free of
gas.

"Three minutes!" This was what Kreiss had said; this was the allotted
time. In three minutes he must reach the ship, force open the long
unused port, get inside--!

At one side, across the level lava rock he saw Towahg. The savage was
running at top speed. He had thrown away his bow, dropping it lest it
impede his flight from this terrifying witchcraft he had seen. There had
been a witch-doctor in Towahg's tribe; the savage knew sorcery when he
saw it. But never had his witch-doctor changed green gas to a column of
fire; and this white sorcerer, Kreiss, powerful as he was, had been
struck down by the fire-god before Towahg's eyes. Towahg ran as if the
roaring finger of flame might reach after him at any instant.

Chet saw this in a glance--knew the reason for the black's desertion:
then lost all thought of him and of Kreiss and even of the waiting ship.
For, in the same glance, he saw, springing from behind a lava block, the
heavy figure of a man.

Black as any ape, hairy of face, roaring strange oaths, the man threw
himself upon Chet! It was Schwartzmann; and, mingled with profane
exclamations, were the words: "the ship--und I take it for mineself!"
And his heavy body hurled itself down upon the lighter man in the
instant that Chet drew his pistol.

But, tearing through Chet's mind, was no rage against this man as an
enemy in himself; he thought only of Kreiss' words; "Three minutes! Lose
no time at the port!" And now the brave sacrifice! It would be in vain.
He twisted himself about, so that his shoulder might receive the human
projectile that was crashing upon him.

CHAPTER XXIII

_The Might of the "Master"_

As with other measures of matters earthly, time is a relative gauge.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in those moments of mental stress
when time passes in a flash or, conversely, drags each lagging minute
into hours of timeless length.

"Three minutes!" The words clanged and reverberated through Chet's
brain. And it seemed, as he strained and struggled and was forced
backward and yet backward by the weight of his antagonist, that those
three minutes had long since passed, and other three's without end.

The enemy's leaping body had been upon him before the detonite pistol
was half drawn. And now he fought desperately; he felt only the jar of
blows that landed on his half-covered face. There was no sting or pain,
only the crashing thud that made strange clamor and confusion