ld they have been all
this time? Surely they would have returned to this place. And you
forget that Mercutian guard who was freed. No, my friend, they have
been killed, the _Vagabond_ seized, and that was the end to that."

Morgan shook his head skeptically.

* * * * *

Saturday was cloudless. Sunday morning the malcontents were to leave,
to dribble back quietly to their homes. They were sullen, defiant in
the face of the openly expressed scorn of the loyal men, but
determined.

"No use getting ourselves killed for nothing," they muttered.

Double sentries were posted that night. A gloom hung over the camp.
Hilary went to sleep heavy-hearted. This seemed the end of all his
visions. Joan dead, Wat too; no hope of freeing the Earth from its
slavery. If only he had the _Vagabond_, he'd take off again for the
uncharted reaches of spaces, find some little habitable asteroid, live
out the rest of his meaningless life there. With these gloomy thoughts
he fell at last into fitful slumber.

He was awakened, hours later by a sudden uproar. The camp was in
confusion. Sleepy voices tossed back and forth in inextricable babble.
Hilary was on his feet in an instant, instinctively slipping his
automatic into his blouse. Grim looked huge at his side, unperturbed.

"What's happened?" Hilary shouted to make himself heard.

"Don't know," grunted the other, "but we'll soon find out."

He pushed massively through the milling crowd of sleep-frightened men
like a ship shouldering the waves, Hilary in his wake. One of the
sentinels appeared suddenly before them.

"You," spat Hilary, "why aren't you at your post?"

The man saluted automatically and gasped.

"The Mercutians have come."

"What do you mean?" Hilary demanded, as a groan went up.

* * * * *

"One of the weak-kneed men, sir," the sentry ejaculated, "wouldn't
wait until morning to make his get-away. We found him climbing out.
Said it would be dangerous in broad daylight. He was in a terrible
funk. We had no orders to stop anyone who wanted to leave, so we just
jeered him, and let him go. My comrade leaned out to watch.

"As he hit the ground, he was bathed suddenly in light. The next
instant the blackness of the night was split by a sizzling flame. It
crisped the poor fellow to a cinder, and sheared the head of my
comrade clean off. I caught the body, pulled it back into the dugout,
but it was too late.