d hide our location._"

And the signal-beam brought a last appeal to me:

"_Miko and his men will divulge where we are. Unless you can stop
them_--"

The beam vanished. The lights of the Grantline camp made a faint glow
that showed above the crater-edge. The glow died, as the camp now was
plunged into darkness.

CHAPTER XXVII

_Anita's Plan_

We crouched in the shadows, the Earthlight filtering down to us. The
skulking figure of Miko had vanished; but he was out there somewhere
on the crags I was sure, lurking, maneuvering to where he could strike
us with his ray. Anita's metal-gloved hand was on my arm; in my ear
diaphragm her voice sounded eager and unmistakable:

"What was the signal, Gregg?"

She could not read the semaphore lights. I told her.

"Oh Gregg, the Martian ship coming!"

Her mind clung to that as the most important thing. But not so myself.
To me there was only the realization that Anita was caught out here,
almost at the mercy of Miko's ray. Grantline's men could not get out
to help us, nor could I get Anita into the camp.

She added, "Where do you suppose the ship is? In telescopic view?"

"Yes--twenty or thirty thousand miles up, probably."

The stars and the Earth were visible over us. Somewhere up there
disclosed by Grantline's instrument but not yet discernible to the
naked eye, Miko's reinforcements were hovering.

I stood up cautiously to try and locate Miko. Immediately I saw him.
He jumped as though fearing my coming bullet, and I dropped back,
barely avoiding his flash, which swept across the top of our bowl.

"Gregg--Gregg, don't take such a chance!"

We lay for a moment in silence. It was horribly nerve-straining. Miko
could be creeping up on us. Would he dare chance my sudden fire?
Creeping--or would he make a swift, unexpected rush?

The feeling that he was upon us abruptly swept me. I jumped to my
feet, against Anita's effort to hold me. But again Miko had vanished.
Where was he now?

* * * * *

I sank back. "That ship will be here in a few hours."

I told her what Grantline's signal had suggested: the ship was
hovering overhead. It must be fairly close; for Grantline's telescope
had revealed its identity as a bandit flyer, unmarked by any of the
standard code-identification lights. It was doubtless too far away as
yet to have located the whereabouts of Grantline's camp. The Martian
brigands knew that we were in the vicinity of Ar