Weird figures suddenly burst the walls of flaming death. They were
outlaws attired in strange accoutrements. A series of metal rings
surrounded them, connected to their bodies with spokes. The electrical
discharges darted all over the rings. As they came closer, we discovered
that they were not surrounded by separate rings but with a continuous
spiral which narrowed together at the top of the head. The other end
dragged on the ground.
"Electric resistors of some kind!" muttered Cragley whose face wore a
hopeless expression. "They walked right through those lightning bolts!"
Quentin aimed his pistol and fired at one of the slowly advancing
figures. The spiral glowed faintly. The outlaw continued his approach.
"There goes our last chance!" I cried. "We might just as well toss up
the sponge!"
Cragley was thinking fast. It was unlike him to give up without a fight.
But what was he to do when his weapons had been shorn of their force,
leaving him utterly helpless before the superior strength of the
brigands.
Several figures rushed from the bushes. They were panic-stricken
passengers. In alarm, despite the warning cry the captain hurled at
them, they rushed straight past the advancing figures with their
encumbering spirals. Frightened, bewildered, and hemmed in by the play
of lightning, they ran directly in the path of the electric fence. The
crackling bolts enfolded three of them before the fourth became startled
out of his madness, retreating from the flashing death.
One of the spiral clad figures turned and regarded the frightened man
for a moment. Raising his electric pistol, he fired, and the passenger
from the ill-fated _C-49_ joined his companions who had futilely rushed
the electric barrier.
A voice from the space ship of the brigands suddenly gave out an order.
The voice came from a speaker and was many times amplified.
"Crew and passengers of the _C-49_--come out in the open. Bring the
platinum with you. Keep away from the electric fence unless you wish to
die. Come out--or we shall come in and hunt you down."
The spiralled figures inside the fence had stopped at sound of the voice
and were waiting for us to comply with the order from the space ship.
More of the brigands in their electric resistors were advancing through
the lightning bolts which crackled noisily. The powerful voltage danced
and played upon the spirals, disappearing into the ground.
Cragley paused, undecided. Lines of broken resolve creased his face.
Previously, he had remained strong and stubborn in the face of
overwhelming adversity when chances were slim. There now remained not
even the slimmest of chances, and stubborn courage yielded to reason.
"I guess the game's up, Quentin." He turned to regard his under officer
in speculation.
Quentin waited for his captain's orders. Again came the voice from the
outlaw craft in its strident tones. They were tinged with a touch of
impatience.
"Show yourselves inside of one minute, or else be executed at once!
Unless----"
"Hold out!" cried a new voice from the speaker, breaking in upon the
first voice. "You have friends on----"
Then came sounds of scuffling. To our ears came imprecations and curses.
"Don't go out there!" warned the second voice in laboring gasps.
"Stay----"
With a sudden snap, the speaker was cut off. Nothing more was heard. For
a moment the lightning bolts comprising the electric fence flashed
out--then reappeared. A few seconds later they disappeared once more,
returning shortly to flicker in a peculiar manner.
It was evident that some sort of a struggle was taking place inside the
outlaw ship. The electric display crackled and sputtered louder than
ever. With a sudden, explosive thunder clap, the four terminal posts
blew to pieces.
The spiralled figures turned in alarm back toward their craft. One of
them, hovering close to our haven of retreat, did not follow his
comrades. Instead, he drew forth from a long side pocket a black object.
At first glance, it seemed shaped like a pistol. But it was much longer
and was proportioned differently.
He waited patiently until several more of the brigands had returned to
the ship. Raising the black weapon, he aimed carefully at his fellow
outlaws. The man's strange actions amazed me. He was turning upon his
own comrades. Several of the brigands fell backward off the deck of the
outlaw craft.
Cragley, beside me, was speechless in surprise at the rapid succession
of events. The outlaw's strange weapon which emitted no flash had us all
wondering. Later, we discovered that it was a radium gun, a new
instrument of destruction still in the experimental stage.
"Who is he?" voiced Cragley.
"Can't be the fellow we heard over the speaker," observed Quentin. "This
man came through the electric fence with the first ones."
"Somebody over there is pulling for us," insisted Cragley, "and the man
with the black gun must be a friend, too."
A flash darted out from the ship, hitting the spiralled figure operating
his mystifying weapon. The spiral glowed brilliantly. The man inside the
spiral remained unaffected, continuing to manipulate the knob of his
weapon. Something went wrong with it, for the outlaw who had so suddenly
turned against his friends tinkered with it a moment, then threw it from
him in disgust. Meanwhile, the brigands had massed inside the ship.
* * * * *
With a loud crackling, the speaker's volume was thrown on again. An
alarmed voice vibrated in our ears. Above the words came a rattling and
banging--also the muffled sound of shouting men.
"Jasper! Come t' the control room! I'm locked in! They're bustin' down
the door! Bring that gun o' yours! Hurry, lad!"
Jasper looked upon his broken weapon, hesitated a moment, then picked it
up--butt foremost. Seizing it in cudgel fashion, he made for the ship.
"Come on!" roared Cragley exultantly. "Now's our chance!"
We found our numbers reduced to ten, but every one of us leaped forward
at Cragley's order, ready to stake everything on the one desperate,
fighting chance which had come so unexpectedly. We had nearly overtaken
the man we had heard addressed as Jasper when a crackling flame of
lightning leaped out at us. A hissing roar smote our ear drums and we
were temporarily dazzled by an intense light. The aim had been too high.
The electric charge had gone over our heads. The man in the control room
had frustrated the attempt to electrocute us.
Several of the brigands jumped out of the ship to meet us. They still
wore the encumbering spirals. A powerful gas of paralyzing effect was
shot into our faces. We became as immobile as statues. Jasper, too, was
overcome. Instantly, we were divested of our weapons.
The man locked in the control room of the ship had been taken. Whoever
these two men were who had championed our cause, their desperate efforts
had failed, and now we were all in the same boat. The one who had
addressed us over the speaker was led out of the ship and shoved into
our group beside his fellow traitor, Jasper. The latter's spiral was
promptly torn off.
As the outlaws passed among us, searching for concealed weapons, I felt
a cold object thrust cautiously into my hand. My heart thrilled to the
contact of a pistol. I held my hand close to my side that none might
see. The effects of the gas wore off quickly.
The chief of the brigands, his brutal face set in anger, strode up to
the pair who had turned against him during the stress of combat. His
dark eyes blazed, and he raised his clutching hands menacingly above the
two. Jasper and his friend stared back unabashed, a reckless glitter in
their eyes, ready for what might happen.
"I don't know who you are, but I've got suspicions!" snapped the outlaw.
"You'll both die horribly--the kind of death we reserve for such as
you!"
He turned upon Cragley. "Where's the platinum?" he demanded. "Is it over
there?" He pointed to the clump of bushes from which we had lately
emerged. "Or have you hidden it?"
"See for yourself!" snapped Cragley.
"When we find it, all tongues will be silenced," he remarked
significantly. "If it's hidden, we'll find it just the same. We know how
to make tongues wag."
It was a desperate situation. Cragley knew that the time of reckoning
had come. The platinum lay in an open space among the bushes where we
had taken our stand on seeing the approach of the outlaw ship. I fondled
the gun I held out of sight.
Leaving a large force of his men to guard us, the leader of the brigands
took the balance of his men and headed for the spot where Captain
Cragley had left the boxes of platinum.
"Well, Ben," observed Jasper, philosophically scratching his head, "we
did the best we could."
"Which weren't quite enough, Jasper, m'lad."
"Who are you two?" queried Cragley.
Each one looked at the other questioningly. For a moment neither spoke.
Then through a rough, unkempt beard, Ben grinned at his companion.
"Might as well tell 'im, Jasper. The game's up."
"We ain't outlaws, that's sure, though we might have made believe so,"
said Jasper. "He's Ben Cartley, the best pal a man ever had. I'm Jasper
Jezzan. We're from the Hayko Unit."
My mouth fell open in surprise. I nearly dropped the gun I had kept
concealed in a fold of my clothing. Everyone, at some time or another,
had heard of the famous Hayko Unit. The order, established since the
perfection of space flying, was comprised of men pledged to keep the
space lanes and colonies safe from the lawless element.
"We'll be in the death unit when Ledageree and his men come back,"
cracked Ben, chuckling at his own grim joke. "Did you plant the
platinum, or is it back there?"
"Back there," echoed Cragley dejectedly. "We haven't a chance. I thought
maybe we could make Deliphon with the stuff before these outlaws got
wise."
"We followed the trail easily from the air," remarked Cartley. "First,
we found the space ship and the cylinder. After that, we just watched
for the green campfire markers is all."
"Campfire markers?" questioned Cragley in excitement. "What do----"
"There comes Ledageree!" interrupted Jasper.
The brigand chieftain and his men were emerging from the bushes with the
little boxes stacked in their arms.
"We're sunk now!" exclaimed Quentin.
Impulsively, the captain took a step in the direction of the space ship.
One of the outlaws guarding us stepped forward before the captain,
bringing up his pistol. An evil light shone in his eyes, the fanatical
gleam of the confirmed killer. It was the man's intention to kill
Cragley where he stood.
* * * * *
But the act was never consummated. A blank look overspread the outlaw's
face. His face held that strange expression which is so characteristic
of the electrocuted man. He tottered and fell face downward. Uttering a
cry of agony, another of the brigands fell, seizing frantically at a
shaft which protruded from his body, a shaft of crude hammered metal.
While we all stared in surprise at the fallen men, Jasper Jezzan, quick
to take stock of the situation, looked out over the high grass.
"Troglodytes!" he cried. "That's one o' their metal darts, Ben!"
Substantiating Jasper's discovery, there came a chorus of yells from all
sides. Heads came into sight above the tall grass. Darts flew thick and
fast, yet every one found its mark. The cave men of Venus brandished
their weapons preparatory to rushing in upon us in overwhelming numbers.
The outlaws blazed away at the savages, but the latter proved to be
difficult targets at which to aim. They were always on the move,
running, hiding, reappearing to launch their deadly darts from another
direction. Ledageree dropped his armful of the precious metal and
screamed an order.
"Into the ship!"
It was then that I noticed the curious fact that none of the passengers
or crew of the _C-49_ had been hit. The remaining outlaws attempted to
herd us into the ship. Their numbers rapidly diminished under the hail
of darts cast at them so accurately by the troglodytes. Many of the cave
men toppled over in death as the outlaws made a hit, but more came to
take the places of those fallen.
"There's the white man--the renegade!" shouted Quentin.
Indeed, it was so. The troglodytes were led by the man who had broken
into our camp on the previous night. Seizing a pistol from one of the
fallen brigands, Ben hastily pointed it at the yelling cave dwellers who
were running full force in our direction, the renegade at their head.
"No. Ben, no!" cried Jasper. "They're friends!"
"It's Brady!" shouted one of the passengers of the _C-49_. "Chris
Brady!"
"Impossible!" exclaimed Cragley. "He's dead!"
"You're wrong, Cragley!" said I, also recognizing the renegade. "That is
Brady!"
I heard a noise behind me. I turned and looked. Ledageree and two of his
surviving brigands were clambering aboard the space ship. The horde of
troglodytes were nearly upon us. In trepidation, I moved backward.
Ledageree had gained the deck and was running in the direction of the
air lock when Brady saw him, raising his pistol to fire.
From its concealment, I brought my gun into action. With hasty aim, I
pulled the trigger, cursing myself for a wide miss. I was a bundle of
nerves at the moment. Again I tried, this time drawing a fine bead.
Chris Brady was clearly outlined beyond the sights of my pistol.
A split second before I squeezed the trigger, Jasper Jezzan seized my
arm. The flash of power shot harmlessly into the sky. Fiercely, I
battled with the Hayko man, raising my pistol to brain him. But Cartley
was upon me, and I went down under their combined weight. Something hit
my head. Blackness engulfed me.
When I regained consciousness, I was aware of the babble of voices. My
head throbbed and swam dizzily. A ring of troglodytes encircled me. I
heard Chris Brady talking. Had he come back to life in some miraculous
manner? I had seen him shot and buried. His words penetrated my dazed
senses.
"When I saw that everything was stacked against me with no chances of
proving my innocence, I tried an old trick, Cragley. I was afraid you'd
get wise to me, but you didn't. I fell a split second before your men
fired. I watched your lips for my signal. None of the shots touched me.
I played dead and was buried in the shallow grave. When you went, I dug
myself out. I came pretty near smothering."
"We buried you alive!"
"You did, and I'm thankful I was alive--and still am."
"But the troglodytes?"
"My friends," replied Brady. "I've been among them a great deal during
my life upon Venus. I know their language and customs. They look up to
me and obey my orders. We've been following you. The other night, we
broke into your camp and stole food and this pistol."
"Then you're not the outlaw we supposed you to be?" Cragley was amazed
beyond words. Apologies flooded to his lips and remained unspoken. What
apology could there be to this Innocent man he had all but sent to his
death?
"No--I'm not, but I knew there was no way of proving it to you," replied
Brady, "at least not until Deliphon was reached. With my friends, here,
I followed your trail. We heard the sounds of fighting far ahead. When
we found you attacked by outlaws, I knew it was my chance to save you
and prove myself."
"You have proved yourself!" exclaimed Cragley warmly. "But what about
Raynor and Davy?"
"They thought Brady was their leader they'd been told t' watch for!"
interrupted Jezzan spiritedly. "Plain as day, ain't it, Ben?" He turned
to his comrade for a confirmative nod. "There's your man!"
Jasper Jezzan pointed at me where I sat on the ground, collecting my
wits. I knew that I had been caught red handed. Denials were useless.
"Ern Hantel!" exclaimed Cragley in surprise. "He's the last man I'd
suspect!"
"Just the same, he's the man you thought Brady was," persisted my
prosecutor relentlessly. "He put green flares in your campfire ashes,
so's we could follow you."
"How did you men come to be with the outlaws?" asked Brady, a bit
confused by the surprising revelations he had heard.
"The authorities at Deliphon have suspected this gang for quite a
spell," replied Cartley. "Jasper and I joined 'em t' find out. We're
much obliged t' you and your cave men, Brady. You got us out of a tight
pinch."
Cragley confronted me. "What have you to say for yourself, Hantel?" he
asked grimly.
"They've got my number right," I grumbled, rubbing an aching head. "No
use bucking a Hayko man in a place like this." I nodded in the
direction of Jezzan and Cartley. "Ledageree was warned against
strangers."
"Then you admit Brady is innocent?" queried the captain, seeking the
confession which would irrevocably clear the accused man.
"Yes. He's innocent. Davy and Raynor never knew me. I sent my
instructions to them through Brady, leaving messages where they believed
he'd left them. When we left the earth, I recognized Davy and Raynor
right off. For secrecy's sake, they weren't supposed to talk with the
man they took orders from. I took advantage of this fact by placing my
article of identification in the possession of Brady."
"The brown collars you loaned me!" exclaimed Brady, realizing the mode
of his undoing.
"After I'd first stolen your collars and destroyed them," I added. "I
was afraid of something going wrong before Ledageree and his men picked
us up. I blew out the radium repellors of the _C-49_ and planted the
evidence in Brady's room. I knew if anything happened Raynor and Davy
would identify him as the man from whom they took instructions. That
left me a loophole."
"The case against you is completed, Hantel!" Cragley's face was stern
and set. "You're the one who's going to be shot this time, and there
won't be any chance of falling before my men fire, either!"
"Just a minute," interposed Jezzan, thrusting back the angry captain.
"We've got a say here. Headquarters wants this man. He's got more
information than he's given. There's some other affairs he can talk
about. He's going back with us."
Cragley didn't argue the matter. It was beyond his authority. Besides,
if I received my just dues, he cared little where I was executed.
They placed me under strong guard on the outlaw ship, and we flew back
to Deliphon. Knowing me for the clever, resourceful criminal which I
pride myself on being, Jezzan and Cartley personally conducted me to the
earth. There, I was given a brief examination.
At present, I find myself in the interplanetary penal colony of Phobos
where I am being held for reasons peculiar to the Hayko Unit. I expect
death most any day. In the meantime, I spend much of my numbered hours
gazing out of my prison into the realms of space. The rotating sphere of
Mars stands prominent against starlit skies. Occasionally, I see Phobos'
companion moon, Deimos. Beyond the transparent facing of my prison cell
stretches an airless void. There is but one escape. I await it, absorbed
in fatalistic reflection.