e Martians--"

"Yes, with pistols and ray throwers," objected Shanklin. "Too big a
risk."

"What's the alternative?" demanded Sadau. "You want to stay here and
turn monkey, Shanklin? Chief," he added to Parr, "I said once that I was
on your side. I'll follow wherever you lead."

"Me, too," threw in Jeffords, a sturdy man of middle age who had been
sentenced for killing a Martian in a brawl.

"And me," wound up Haldocott, a blond youth whose skin was burned darker
than his hair and downy beard. "We four can pull it off without
Shanklin."

But Shanklin agreed, with something like good humor, to stand by the
vote of the majority. The others of the community assented readily, for
they were used to acting at the will of their wiser companions. And at
the next arrival of the Martian patroller--an observer, posted by Parr
in a treetop, reported its coming whole hours away--they made a quick
disposal of forces around the rocket-scorched plain that did duty for a
landing field. Parr consulted for a last moment with Sadau, Shanklin,
Jeffords and Haldocott.

"We'll lead rushes from different directions," he said. "As the hatchway
comes open, the patroller will stall for the moment--can't take off
until it's airtight everywhere. I'll give a yell for signal. Then
everybody charge. Jam the tubes by smacking the soft metal collars at
the nozzles--we can straighten them back when the ship's ours. Out to
your places now."

"The first one at the hatch will probably be shot or rayed," grumbled
Shanklin.

"I'll be first there," Parr promised him. "Who wants to live forever,
anyway? Posts, everybody. Here she comes in."

Tense, quick-breathing moments thereafter as the craft descended and
lodged. Then the hatchway opened. Parr, crouching in a clump of bushes
with two followers, raised his voice in a battle yell, and rushed.

A figure had come forward to the open hatch, slender and topped with
tawny curls. It paused and shrank back at the sudden apparition of Parr
and his men leaping forward. Tentacles swarmed out, trying to push or
pull the figure aside so as to close the hatch again. That took more
seconds--then Parr had crossed the intervening space. Without even
looking at the newcoming exile who had so providentially forestalled the
closing of the hatch, he clutched a shoulder and heaved mightily. The
Martian whose tentacles had reached from within came floundering out,
dragged along--it was the skipper whose ironic acquain