wall where it had miraculously escaped the fight, gulped
deeply from it, and splattered water down his face and chest. Then he
picked up the two pistols from the deck, placed one in his belt and
gripped the other firmly as he approached the unconscious Teutoberg.

At the first splash of water in his face Teutoberg groaned and rolled
over.

"Get up, you," Winford ordered harshly.

Teutoberg sat up groggily. The sight of the pistol and Winford's eyes
brought him out with a sudden shock.

"Get over to that air-lock phone and say just what I tell you to,"
ordered Winford grimly. "One false word, and I'll ray you plenty."

Teutoberg staggered to his feet obediently and took the phone, for he
had read death in Winford's hard eyes.

"Hello, Jarvis?" he asked, his body rigid under the prod of Winford's
pistol. "This is Teutoberg.... Yes, I talked a minute ago. I've changed
my plans, Jarvis. We've got to get the iridium out of the hold and into
the liner as soon as possible, or we'll be sighted by some other craft.
Take all the men but ten and go back to the liner. Make ready there for
the cargo.... You'll have to clear some cabins; there is more than I
thought. There isn't much food aboard here, anyway, and it is better to
let the men go to mess right away and start transferring the cargo
immediately afterward."

Teutoberg hung up the phone.

"Is that satisfactory?" he asked sullenly.

"It will do," was Winford's terse reply. "Now when the men have gone
back to the liner, order two of the remainder to bring up Jarl from the
hold to the control room here."

* * * * *

Jarl was as impassive as usual when he entered the control room and
beheld Winford in charge there, although his two captors stared in
amazement at Teutoberg, bloody and battered, seated against the side of
the room with his hands upraised. Jarl calmly disarmed his two captors
and closed the door.

"Only eight of Teutoberg's men besides these remain on the _Golden
Fleece_," Winford explained to Jarl. "Take care of them first, then
release the rest of our men from the hold. Tell Agar to take charge of
the machinery as soon as possible, and have the gunners stand by for
further orders."

"Awah," replied Jarl stoically, and left the control room.

He took care of the eight invaders in his very efficient Martian
fashion, for he pistoled them with neatness and dispatch where they
stood before the air-lock with the young