But Matt was already plunging for the air lock.
He was met, and almost bowled over, by the tide of frightened men and
women flooding up the ladder into the ship. He grabbed the nearest one.
"What is it? What's wrong out there?"
"It was a cow!"
"A cow?"
"A wild cow. It charged us--or whatever cows do."
"It was a bull," corrected Howes, the archaeologist. "I--I think it got
Pendergrast."
A dead silence met Howes' words. Matt glanced over the heads in the
crowded passage. "Pendergrast here?"
There wasn't any answer.
From the ground below came a snort and the sound of crashing brush.
Matt pushed to the port. He could see nothing through the blackness and
the rain. "Pendergrast!" he called. "Pendergrast!"
Only the endlessly dripping rain could be heard.