To your surprise you are not taken to the
Omicron Masters but to the slaves' village. There
you are thrown into a tiny hut. Guards stand at the
door.
  Ffloyd sighs. "Drat! I was afraid of this."
  "Why? What's going to happen?" you ask, not
altogether sure you want to know.
  "The two of us may well be in hot soup. For you
see, the Omicron slaves have created a religion for
themselves.  Since the Omicron Masters saw no
danger in this, they let the slaves have their re-
ligion."
  "That doesn't seem so bad."
  "There's more," Ffloyd says. "The slaves' god is
the volcano. And the volcano god, you under-
stand, is not especially friendly. The slaves, natu-
rally, want the god to be as happy as possible. . .
And, well, they believe the god enjoys sacrifices.
The Omicron Masters find all this rather amusing."
  "I bet they do."
  "Thus, I imagine that tomorrow night you and I
may find ourselves swimming in molten lava."
  "We have one chance," Ffloyd says. "Near the 
mountain top there's a spot where we may make a
dash for it. When we reach it, I'll give a signal- I'll
nod my head like this." He nods. "Then we must
try to break away. With luck we can lose any pur-
suit on the other side of the mountain.

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