lying on his side, could reach one of the eyebolts.

Inserting the stem, Tolto pulled toward him.

The eyebolt turned without resistance. It was free to rotate, and
could not be twisted off. A groan escaped from the prisoner.

But in a few moments he tried bending upward. The leverage was highly
disadvantageous that way. Still, straining with the last ounce of his
strength, he was just able to do it. Pulling down was not so hard.

It took fifty-four motions, up and down, before the tough metal
cracked and one chain trailed free.

It was not long afterward that the cook, turning from his work at the
electric grill, stared into a face that had once been innocent and
peaceful. It seemed the face of a demon.

He would have shrieked, but Tolto took his arm between thumb and
forefinger, saying gently:

"Remember, little bug, what I said!"

He was cast, dumb with fear, into the late prisoner's cell.

* * * * *

Tolto had not bothered to remove the chains, but only to twist them
apart by means of such tools as he could find to permit free movement
of his arms and legs. They dangled from him, tinkling musically.

Now he strode into the main cabin. The ship's crew, having no guests,
were playing the part of guests. A man who was shuffling cards, was
the first to see him. The cards flew up and showered all over the
room.

"He's loose!" this shipman croaked, diving under the table.

"Mr. Yens! Mr. Yens!" shouted the captain, a small, bristling Martian
with graying, stiff hair. He snatched the neuro-pistol at his side,
pointed it at Tolto, pressed the trigger.

Tolto felt a numbing cold as the ray struck him. But his great body
absorbed the weapon's energy to such an extent that he was not killed
at once. His flailing arms continued their arc, and one end of chain,
whistling through the air, struck the weapon from the officer's hand.
Tolto stumbled, recovered. He picked up the pistol and stuck it in his
chain belt.

His impulse was to rend, to crush with his hands. The shipmen, except
for the officers, were unarmed, and they went down helplessly before
the giant fists. Some of them found riot guns, but they might as well
have pounded a Plutonian mammoth for all the effect they had on Tolto.

Mr. Yens, the mate, sitting at the controls in the glassed-in cabin
forward, turned his head at the captain's cry, and, looking down the
short corridor into the main cabin, saw the blood-covered