Eberly fed it. "I'm not afraid of you," he taunted. "Why should I fear cowards who run from their home world because they haven't the guts to stay and fight?"

The effects of his words were amazing, cutting sharply at a sore spot in the minds of the space men. The watchers growled oaths, some of them leaping to their feet. The torturer, his face nearly black with anger, reached up and depressed a lever on the radiation generator, spitefully.

Winston Eberly burped for the last time. It was a terrible, frightening, destructive, big burp. It could be felt for miles. The force of it knocked gulls from the sky over the Mediterranean. It shook buildings and rattled windows in Italy. And, when the smoke cleared away, there was not the slightest doubt that the mighty expulsion of Winston Eberly had done its work well.

Soon the few remaining space men returned to look down with troubled eyes upon that boiling crater. They circled and puzzled and spoke sad words. Then they pointed the noses of their ships up toward open space and proved once more that they were brave only when they held the upper hand.

 Prev. P 8/8