She had been listening in, the general decided.

"Duty Officer, Indiantown Gap. Major Smith speaking."

"Smith? Connect me immediately with General Mosby!"

"I'm sorry, but the general is--"

"Major, get off the line and get Mossback on before--"

There was a click, another telephone rang three times, then a calm
voice, "General Mosby".

"Bennington here!"

"Jim! You old--"

"No time, Mossback, I need help. I'm down at Duncannon Prison. Got a
riot on my hands, two gateguards plus myself and Ferguson to handle
it. The State police can give me only another six men, in the next
two hours."

"One moment, Jim. Duty Officer! The First Battalion, riot-armed, on
the field and in their copters in twenty minutes!"

"Second and Third Battalions fully-armed, with all support sections,
ready to roll in forty minutes!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Give me the whole picture, Jim. And by the way, I've visited the
prison."

Bennington gave the details in less than a minute, then added,
"Thanks, Mossback."

While he had been talking, Bennington had also been listening. From
Mosby's end of the line came clearly that most reassuring sound, the
great bull-speakers thundering out of orders that meant for a few
moments rapid running and confusion, then in a few moments more the
resolution of the confusion into disciplined movement.

Knowing Mosby, Bennington also knew that the copters would be loaded
in twenty minutes.

"Thanks again," he said.

"Thank you, Jim. I've been moaning for a chance to check our training.
See you in half an hour."

"You'll see me--"

"Sure. Don't think I'd miss a real shootin' match, do you? Hang on
till then." The line was dead.

_Hang on till then._

Easier said than done.

* * * * *

Well, step number one, survey the situation and the terrain.

A glance at his watch startled him. Though his combat experience had
taught him how time could compress and stretch, the fact that only
seven minutes ago he had been considering supper in his office came as
a shock.

He took no chances but left his house as he had come, by the back
door. Then stepping quietly but quickly, he went to the south side of
the Processing Building at the corner nearest the Administration
Building. All the offices were dark. Only scratches of light--probably
matches to cigarette tips--flickered briefly out of the windows of the
second-story where the staff was housed.

The mess hall was also