and nuts of
strange form and color. This was set before them and the bearer
withdrew.

"Humph!" Mado grunted. "Seems like they want to fatten us up for this
heated sheet of theirs. Like hogs fattened for the market."

But he reached for the striped yellow melon atop the heap, and, at a
bright nod of approval from Nazu, bit into its smooth skin.

Carr's stomach rebelled when he looked at the food. He could not bear
the sight of the stuff, sitting there in the damp cavern with Ora's blue
eyes regarding him in the dim light. Those wide eyes held a gleam of
hope and trust that would not be discouraged.

* * * * *

He gazed out through the cave mouth and calculated their chances. There
were none. Not against that horde of barbarians; there were too many of
the devils to fight with their bare hands. If only they had their ray
pistols, or a torpedo projector. At least they could sell their lives
dearly. His eyes narrowed speculatively when they came to rest on a
peculiar egg-shaped object that stood out there in the open. It was
Nazu's ovoid. Here was an idea!

But he saw that its entrance door was open and that the space inside was
too small for any of them excepting one of the small stature of the
Titanese. It was crammed with machinery. Nazu was the only one of their
number who could squeeze into the thing; in fact he alone knew how to
operate the queer flying machine. There must be others of his kind,
plenty of them; another country, or a city full of them at least.
Perhaps he might obtain aid if only he could be made to understand, and
if they could get him out there safely somehow.

"Mado," he called, pointing, "do you suppose we could dope out a way of
getting Nazu aboard his sky vehicle to go for help?"

The Martian stared, his mouth stuffed with food and his jaws in full
action. He strained suddenly to swallow the huge mouthful so he could
make reply.

"Not a chance," he grunted. "Why, there's a million of them out there.
You won't catch them napping."

But he turned his attention from the basket of fruit and made a
desperate effort to convey the idea to Nazu, whose bright eyes took in
his every significant motion and whose sensitive fingers traced images
in the sand that conveyed his own thoughts to the mind of the Martian in
rapid succession.

"He's got it!" Mado gloated. "The game little cuss would go in a minute
if we could get him to the ovoid. He's got a picture of a