"What two?" Gutridge asked, seeing only Gret.

Pell cursed himself. He had blundered again. Silently he indicated the fat man sprawled under the ship.

Gutridge walked over to the recumbent Heintz and kicked him a couple of times, but without succeeding in arousing him. Then he looked up at Pell again.

"Still can't lie worth a damn, can you, Pell?" he observed. "I trust you will pardon me while I look in the ship?"

Pell watched helplessly as he entered the ship. If only the Insurgents would arrive in time!

When Gutridge came out, Pell knew he had discovered the secret. He moved slowly, as if in a dream. For once his narrow gimlet eyes were wide as he looked dazedly at his men. Then he pulled himself up and turned to Pell solemnly. All he said was one word, but it shattered all meaning and all reality for Pell.

That word was, "Thanks!"

The sound of firing from downstream was much clearer and louder now. Gutridge looked over his shoulder with a trace of anxiety and nodded to one of his men. "Callen," he ordered, "take my guests back to the tower and entertain them until I return. You'll have to carry this one—but it won't be for nothing. I have something special in store for them."

Pell and Gret were yanked roughly away from their ship, while four men labored heavily with the vast bulk of the fat man. After winding along an obscure path in the woods, they emerged to find a steep cliff facing them. The tortuous path rose sharply up its side.

"Hell!" one of the mercenaries panted. "Callen, we ought to chuck this elephant over the cliff."

"Keep luggin' him," Callen directed. "The chief said he had a treat for 'em." He laughed unpleasantly.

Pell shot a glance over his shoulder. Gret was trudging apathetically behind him. A pall of black discouragement fell over Pell. Hopelessly he berated the ironic twist of fate which had delivered them into the hands of the DIC mercenaries. To think that they had gone through hell, only to deliver the U-235 to the enemy after all—better to have died out there than this!

It was completely dark when the tired group of prisoners and guards arrived at the encampment. The dim light of Centaura's half-risen moon allowed Pell to make out a few details of the 

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