"It is Ingeborg," he cried as he wrenched his arm free and leaped to his feet, hurling himself furiously at the two gigantic Martians.
Impelled by a sort of Berserker rage, his fists flew out with astonishing speed and force. The two Martians were completely taken by surprise and, huge as they were, both of them went down under Dan's fierce onslaught.
One of them got up again and reached for his weapon but Mayer beat him to the draw and covered him with his needle-gun. Thus, for a moment at least, he gained command of the situation. How to make use of this temporary advantage was quite another matter. As he stood there, brandishing his gun, wondering what to do next and feeling very foolish, his problem solved itself in a rather unexpected and disastrous manner. There was a swishing sound and the gun was neatly flicked out of his hand. Unperceived by Mayer, a third Martian had sneaked up behind him and, with remarkable accuracy, had struck the pistol with the end of his long whip. The lash cracked a second time and Mayer's arms were pinioned to his sides by its python-like coils.
A whistle shrilled and a few seconds later another Martian, apparently an officer, entered the barrack room. With excited words and gestures, the slave drivers explained the situation to him.
Speaking in broken Espevolapuk, the officer asked Mayer who he was and what he was doing there.
Mayer did not answer.
"How did you get here?" the Martian demanded.
No response.
"Where are your companions?"
"I have no companions," Dan lied. "I came here alone."
"Where did you come from?"
Silence was the only answer.
"So!" the officer roared. "You refuse to talk, do you? We'll see about that." Then he said something in Martian to his men. They seized Mayer and dragged him outside.
FROM his hiding place Lieutenant Sullivan had witnessed Mayer's rash attack and his subsequent arrest. It took a great deal of will power for him to restrain his natural impulse to help his pal. Fortunately for both of them, many years of active campaigning as a space marine had schooled Sullivan in the highly essential virtue of self-control. Even when he heard the Martian officer order his men to throw the Earthman into what probably was a torture chamber, he managed to hold himself in check, realizing as he did that there would be little hope of rescuing Miss Andersen if he too became a prisoner.
Although Mayer's attack on the slave drivers had seemed rashly futile, it did accomplish one thing: It diverted the Martians' attention away from Miss Andersen, and, for a while at least, made them forget to molest her.
As soon as they had left the barrack-room, Sullivan took advantage of this contingency. Worming his way cautiously across the straw-littered floor, he crawled to the place where the missionary's daughter lay moaning and weeping on her miserable bed.
"Miss Andersen!" he whispered.
She raised her head with an effort, gazing at him through eyes which burned with pain and terror.
"Don't be afraid of me," he said in a low soothing voice. "I am Lieu-
