d was tipped back and water poured into his mouth, but Sime
could not swallow. The soldier with the bucket poured dutifully,
however, almost drowning the helpless man. It helped, anyway; and Sime
returned to half-consciousness. A few minutes later, when Scar Balta
came to inquire if he had changed his mind, Sime was able to curse
thickly. And around noon, when Murray, jauntily dressed in the uniform
of a Martian captain, bid him a cheerful good-by, Sime was almost
fluent.

His torture had now reached the pitch of exquisite keenness that made
it something spiritual. Solicitously they kept him alive, and far back
in his mind Sime wondered why they bothered to do that. Couldn't they
be satisfied with what they could learn from Murray?

So passed the second day, and the third.

On the fourth day Sime was able to drink water freely, and to eat the
food they placed into his mouth, a fact which the medical officer
noted. The torture was wearing itself out. Sime's body was emaciated,
stringy, burnt black. But his extraordinary toughness was weathering
conditions that would kill most men. Balta shook his head in
wonderment when this was reported to him.

"Can't wait any longer for him. Must get back to Tarog. You might as
well put him out of his misery. By the way, I'm convinced that Murray
is double-timing me. But I'll attend to that personally."

From his post of pain Sime saw the official car leave toward Tarog.
Had he known of Balta's remark he would not have been puzzled so much
by what he saw.

As the ship was about to disappear over the ragged northern horizon,
Sime's bleared eyes saw, or he thought they saw, a human figure
silhouetted against the pitiless sky. It was a tiny-seeming figure at
that distance, but it was clear-cut in the rare atmosphere. Then it
plunged from sight.

"Somebody taken for a ride," he muttered, half grateful for the brief
distraction from his own misery.

* * * * *

The medical officer, to whom the long climb was arduous, delayed his
mission to the roof, and that was why, several hours later, Sime was
still alive to see another ship appear to the north. It was large,
sumptuous, evidently a private yacht. Its course would bring it within
a mile of the fortress, and with sudden wild hope Sime realized that
if he were seen he might expect relief. He began to tug at his bonds.
They were tough, but they would stretch a little. His haphazard
movements had alr