o do with Friday and me?"

"Well," grinned the pirate, "I can't tell you definitely, but it's
sure to be interesting. It'd suit me best if I could teach you a few
little tricks with a peeling knife--the Venusians have some very neat
ones, you know--and then perhaps burn you full of holes. Little holes,
done with a mild needle-ray. But unfortunately I can't kill you
personally, for Ku Sui will want to do that himself. You're worth a
hell of a lot of money alive."

"I go to Ku Sui, then?"

"That's right. I'll hand you over when I have my rendezvous with him,
seven days from now. Clever man, Ku Sui! Half Chinese, you know. He'll
be tickled to get you alive."

A muscle in the Hawk's cheek quivered. Then he asked:

"And Friday?"

Judd laughed. "Oh, I don't much care; he's not worth anything. I'll
throw him in with you for good measure, probably. How's the head?"
Once more the foot swung.

Carse's gray eyes were as frigid as the snow caps of Mars. The left
eyelid was twitching a little; otherwise his pale face was as if
graven from stone.

"Judd," he whispered, so softly that his voice was almost inaudible.
"I shall kill you very soon. I shall make it a point to. Very soon.
Judd...."

The Kite stared at the pallid gray eyes. His lips parted slightly. And
then he remembered that his captive was bound, helpless. He spat.

"Bah!" he snarled. "Just your old stuff, Carse. It's all over with you
now. You'll be screaming to me to kill you when Ku Sui begins to touch
you up!" He guffawed, again kicked the man at his feet, and turned
away.

Hawk Carse watched him walk to the forward end of the cabin; and,
after a little while, he sighed. He could be patient. He was still
alive, and he would stay alive, he felt. A chance would come--he did
not know how or when; it perhaps would not be soon; it might not come
until he had been delivered to Ku Sui, but it would arrive. And
then....

Then there would be a reckoning!

The deceptively mild gray eyes of the Hawk were veiled by their lids.

* * * * *

Night had settled over the ranch by the time the _Star Devil_ and
Judd's accompanying ship were in the satellite's atmosphere. It was
the rare, deep, moonless night of Iapetus, when the only light came
from the far, cold, distant stars that hung faintly twinkling in the
great void above. Occasionally, the tiny world was lit clearly at
night by the rays of Saturn, reflected from one of the eight