Miko's reinforcements from Mars had come.

CHAPTER XXV

_The Combat on the Crater-top_

Not Wilks, but Coniston! His drawling, British voice:

"You, Gregg Haljan! How nice!"

His voice broke off as he jerked his arm from me. My hand with the
bullet-protector came up, but with a sweeping blow he struck my
wrist. The weapon dropped to the rocks.

I fought instinctively, those first moments; my mind was whirling with
the shock of surprise. This was not Wilks, but the brigand Coniston.

His blow wrenched him around. Awkward, fighting in the air-puffed
suits, with only a body-weight of some thirty pounds! Coniston
stumbled over the rocks. I had still scarce recovered my wits, but I
avoided his outflung arms, and, stooping, tried to recover my
revolver. It lay nearby. But Coniston followed my scrambling steps and
fell upon me. My foot struck the weapon; it slid away and fell down a
crag into a six-foot pit.

We locked together, and when I rose erect he had me around the middle.
His voice jangled with broken syllables in my receiver.

"Do for you now, Haljan--"

It was an eery combat. We swayed, shoving, kicking, wrestling. His
hold around my middle shut off the Erentz circulation; the warning
buzz rang in my ears to mingle with the rasp of his curses. I flung
him off, and my tiny Erentz motors recovered. He staggered away, but
in a great leap came at me again.

I was taller, heavier and far stronger than Coniston. But I found him
crafty, and where I was awkward in handling my lightness, he seemed
more skilfully agile.

* * * * *

I became aware that we were on the twenty-foot square grid of the
observatory platform. It had a low metal railing. We surged against
it. I caught a dizzying glimpse of the abyss. Then it receded as we
bounced the other way. And then we fell to the grid. His helmet bashed
against mine, striking as though butting with the side of his head to
puncture my visor-panel. His gloved fingers were trying to rip at the
fabric around my throat.

As we regained our feet, I flung him off, and bounded, like a diver,
head-first into him. He went backward, but skilfully kept his feet,
gripped me again and shoved me.

I was tottering at the head of the staircase--falling. But I clutched
at him.

We fell some twenty or thirty feet to the next lower spider landing.
The impact must have dazed us both. I recall my vague idea that we had
fallen down the cliff--my E