Turpan allowed his eyes to run over the figure of the girl, standing like a petulant naiad, with lowered eyes and trembling lip, and found that figure, in its damp and scanty attire, gratifying.

"What is your name?"

"Ellen," she said.

"You will do," Turpan said. "Yes, you will do very well for a hostage."

"You forget that these men are true idealists," Stephen said. "Yesterday they may have believed in the sanctity of human life. Today they believe that they will be sanctified by spilling their own blood—and they are not particular whether that blood is male or female. If you would survive, it will be necessary for us to retrench."

"What is your suggestion, technician?"

"I know a place where we can defend ourselves against any attack. There is an elevation not far from here where, if you recall, we stood that first time and spied upon the valley. It is sheer on all sides. We could remain there until daylight, or until you have discouraged this rebellion. It would be impossible for anyone, ascending in that loose shale, to approach us with stealth."

"It is a sound plan," Turpan said. "Gather a few packages of concentrates and sufficient water."

"I already have them."

"Then take this woman and lead the way. I will follow. And keep in mind that in the event of trouble both of you will be the first to lose the flesh off your bones from this moisture rifle."

Stephen went over and took Ellen by the hand. "Courage," he whispered.

"I wish that both of us had drowned," she said.

But she came with them docilely enough, and Stephen drew a sigh of relief when they were out of the illuminated area without being discovered.

"Walk briskly now," Turpan said, "but do not run. That is something that I have learned in years of skirmishing with the police."

At the foot of the cliff Stephen stopped and removed his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Turpan demanded suspiciously.

"A precaution against falling," Stephen said.

 Prev. P 12/15 next