little ladder-housing sounded a warning shout. The head and
shoulders of Captain Alden became visible there. In Alden's right hand
glinted a service-revolver.

But already the attacker--the stowaway--had snatched a pistol from his
belt. And, as he plunged at full drive down the take-off platform, he
thrust the pistol forward.

Almost at point-blank range, howling maledictions, he hurled a
murderous fusillade at the Master of the now swiftly falling Eagle of
the Sky.

CHAPTER XVIII

"CAPTAIN ALDEN" MAKES GOOD

The crash of shattered glass mingled with the volley flung by the
murderously spitting automatic of the stowaway. From the forward
companion, at the top of the ladder, "Captain Alden" fired--one shot
only.

No second shot was needed. For the attacker, grunting, lunged forward,
fell prone, sprawled on the down-slanting plates of the take-off
platform. His pistol skidded away, clattering, over the buffed metal.

"As neat a shot as the other's was bad," calmly remarked the Master,
brushing from his sleeve some glittering splinters of glass. A lurch
of _Nissr_ threw him against the rail. He had to steady himself there,
a moment. Down his cheek, a trickle of blood serpented. "Yes, rather
neat," he approved.

He felt something warm on his face, put up his hand and inspected red
fingers.

"Hm! A sliver from that broken shield must have cut me," said he, and
dismissed it wholly from his mind.

Major Bohannan, with chromatic profanity, ran from the gallery.
"Captain Alden" drew herself up the top rounds of the ladder, emerged
wholly from the companion and likewise started for the wounded
interloper. Both, as they ran aft toward the fallen man, zigzagged
with the pitch and yaw of the stricken airship, slipped on the plates,
staggered up the incline.

And others, from the aft companion, now came running with cries, their
bodies backgrounded by the leaping flames and smoke that formed a wake
behind the wounded Eagle of the Sky.

Before the major and Alden could reach the stowaway, he rallied. Up
to hands and knees he struggled. He dragged himself away to starboard.
Trailing blood, he scrambled to the rail.

The major snatched his revolver from its holster. Up came the
"Captain's" gun, once more.

"No, no!" the Master shouted, stung into sudden activity. "Not that!
Alive--take him alive!"

The stowaway's answer was a laugh of wild derision; a hideous, shrill,
tremulous laugh that rose in a kind of