow could have gone,” said Jupiter.

“For gosh sakes, be careful!” warned Pete. Jupiter was careful. He moved beneath the eucalyptus trees as silently as a shadow, and he tried to imagine that he was the scarecrow. Where would that haunter of the night go if he were startled — if he had to find cover in a hurry?

Jupe listened. There was no sound except the chirping of cicadas. He was at the edge of the grove, and he could see the big house on the hill. The windows that opened onto the terrace were cheerful squares of light. Beyond them, people were busy at ordinary occupations. They were playing backgammon and sorting photographs. But somewhere on the hillside, in the darkness, the scarecrow had gone to ground. Somewhere the mysterious masquerader was hiding.

The cornfield was behind Jupe, and he dismissed it from his mind. The scarecrow had not gone there. It had run toward the clearer ground behind the house. Jupe walked that way, looking to left and to right. There was nothing moving on the back lawn. He skirted the stand of live oaks down the hill from the Radford mansion, and beyond this he saw a small frame cottage. It nestled in a hollow of the land so that it was not easily noticed. Jupe knew that it must be the guest house where Woolley lived.

Jupe stood still and thought. Would the scarecrow dare go into Woolley’s quarters?

Was it there now, watching, waiting for Jupe to make a move or to go on by? If Jupe did pass the little house, what would the creature do? Attack him? Escape down the hill to Rock Rim Drive? Or had it already found some other shelter on the brush-covered hillside?

Slowly, Jupe moved toward the little house. He stepped cautiously onto the porch, then decided that stealth was of no use. If the scarecrow was in the house, it had already seen Jupe approach.

Jupe rapped on the door as if he had come looking for Woolley. “Dr. Woolley?” he called. “It’s me. Jupiter Jones!”

He rapped again. Then he tried the doorknob. His heart gave a lurch. The door was not even closed tightly. The instant he touched the knob it turned. He pushed and the door swung open.

He waited. When nothing stirred in the little house, he spoke aloud. “I’ll leave a note for him,” he said. He felt at the wall beside the door until he found a light switch.

He touched it, and several lamps glowed.

Jupe was standing on the threshold of a snug little living room. The furniture was rustic and there was a stone fireplace. The kitchen was to the right, a little alcove almost enclosed by a counter.

Jupe could see no hiding place here, so he went on to a door at the far side of the room. He found a tiny hallway, a bathroom, and a bedroom with twin beds. There was no one in the stall shower in the bathroom, and there was no one under the beds or in the closet or behind the door. The house was empty.

Satisfied, Jupe turned to go back to the living room. But then he stopped in the hall and he froze. Into his mind came part of Charles Woolley’s lecture on army ants.

“Can you picture a stream of ants a yard wide?” Woolley had said. “Imagine them rippling over the ground, devouring everything, even invading buildings!”

Jupiter did not have to imagine it. He was seeing it. A living river of insects poured over the doorsill. Thousands

upon thousands of them

marched

in

a

steady,

horrifying column across the

floor and swarmed over the

furniture. One chair was

already

covered

with

a

waving, undulating carpet of

ants.

Again Jupe thought of

Woolley’s description of the

ants. “They will eat anything

living,” Woolley had said.

“That’s foolish!” Jupiter

declared. He spoke out