t was motivated, he saw, by dual sets of gravity-plates, in separate
space-tight compartments. One set was located in the extremely thick
soles of the heavy boots; the other rested on the top of the helmet.
He saw why this was. The gravity-plates for repulsion were those in
the helmet; for attraction, those in the boot-soles. This kept the
wearer of the suit always in an upright, head-up position.

The logical plan of attack had grown in Carse's mind: down and up!
Down to the papers, then up and away before the men on the ranch knew
what was happening: he could suppose that they, like all others on the
satellite, had no knowledge of a self-propulsive space-suit. The
success of his raid depended entirely on keeping the two gravity
mechanisms intact. If they were destroyed, or failed to function, he
would be locked to the ground in a prison of metal and fabric: clamped
down, literally, by a terrific dead weight! The suit was extremely
heavy, particularly the boots, and Carse learned that the wearer was
able to walk in it only because a portion of the helmet's repulsive
force was continually working to approximate a normal body gravity.

A chance to succeed--if the two vital points were kept intact! If they
failed, he would have to slip out of the imprisoning suit and use his
quick wits and deadly ray-gun in clearing a path to Ban Wilson, his
nearest friend, whose ranch, fourteen miles from Tantril's stronghold,
was where Eliot Leithgow and Friday would be awaiting him.

It was characteristic of Hawk Carse that he never even considered
calling on Wilson's resources of men and weapons to help him. A Hawk
he was: wiry, fierce-clawed, bold against odds and danger, most
capable and deadly when striking alone....

* * * * *

After scanning the whole project, Carse attended to other needs. He
ate some of the akalot fruit spilled over the floor of the adjoining
room; opened a can of water and drank deeply; limbered his muscles
well; even rested for five minutes. Then he was ready to leave.

He soon was again in the cold space-suit, fastening on the helmet. He
left the face-plate open. The left mitten he hinged back, so as to be
able to grip the ray-gun in his bare hand. Then, a looming giant
shadow in the darkness, he shuffled to the rear window-port.

Carse steadied himself on the sill. The night-bedlam from the Street
of the Sailors, punctuated by far, hungry bellows from swamp monsters,
so