Almost directly below him, a column of black smoke smudged the clear green of the swamp grass. At the very base of the dark cloud, red tongues of flame shot skyward. Bill turned his gaze elsewhere. His former passengers were undoubtedly as cold-blooded, black-hearted a band of villains as had ever lived; still, they were, or had been human beings. And Bill had no desire to watch their cremation and the demolition of a splendid plane.