Part 3 (1/2)

”Our equipment,” said Quentin, pointing to the food stores and other articles the cave men had hastily disarranged. ”They came to steal!”

”But the man!” I insisted.

”A renegade!”

Cragley shook his head. ”It's queer,” he said. ”I don't know what to make of it.”

An examination of our equipment proved we had suffered few losses.

Several boxes of synthetic food were gone, and one of the crew had lost his electric pistol. Aside from these thefts, nothing else appeared to be missing. Cragley tripled the guards, and the rest went back to sleep once more. Nothing else occurred during that night. I was unable to get the fleeing renegade out of my mind. There was something familiar about the figure as I had seen it revealed in the glare of the firelight just before the savages disappeared in the jungle.

The thefts of the food and pistol were logical enough in view of the fact that the troglodytes had stolen them, but, guided by the man, why had they neglected stealing the platinum? Evidently, they were unaware of its presence.

Murky morning suffused the perpetually clouded sky, and once more we pushed on toward our goal, distant Deliphon--so near and yet so far.

Much to the relief of everyone, we came out of the jungle into a comparatively open country. High gra.s.ses grew about us, but the going was much easier than we had experienced while in the jungle. The land before us was a bit rolling and hilly. Leafy copses dotted the landscape as far as the eye might reach. In the open, the danger from lurking beasts was at a minimum. Our hopes rose higher.

It was around noon when the s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p from the south cruised into view above us. Cragley viewed it in consternation.

”The brigands! Now we're up against it!”

For a moment, pandemonium reigned among the frightened pa.s.sengers. All had plans, each one trying to put his own into force at once. Out of the chaos, Captain Cragley gathered order.

”Head for the bushes!” he cried. ”We're all armed! If they come too close, let them have it!”

The a.s.surance in Cragley's voice I knew was faked. Like him, I realized the desperate odds which confronted us. The s.h.i.+p was high above. We had plenty of time to scurry for cover before it dropped lower. Cragley and Quentin arranged us to the best advantage, and we waited for the initiative of the outlaws of Venus.

The s.h.i.+p descended several hundred feet away. Our retreat into the bushes had been carefully watched. Several men left the craft and came slowly, uncertainly, toward our position.

”Stop where you are!” snapped Cragley from his place of concealment.

”Come across wi' the metal!” shouted one of them in a high pitched voice. ”An' get outa there--or get riddled!”

Cragley's reply was a blue spurt from the muzzle of his pistol. The distance was much too far for accurate firing, but the charge went dangerously close. The outlaws immediately turned tail and ran for their craft. We waited for their next act, knowing that the battle had only commenced.

The s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p shot skyward, circling our wide clump of bushes. The survivors of the _C-49_ tensed themselves for a destructive bombardment from above. It did not come. Captain Cragley was plainly surprised. He was aware that the outlaw s.h.i.+p carried instant death if they chose to use it.

The craft hovered some two hundred feet above us. Cruising slowly in a circle, it suddenly dropped four objects well outside our improvised stronghold. The projectiles were shaped like torpedoes. The explosions which were expected never came. The projectiles stood straight up from the ground, their front ends imbedded deeply. It was all a strange procedure. Cragley was nonplussed.

”They probably contain explosives,” ventured Quentin, answering the question he knew stood out in the captain's mind.

”I'm not so sure of that,” said Cragley.

Meanwhile, I had been doing some rapid thinking. Anxiously, I watched the s.h.i.+p above us, keeping myself partially screened from view of any sniper who might be looking down. I turned to the captain, a wild plan outlined in my mind.

”Let me go out there,” I offered. ”I can----”

”Not on your life!” he exclaimed, placing a restraining hand upon my arm. ”It's death to go out there!”