m down there, and you're running!"

"Cut that out," Joe rapped. "Duck your head. Let me train this gun
over you. I've got to keep those jokers from shooting off our tail
before I can get to the marshal."

"The marshal!" Freddy yelled. "You can't get to him anyway. I told you
I threw away your semaphore flags, your blinker--everything. This
country's hilly. You can't get your message to him anyway. Listen,
Joe, you've still got time. You can stunt these things better than
those two can."

"Duck!" Joe snarled. He let loose a burst at the pursuing gliders over
the smaller man's head, and just missing his own tail section.

They sped down almost to tree level at fantastic speed for a glider.
The two enemy craft were hot after them, their guns _flac, flac,
flacing_ in continuous excitement, trying to catch Joe in sights, as
he kicked rudder, right, left, right, in evasive maneuver.

He guess had been correct. The swashbuckling Jack Altshuler had know
his many times commander even better than Cogswell had realized.
Instead of three alternative maneuvers open to the wily cavalryman,
he'd ferreted out a fourth and his full force, hauling mountain guns
on mule back with them, were trailing over a supposedly impossible
mountain path which originally could not have been more then a deer
track.

Freddy Soligen, in back, was holding his head in his hands in
surrender. He could have focused on the troops below, but the desire
wasn't in him. Not one fracas buff in a hundred could comprehend the
complications of combat, the need for adequate reconnaissance--the
need for Joe to get through.

He made one last plea. "Joe, we've put everything into this. Every
share of stock you've accumulated. All I have, too. Don't you realize
what you're doing, so far as the buffs are concerned? Those two
half-trained pilots behind have you on the run."

Joe growled, "And twenty thousands lads down below are depending on me
to report on Altshuler's horse."

"But you can't win, anyway. You can't get your message to Cogswell!"

Joe shot him a wolfish grin. "Wanta bet? Ever heard of a crash
landing, Freddy? Hang on!"

XI

Stretched out on the convalescent bed in the Category Military rest
home, Joe grinned up at his visitor and said ruefully, "I'd salute,
sir, but my arms seem to be out of commission. And, come to think of
it, I'm out of uniform."

Cogswell looked down at him, unamused. "You've heard the news?"

Joe caught the other's