le metal at one side. There was nothing else in the
place. Gerry rubbed his wrists a moment to restore circulation, then sat
down on the edge of the bunk and dropped his head in his hands.

He seemed to be about at the end of his trail. Well--that was fate. He
did not mind so much for himself and Angus. You knew you were taking
risks when you signed up for interplanetary travel in the first place!
But he was sorry that Closana had been dragged into it.

Gerry had now lost all hope of rescue by the _Viking_. He did not doubt
that her duralite hull could withstand the explosive bullets of even the
heaviest caliber gas-guns, nor that her three-inch ray-tubes could blast
a way into these underground dungeons in a few minutes. If only Steve
Brent knew where to come! That was the rub. There was now no way for
Brent to learn where the prisoners were being held, and he could not
search all the land of Giri-Vaaka.

Something small and furtive was moving about on the floor a few feet
away. Gerry scuffed his feet on the stones, and the creature scampered
quickly away. Probably a rat! It seemed that he was going to have
pleasant company during his stay in this place.

Restless and gloomy, Gerry stood up again. He started to walk up and
down the few feet that the length of his cell allowed him. Then he froze
motionless! A faint tapping was sounding from somewhere to his left.
Someone was knocking lightly on the wall of the adjoining cell. Then a
voice spoke softly in Martian.

"You there! You in the next cell! Can you hear me?"

* * * * *

Gerry knelt down on the damp floor and put his head close to the base of
the wall. Now he could hear the man more clearly, could even hear his
heavy breathing. Gerry's groping fingers found a place between two of
the stones where the mortar had been picked away to leave a small air
space.

"Yes, I hear you!" he called softly. He heard a dry chuckle.

"Good! I have been waiting a long time for them to put someone in the
next cell. Some of the stones are loose. I will come in."

There was a soft rattle of falling mortar, and a scrape of sliding
stones. Gerry saw the head and shoulders of a man thrust through the
opening, and then the man crawled laboriously into the cell.

"Who are you?" he whispered. "Your accent is not like that of the Green
Men of Giri. Wait, I have a light here."

A small flashlight clicked on. Its beam pointed up into Gerry's face.
T