What they saw on the ground was infinitely more horrible than the images which the teleview revealed. Although the lifeless bodies which studded the blackened clearing were swollen and bloated, the two earthmen easily recognized the furry skins and rabbit-like ears of the native Ganymedians.
Totally unaccustomed to viewing sights as grewsome as this, Mayer was dismayed to feel himself becoming terribly nauseated. It was like space-sickness—almost the same sensation he had experienced on his first flight in the space-flyer. Nevertheless he forced himself to continue the search. He found the body of Lars Andersen, horribly mangled and mutilated, but of the missionary's daughter he could not discover a trace. When it became certain that her body was not among the victims, he hardly knew whether to hope or to despair.
"Well, Dan," Captain Brink muttered after the search had been completed. "The girl isn't here. That's certain."
"Then what could have— Where can—"
Brink took one look at his fellow officer's greenish-hued face and exclaimed: "Look here, man! You're sick! Better get back to the spaceship and lie down in your hammock."
"But—"
"Never mind any buts." Brink took Dan's arm and half led, half dragged him to the Hyperion.
"Let me go back," Mayer begged. "There must be some trace—some clue—"
"No doubt there is," Brink concurred. "But neither you nor I can find the clues and interpret them the way Jim can. He's the best puzzle-solver in the Solar System."
Turning to Sullivan, the Captain ordered: "Take a look around, will you, Jim. See if you can figure out what happened. Dan and I will stay in the ship."
CHAPTER II
The Space Marines Take a Hand
SULLIVAN was gone for nearly an hour. When he returned to the space-ship, Captain Brink sat down at the controls and hopped off. He waited until he had reached an altitude of twenty kilometers before he spoke. The question which he asked was a complimentary indication of his high regard for his lieutenant's deductive skill. It was not, "Did you find out anything?" His query was, "Who did it?"
Jim answered in one word—a proper noun. It was, "Zurek."
"Zurek?" Mayer echoed.
"Zurek is the Martian word for weasel," Brink explained. "It's a sort of title of affection which has been bestowed on a certain prominent public enemy of the solar system. He's an outlaw, wholesale murderer and general, all-around blackguard."
"But why did— What motive could he possibly have for perpetrating—" Mayer paused, groping for words which would adequately express his reprobation.
"His motive is plain enough," Sullivan volunteered. "Obviously it was a slaving expedition."
"How can you be so certain of that?" Dan challenged.
"Couldn't you figure that out for yourself?" Sullivan asked, a bit impatiently. "Didn't you notice that there were no young men or women and very few children among the corpses?"
"Now that you remind me, I do recall that most of the bodies were of
