arms were tight about her while he held his body between her and
the explosions that tore at the floor in an inferno of crashing
explosions out beyond--until three of the demon-beasts, red with the
reflected fires of that subterranean hell, flew down like black-winged
bats bent on vengeance. And Chet, laughing at their numbers, sprang out
with hard fists swinging in well-directed blows, and welcomed them as
only an Earth-man could.

CHAPTER IX

_O'Malley Investigates_

Spud O'Malley's twinkling Irish eyes had seen strange sights in his
years of piloting an Intercolonial freighter; he had touched at odd
corners of the Earth. But never had he seen such creatures as confronted
him now.

Sheltered behind a jagged ridge of volcanic rock in the inner crater of
the great ring of Hercules, he stared in utter horror at the figures
that approached. For to Spud, with all his inherited ancestral faith in
gnomes and pixies, these bat-winged things were nothing less than people
of the under world--demons from some purgatory of the Moon--devils,
living and breathing, spewed out from that buried hell for a moment of
relaxation from their horrid work.

And, coming directly toward him across a level lava bed, three of the
things, with leather wings trailing, were approaching. Spud was
unmoving; his feet might have been one with the volcanic rock on which
he stood for any ability of his to raise them. Only his eyes turned
slowly in their sockets to stare wildly at the three who drew near; who
glimpsed his awe-stricken eyes behind his helmet glass; and who uttered
shrill, screaming cries that brought the rest of the unholy crew leaping
and flapping across the rocks.

And, within that helmet, Spud's lips moved unconsciously to repeat
prayers he would have sworn were forgotten these many years. There was a
pistol at his belt where his hand was resting; another hung at his other
side. But the man made no move to defend himself; he was struck numb and
nerveless, not through fear, but through that horror which comes with
seeing one's most gruesome superstitions come true. Spud O'Malley, who
would have laughed at devils and believed in them while he laughed, knew
now that they were real. They had captured Chet; they were about to take
him, too, to the hell that was their home.

* * * * *

And still he did not move while the demon figures pressed closer, while
their wild, shrieking cries echoed wit