way," Wimpolo answered. "This place is one enormous trap. It is a great natural cavern under the ocean, and the only way of getting in or out is by submarine through the locks."
"Hell" said Don. "That's awkward."
"I'd sooner die than be a slave of Bommelsmeth," said Wimpolo.
Many small power-boats, searchlights at their helms, were methodically searching the waters. One nosed its way under the quay.
Don aimed his raybox.
"Leave them to the zekolo," Wimpolo whispered. "Your raybox is wet. It will make smoke and noise."
She whispered the word of command to the zekolo. The creature made its way through the girders, and as the boat passed underneath it dropped neatly into the middle of it.
The men in the boat had no time to cry out, so swiftly did the pincers and the strangling tentacles do their work.
There were deathray boxes and a stock of food on board.
"Now, quickly,” Don said. "Put on the clothes of one of these fellows. Disguise yourself as a soldier of Bommelsmeth."
She changed her wet clothes, and he examined her by the light of the searchlight.
"You'll pass, in a bad light," he said.
THEY prepared the dead men with ropes so that they appeared to be looking out across the water. Don's idea was to join in the search for themselves.
Another boat came nosing under the quay.
"Why are you so long under here?" shouted the officer at the helm. "Gone to sleep?"
"We caught a glimpse of the fugitives," Wimplo called back, in as masculine a voice as she could manage. "We are hunting for them."
"Address me in the proper manner," bellowed the officer, furiously. "And don't edge away from me. Come alongside. Show me where you saw them. And what's wrong with that man in your stem?"
The head of the man in the stern was attached to his body only by string, and it was at a curious angle.
Don judged that it was time to fight. A deathray shot out, played right and left. The officer and his crew fell across their gunwales, struck down before they knew they were attacked.
"We'd better be moving," Don said.
They went out from under the quay. The man in the stern nodded approvingly. In the open they put on speed. The man in the stern nodded vigorously. They swerved sharply. The head of the man in the stern fell off altogether.
Fortunately, none of the searchlights seemed to take much interest in them. Don nosed his way past and through the submarines. Most of the searchlights and the boats were searching the water out to the open sea. Therefore Don headed along the shore. They found a barren, rocky cove away from the town. Here they came ashore, tying the boat to a rock and sinking the bodies in deep water.
VANS HOLORS was an excellent swimmer, as nearly all Martians are. His enormous lungs enabled him to remain under water for a long while, and his great muscles carried him through the water at speed. He saw that searchlights and power-boats were out after him. Let them search. They'd never catch Vans Holors, claimant to the title of wrestling champion of all Mars. They'd never have caught him in the first place if ten of those apes had not attacked him at once
