g--rapid-fire guns.
Somewhere in this warren a fight was in progress. Ross, remembering the
arrogant face of the bald ship's officer, wondered if this was not an
attack in force--the aliens against the looting Reds. If so, would the
ship people distinguish between those found here. He feared not.

The room outside was clear, but not for long. As they lay watching, two
men backed in, then whirled to stare at each other. A voice roared from
beyond as if ordering them back to some post. One of them took a step
forward in reluctant obedience, but the other grabbed his arm and pulled
him away. They turned to run, and an automatic cracked.

The man nearest Ross gave a queer little cough and folded forward to his
knees, sprawling on his face. His companion stared at him wildly for an
instant, and then skidded into the passage beyond, escaping by inches a
shot which clipped the door as he lunged through it.

No one followed, for outside there was a crescendo of noise--shouting,
cries of pain, an unidentifiable hissing. Ashe darted into the room,
taking cover by the body. Then he came back, the fellow's gun in his
hand, and with a jerk of his head summoned the other two. He motioned
them on in a direction away from the sounds of battle.

"I don't get all this," McNeil commented as they reached the next
passage. "What's going on? Mutiny? Or have our boys gotten through?"

"It must be the ship people," Ross answered.

"What ship?" Ashe caught him up swiftly.

"The big one the Reds have been looting----"

"Ship?" echoed McNeil. "And _where_ did you get that rig?" In the bright
light it was easy to see Ross's alien dress. McNeil fingered the elastic
material wonderingly.

"From the ship," Ross returned impatiently. "But if the ship people are
attacking, I don't think they will notice any difference between us and
the Reds...."

There was a burst of ear-splitting sound. For the third time Ross was
thrown from his feet. This time the burrow lights flickered, dimmed, and
went out.

"Oh, fine," commented McNeil bitterly out of the dark. "I never did care
for blindman's buff."

"The transfer plate--" Ross clung to his own plan of escape--"if we can
reach that--"

The light which had served Ashe and McNeil in their tunneling clicked
on. Since the earth shocks appeared to be over for a while, they moved
on, with Ashe in the lead and McNeil bringing up the rear. Ross hoped
Ashe knew the way. The sound of fighting had died ou