rl's arm, and jerked, with the intention of whirling
this reluctant prisoner across the room. But Quirl was heavier, and
his arm harder, than Gore had supposed. The hand came away, and with a
tearing scream, the beautiful silk garment ripped off, ruined,
disclosing Quirl's white and well-knit body.

"You done that a-purpose!" Gore roared, and then his great ape's arms
were around Quirl, trying to break his back.

But that seemingly slight body would not bend, and, as much as Gore
might tug and heave, he could not force Quirl back. The little
pig-eyes glared, and there was death in them. Suddenly Gore let go.
His hand leaped to the short club at his side, and he swung the weapon
in a vicious arc. Quirl's relaxed forearm met it, sapping most of its
force. Yet when it struck his head it seemed to burst like a ball of
fire. He crashed against the wall and sank to the floor only half
conscious.

"Gore! Gore!" yelled the guard from the platform, "'member how sore
the Old Man was about the last terrie you killed? Better lay off."

"Shut yo'r damned mug!" Gore yelled back. But he gave up his idea of
kicking the prisoner, and with a menacing glare for the guard, passed
on.

* * * * *

As Quirl's mind slowly cleared he congratulated himself for his
repression. During his struggle with Gore his hand had come in contact
with the butt of the mate's electrogun. He could easily have pulled it
out of its holster and turned it against its owner. But this hasty
action would not only have assured his own death, but would have
destroyed the only chance the I.F.P. had of learning "The Scourge's"
secrets.

Gore slowly worked his way to the women's side of the hold. Here, much
to the amusement of the guard and himself, he began stripping off
their long, flowing robes, disclosing their nude bodies. He seemed to
see particular humor to heaping indignity on the older women,
commenting coarsely on their shortcomings. The men viewed this with
set, pale faces. But none dared to interfere. In their midst was an
object lesson, his head swathed in bandages. He had been the first to
resent this exhibition, an almost daily event, when the mate's roving
eye had happened to alight upon his wife.

All at once Gore's careless and derogatory progress was halted, and he
stared with terrifying intentness at the girl who had until that day
managed to escape his notice. Gore had torn off a nondescript black
cape that had