"Yes, I'm ready," she repeated.
Her hand pressure seemed to me suddenly like a farewell. We were
plunging rashly into what was destined to mean our death? Was this a
farewell?
An instinct told me not to do this thing. Why, in a few hours I could
have Anita back to the comparative safety of the Grantline camp. The
exit ports would doubtless be repaired by now. I could get her inside.
She had bounded away from me, leaped down some thirty feet into the
broken gully, to cross it and then up on the other side. I stood for
an instant watching her fantastic shape, with the great rounded,
goggled, trunked helmet and the lump on her shoulders which held the
little Erentz motors. Then I hurried after her.
It did not take us long--two or three miles of circling along the
giant wall. The ship lay only a few hundred feet above our level.
We stood at last on a buttelike pinnacle. The lights of the ship were
close over us. And there were moving lights up there, tiny moving
spots on the adjacent rocks. The brigands had come out, prowling about
to investigate their location.
No signal yet from Miko. But it might come at any moment.
"I'll flash now," I whispered.
"Yes."
The brigands had probably not yet seen us. I took the lamp from my
helmet. My hand was trembling. Suppose my signal were answered by a
shot? A flash from some giant projector mounted on the ship?
Anita crouched behind a rock, as she had promised. I stood with my
torch and flung its switch. My puny light beam shot up. I waved it,
touched the ship with its faint glowing circle of illumination.
They saw me. There was a sudden movement among the lights up there.