Anita was engaging Potan in talking of his plans. The brigand leader was boasting of his well-equipped ship, the daring of his men, and questioning her about the size of the treasure. My thoughts were free to roam.
A signal to Earth. And while we were making friends with these brigands, the longest range electronic projector was being assembled. Miko then could flash his signal and be damned to him! I would be on the deck with that projector. Its operator and I would turn it upon Miko—one flash of it and he and his little band would be wiped out.
But there was our escape to be thought of. We could not remain very long with these brigands. We could tell them that the Grantline camp was on the Mare Imbrium. It would delay them for a time, but our lie would soon be discovered. We must escape from them, get away and back to Grantline. With Miko dead—a distress signal to Earth—and Potan in ignorance of Grantlme's location, the treasure would be safe until help arrived from Earth.
It all fitted together so nicely! It it seemed possible of success.
Our futile plans! Star-crossed always, doomed, fated always to be upset by such unforeseen evil chances!
"By the infernal, little Anita, you look like a dove, but you're a tigress! A comrade after my own heart—blood-thirsty as a fire-worshipper!"
HER laugh rang out to mingle with his. "Oh no, Set Potan! I am treasure-thirsty."
"We'll get the treasure, never fear, little Anita."
"With you to lead us, Potan, I'm sure we will."
A man entered, the cubby. Potan looked frowningly around. "What is it, Argle?"
The fellow answered in Martian, leered at Anita and withdrew.
Potan stood up. I noticed that he was unsteady with the drink.
"They want me with the work at the projectors."
"Go ahead," I said.
He nodded. We were comrades now.
"Amuse yourself, Haljan. Or come out on deck if you wish. I will tell my men you are one of us."
"And tell them to keep their hands off Miss Prince."
He stared at me. "I had not thought of that—a woman among so many men."
His own gaze at Anita was as leeringly offensive as any of his men could have given. He said, "Have no fear, little tigress."
Anita laughed. "I am afraid of nothing."
But when he had lurched from the cabin she touched me. Smiled with her mannish swagger, for fear we were still observed, and murmured:
"Oh, Gregg, I am afraid!"
We stayed in the cubby a few moments, whispering—trying to plan.
"You think the signal room is in the tower, Gregg? This tower outside our window here?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Shall we go out and see?"
"Yes. Keep near me always."
"Oh, Gregg, I will!"
We deposited our Erentz suits carefully in a corner of the cubby. We might need them so suddenly! Then we swaggered out to join the brigands working on the deck.
CHAPTER XXX
Desperate Plans
THE deck glowed lurid in the queer blue-greenish glare of Martian electro-fuse lights. It was in a bustle of ordered activity. Some twenty of the crew were scattered about, working in little groups. Apparatus was being brought up from below to be assembled. There was a pile of Erentz suits and helmets, of Martian pattern, but still very similar to those with which Grantline's expedition was equipped. There were giant projectors of several kinds, some familiar to me, others of
