“We’ve had hell,” Craig said. “It seems that every time we spot a few woods goats there will be a dozen unicorns in between. If only we had rifles for the unicorns.⁠ ⁠…”

Lake told him of the plan to hide under woods goats’ skins and of the decoy system used by Schroeder.

“Maybe we won’t have to use Schroeder’s method,” he said. “We’ll see if the other works⁠—I’ll give it the first try.”

This he was not to do. Less than an hour later one of the men who helped dry the meat and carry it to the caves returned to report the camp stricken by a strange, sudden malady that was killing a hundred a day. Dr. Chiara, who had collapsed while driving himself on to care for the sick, was sure it was a deficiency disease. Anders was down with it, helpless, and Bemmon had assumed command; setting up daily work quotas for those still on their feet and refusing to heed Chiara’s requests concerning treatment of the disease.