"The collectivum."
They went inside and sat facing one another. His eyes moved over the
dark slope of her shoulders, the proud set of her breasts, and back to
the sweetly sullen face with its narrow eyes.
"I'm going to join you," he said.
The eyes widened a little. She shook her head quickly. "In a liaison
of two? No. It might spread, get linked up with Oren."
"Not if it's through these." He stroked one of the cubs. It snarled.
"It's a chance."
"We'll take it." He leaned forward to kiss her....
* * * * *
A year had passed since the night of Hanson's death. A freight train
dragged southward in the twilight, wending its way through pine forest
and scrubland. Oren was its crew. It crossed a trestle and moved
through a patch of jungle. A sudden shadow flitted from the brush,
leaped the ditch, and sprinted along beside the rails. Another
followed it, and another. The low-flying shadows slowly overtook the
engine. The leader sprang, clung for a moment by its forepaws, and
pulled itself aboard. Brakes howled on the rails as Oren stopped the
train. Two man-figures leaped from the cab--and into the jaws of a
killer-cat.
Another cat scrambled upon the tender, leaped to the top of a box-car
and sped backward along the train to seek the rest of the crew. The
bodies were left in the ditches.
When it was over, the cats collected in a group on the road-bed. They
sat licking their forepaws while a dozen shabbily dressed guerrillas
moved out of the jungle in a disorderly band.
"Joe, have your bunch unload the dynamite!" bawled a burly leader.
"We'll take the tank-car. Emmert, get the packs on those carts."
"I wonder," said a voice to a comrade, "who's controlling those
animals. You'd think they were Oren. Why don't they sting?"
"Stingers ripped out, chum. Why ask questions? They're on our side.
And we'll win, eventually--if this keeps up."
* * * * *
As a group, the panthers looked at the two men as they passed. One of
them shuddered.
"Lordy! I'd swear those cats were grinning!"
* * * * *