“Hah Babbuh is in charge of my unarmed forces one hundred and sixty stads north of here,” Cabot answered. “Emsul is on his way to Yuri under crossed sticks. I am here in a plane, with one rifle, Nan-nan the cleric, and six unarmed sharpshooters.”
“What is the idea?” Tedn asked.
“The idea is to fly to Kuana to-night,” the earth-man replied, “and raise as much rough-house as possible for Prince Yuri. Will you come with us? There is one vacant place in the plane.”
The Cupian looked at him admiringly, and said: “You are still the same old Myles Cabot! You propose to capture Kuana practically without arms and single-handed. And the joke is that you will probably succeed. Howdoyou do it?”
“It’s a gift!” Myles laughed. “But ‘trees have antennae’, as Poblath would say. Let us proceed to the plane and wait for evening.”
At the plane, Cabot awakened one of the Cupians to take his place on guard. Then, in low tones, he and Buh Tedn each related to the other all that had occurred since the matter-transmitting apparatus had shot the radio man earthward.
Along toward night the absentees returned from the village, bringing provision, but scarcely any news except that the place was seething with suppressed excitement, and that they had succeeded in getting into the radio station and “pying” the apparatus.
“Let us start then at once,” Buh Tedn counseled. “No one can now get word to Yuri, and perhaps they will mistake us for a Hymernian, anyhow.”
But impatient as he was, Myles would hear none of this.
“They could easily dispatch a runner to some near-by town to send the message from there,” he said. “Furthermore, a plane looks very little like a whistling bee.”
So the group feasted, and waited until the last streaks of red had died in the west, before they shot into the air and southward. The plane was driven to its utmost, but it was later than 1:00 o’clock before the lights of Kuana loomed ahead.
Turning to the right, Cabot skirted the city and landed near the arsenal.
Nan-nan promptly left them.
“I have church affairs to attend to,” he explained.
“Great are the ramifications of the lost religion,” the earth-man replied, laughing, “and I hope that you pick up some useful information.”
After the young cleric had gone Buh Tedn asked:
“Surely you don’t plan for us to attack the arsenal? It is heavily guarded by the only men whom Yuri permits to carry fire-arms in this entire kingdom.”
“We must reconnoiter first,” Cabot replied, “for as yet I have no definite plans.”
Accordingly they made their way to a grove of trees near the arsenal. Where they stood they were completely enveloped by foliage and tropical darkness, but the arsenal was in a flood of light which emanated from large floodlights on poles a short distance outside the surrounding wall. Along the top of the high wall walked sentinels armed with rifles.
Cabot quickly formed his plans.
Turning his rifle and bandoleer over to the best shot in the party, he instructed the sharpshooter as follows: “When I raise my hand so, then shoot the sentinel to whom I am talking. Follow that by a shot at the nearest light. Then, under cover of the darkness, slink across the plain and join me at the wall.”
Without any further explanation he walked boldly out into the light.
As he approached the arsenal there rang out the cry of “Halt!”
He halted.
“Who is there?”
“Not so loud!” he cautioned. “You see I am unarmed. Let me approach near the wall so that I may explain my mission, which is for your antennae alone.”
The sentinel signified his assent, and Cabot drew nearer.
“Halt!” The Cupian on the wall repeated, but this time in a low tone.
Cabot halted again, this time almost directly under the light.
“Stand where you are,” said the soldier, “while I let down a ladder. Make any attempt to flee, and I shall fire.”
Myles remained where he was, with every indication of extreme terror, as the Cupian let down a rope ladder from the top of the wall, and descended.
“Hold up your hands!”
Up shot Cabot’s right hand. It was the signal agreed on with the concealed sharpshooter.Ping!The sentinel dropped to the ground without a sound.Ping!The light went out. Hastily the earth-man exchanged his white toga for the black toga of his fallen enemy, and picked up the latter’s rifle and cartridge-belt. It felt good to have a real rifle-shaped rifle in his hands once more in place of the buttless firearms of the ants.
Just then a voice hailed him from the top of the wall. “What’s the trouble?”
Out of the dim twilight below Myles called back:
“I shot a sutler, and just as I was about to search his body the light went out. Have you your flash light with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then come on down and help me search.”
The second sentinel, eager for a taste of sutler’s food after weeks of garrison rations, started to scramble down the rope ladder; but as he neared the ground Cabot stepped to his side and put a single bullet through his brain.
Out of the semidarkness around him there arose seven forms. They were Buh Tedn and the six Cupian marksmen from the hills. Buh Tedn started to change clothes with the fallen guard, but Cabot stopped him, saying, “No; your limp would give you away. Let one of the others assume the personality of this sentry.”
One of the others made the exchange.
Then said their leader: “Two of the posts of the guard are now cleared. Do you, marksman, ascend the ladder and walk this beat, impersonating Yuri’s guardsman.”
The man did so, while those below cowered close to the wall. Soon Cabot heard a shot to the extreme right of the beat. Then a voice from above called softly:
“One less guard, O Cabot. Three sections of the wall are now cleared. I have the body up here.”
Myles and one more sharpshooter mounted the parapet; soon all three were walking post with the precision of old war-time practice, while the other five members of the party clung to the rope ladder under the shadow of the wall. Cabot himself walked the leftermost post, and took pains never to meet the adjoining sentry. Thus nearly half a parth of time passed.
Finally an officer with a squad approached along the top of the wall to the left. Cabot promptly crowded to the extreme right-hand end of his beat, and cautioned his own adjoining sentinel to remain close at hand.
As the squad drew near he sang out, “Halt!”
The squad halted.
“Who is there?” the earth-man demanded.
“Relief.”
“Advance one and be recognized.”
The officer stepped forward.
“Advance relief.”
The officer brought the relief forward, halted it again, and called out, “Number four!”
Thereat one of the squad stepped from the ranks at port-arms. Cabot himself came to port in unison.
At this point the routine ended. Tilting his gun slightly from its position, Myles suddenly fired two shots, and the officer and the new Number Four sank down upon the parapet.
Instantly the whole squad was in confusion, but before they could raise their rifles to reply Myles and his companions riddled them with bullets.
One of them, more quick-thinking than the rest, dropped prone without being hit, and then cautiously drew a bead on Myles Cabot, who, seeing his enemies all down, had just paused to breathe. Neither he nor his companion saw his hostile move, and Myles’s other man was walking his post, far to the right, in a military manner, so as to attract no attention from the guardsmen farther on.
Everything was all set for the tragedy which would forever put an end to the hope of the redemption of Cupia from the renegade Yuri and his bee allies.
But just as the soldier was about to pull the trigger, a brawny arm slipped across his throat and yanked him backward, so that his gun went off in the air. It was Buh Tedn, who had crawled to the top of the wall in the rear of the squad. A shot from Cabot’s companion promptly put an end to this last enemy.
Then the seven conspirators searched the bodies and equipped themselves, Cabot pinning on the insignia of the officer. There were eight bodies, but some had undoubtedly fallen from the wall in the struggle. No time could be spared to hunt for these, and eight was more than enough for the present purposes.
Myles formed his men in two ranks, counted them off, faced them to the right, and proceeded along the parapet, picking up his one already posted man as he went.
Number Six was relieved in true military form. He was too glad of getting off duty to notice the unfamiliarity of the officer who relieved him. Similarly with Numbers Seven, Eight, Nine, and so on.
As he came to Number Eleven, Cabot began to worry for fear that his supply of new sentinels might run out. Why hadn’t he made some arrangement to have his own men rejoin him after being posted? But then he reflected that that would never do, for it certainly would have been noticed by the others. He was in a fix.
Number Twelve was relieved, all seven of his own men were gone, and Myles Cabot found himself at the head of a squad composed entirely of the enemy. What could he do at Number Thirteen?
But just as he was frantically turning this question over in his mind, he came to a long ramp leading inward from the wall, down to a small building between the wall and the main arsenal. He stepped back as though to inspect the squad; and they, without command, marched past him, turned, and proceeded past Number One down the ramp. This was the guard-quarters; there were no more sentinels to relieve.
Inside the buildings he gave the commands: “Relief—halt! Left—face! Port—arms! Open—chambers! Close—chambers! Dismissed! Hands up!”
The last was not in the Manual. The tired men, on their way to the gun rack, stopped in surprise. Up shot their hands, some first dropping their rifles, but some retaining them.
“It is Cabot the Minorian!” one of them shouted.
The situation was ticklish in the extreme. The Cupians were scattered throughout the room, so that it was impossible for Myles to cover them all simultaneously with his rifle. They were desperate characters, thugs of the worst type, typical henchmen of Prince Yuri. If they started any trouble, Myles could expect to get one, or at most two, of the seven before the rest would get him. Furthermore, they knew it.
“Back up, all of you, into that corner! Quickly!” he directed.
But they did not budge. Gradually smiles began to break over their ugly visages. They realized that they had him at bay, rather than he them. And what a prize he would be for presentation to King Yuri! Why, the king might even blow them to a beefsteak party.
The earth-man confronted them, unafraid. He still had the drop on them, and he intended to press his advantage to the limit.
“You fat one over by the rack, back into the corner,” he ordered, “or I’ll shoot you first.”
The Cupian addressed obeyed with alacrity.
“You with the scar! Lay down your gun! Now you back into the corner!”
The second soldier did so. Things were progressing nicely. One by one he could subdue the Cupians confronting him. But, just as he was exulting in his triumph, his gun was seized from behind. Turning, he saw Number One leering at him.
One blow from his fist in that leering face and the newcomer crashed to the floor. But before Myles could wheel to confront those in the guardroom, they had rushed him and borne him to the ground.
“Capture him alive!” some one shouted, and that was the last that he heard, for something snapped in his portable radio set, and from then on he was deaf to antennae-emanations. All that he could hear was an occasional rifle shot.
In spite of the overwhelming numbers upon him, he fought with feet and fists, until at last, the weight seemed to lessen. Finally he struggled to his feet and confronted his tormentors. Could it be that single-handed, he had vanquished eight brawny Cupians?
But no, for the figures he confronted were Buh Tedn and his own men. The eight enemies lay dead on the floor.
The mutual congratulations were silently given. A quick inspection showed that the head-set and the apparatus-belt were hopelessly damaged, so the radio man found a stylus and paper and wrote: “My artificial antennae and the accompanying apparatus were ruined during the fight. Luckily there is another set in the airplane. One of you go quickly and fetch it.”
One of the party accordingly withdrew. The others, rifle in hand, proceeded to search the building, but not a soul did they find, although the couches had evidently been recently occupied.
It seemed likely that, during the struggle in the guardroom, the rest of the guard, being unable to reach the arms racks, had stealthily left the building.
So Myles and his party hurried on to the door which led from the building into the arsenal yard. As they emerged they were met with a volley from the arsenal, and three of their number went down. The rest beat a hasty retreat and barred the door.
Then they made their way to the windows which faced the main arsenal, but two more of them were picked off before they realized how perfectly they were silhouetted by the lighted rooms within. One of these two was Buh Tedn. Myles Cabot and one Cupian sharpshooter were all that were left of the party.
As rapidly as possible the two survivors extinguished all the lights in the guardhouse, and then mounted to the roof, which was flat and surrounded by a low parapet which protected them from showing themselves against the illumination of the surrounding vapor lamps.
Crawling along the roof to the edge nearest the arsenal, they peered cautiously over. The whistle of a bullet caused Myles to duck his head, and he pulled his companion to cover as well. With his artificial antennae gone, he could not explain orally and it was too dark to write. But the other followed him to the opposite edge, where they succeeded in potting the sentinels at Posts Two and Three, which were the only occupied posts within sight.
There appearing to be nothing further to be accomplished up there, they crawled down into the building and took up their station at windows of the upper story, from which they fired at every sign of movement in the direction of the arsenal, taking care to drop to the floor and then change windows after each shot.
Finally their ammunition gave out, and Cabot went down to the guardroom for more. But a long and careful search revealed only a few rounds.
Myles returned to the upper story and groped through the rooms to find his friend. But it was his foot, rather than his out-stretched hand, which finally found him. The Cupian sharpshooter lay dead.
Myles Cabot alone, with only about a dozen cartridges, was the sole remaining defense of the captured building. No life seemed to be stirring on the arsenal side, so he crossed the building and looked out at the wall.
Dark figures were stealthily creeping along where Post No. 12 should have been. The earth-man let them have it with rapid fire, and they quickly disappeared.
He now heard firing in that direction, and then the lights there went out, so that the wall no longer showed against the sky. From time to time he fired where he judged the wall was, so as to keep back the invaders, and thus soon entirely exhausted his ammunition.
“Thank heaven,” he said to himself, “the downstairs door is barred!”
But as he said this he realized that he had omitted to bar the door which opened toward the wall; and even as he realized this there came a rush of many feet down the ramp which led from the wall to this door.
Myles drew his knife, crouched in a corner of the dark room, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He was ready for searchers who might come groping through the room, but he was wholly unprepared for the sudden switching on of the electric lights. As he sprang to his feet and rubbed his eyes, he saw before him Nan-nan and the sharpshooter whom he had sent back to the plane to get his second radio set. Behind them in the doorway were a score or more of Cupians.
Snatching the new set he fastened it in place, while the others waited. Then, articulate once more, “You have come in the nick of time. How did it happen?”
The young priest replied, “Through spies of our religion I located Oya Buh; he rounded up a number of his followers, and we hastened hither. The wall we found unguarded, with a rope ladder hanging down, and at its foot six dead soldiers in black togas. We took their arms and mounted the wall, only to be driven back by shots.”
“My shots,” Myles interjected.
“Not all,” Nan-nan replied, “for some came from the arsenal; we could tell by the flashes. Several of our party were hit—although not by you, so your conscience may feel clear—before we put a stop to this by shooting out all the outside lights. Then we rushed the guardhouse, and here we are. But where areyourmen?”
“Dead—all dead,” the earth-man sadly replied. “Even Buh Tedn.”
Oya Buh then stepped forward and greeted his former chief.
“Yahoo, Cabot!” he cried. “May the dead rest beyond the waves. We, the living, have work to do. Look—the sky turns pink and silver in the east! Morning has come. What do you propose?”
“Morning means that the whistling bees will soon be upon us,” Myles answered. “We must capture the arsenal before they arrive.”
The party then took inventory of their supplies. There were thirty-eight rifles, forty Cupians, and Myles Cabot. One man was promptly sent to the roof with crossed sticks. When these were recognized, thirty-eight men under arms were marched up onto the roof as well. It was considered advisable for Cabot himself to keep under cover. Then Oya Buh unbarred the door and stepped out. An officer from the arsenal advanced to meet him. The two gravely patted each other’s cheek.
The officer, whose rank was that of pootah, inquired:
“What is the idea of defying your king, professor?”
“The idea,” Oya replied, “is that we have come to restore Kew XIII to the throne and the Cupians to their proper dominion over the bees. The guardhouse, as you see, is manned by sharpshooters, fully armed. A vast force, unarmed but determined, awaits outside the walls. If you surrender, we shall spare your lives. If not, we shall rush the gates while our sharpshooters pick off any one who opposes, and shall kill all whom we find within. What say you?”
The pootah shrugged his shoulders. “What is there to say?” he replied. “We surrender, provided we are given safe conduct.”
“Safe conduct without arms?”
“Agreed.”
So the guard, about a hundred in number, in their black togas, filed out of the arsenal, through the guardhouse, onto the wall, along it, and down the rope ladder. The ladder was then hauled up again. The pootah looked around him.
“Where is your vast army?” he asked.
“On the other side of the wall,” Oya Buh replied, with a smile. “Now run along away from here, like a good little boy.”
But the officer and his followers started circling the wall to investigate. Before he gained the main gate, however, it had been opened and, for all he could tell, the “vast army” had passed inside. A guard stationed there advised him to get out of rifle range as speedily as possible, and twelve sentinels, who by now had manned the wall, bore out this menace; so, grumbling somewhat the pootah led his men off toward the city.
Thus did Myles Cabot and forty-seven practically unarmed followers capture the Kuana arsenal from its hundred defenders.
Straggling Cupians now began to drift in from the city. These were put to work carting arms and ammunition out of the arsenal and stacking it up in widely separated piles wherever cover could be found. Every Cupian who reported was issued a rifle and a full bandoleer of cartridges.
“We may perhaps thus arm some enemies,” Myles admitted, “but we must take the risk. The majority will be friends.”
It was well that they removed all the ammunition which they could. It would have been better if they could have removed more. They all worked feverishly for half the morning, even taking the guards off the wall for this purpose, but they had scarcely made a dent in the supplies stored in the arsenal when a fleet of bees appeared on the southern horizon.
In spite of the approaching menace, Myles and his men continued to work. The Hymernians flew low straight at the arsenal, until a volley from Cabot’s men brought down two of them and caused the rest to soar into the sky. Whereupon they started dropping bombs on the arsenal, and on the men carting materials therefrom.
Naturally, this put an abrupt end to Cabot’s operations. His men scattered as rapidly as possible; and individually made for the city with small quantities of arms, keeping to cover as well as they could. Cupians from Kuana helped themselves to the rest, and by nightfall the captured supplies were pretty well distributed. The arsenal was a smoking ruin.
All through the afternoon the bees, flying low, harassed whoever they saw moving on the streets, especially such as were carrying rifles; but these retaliated by firing at all bees that came within range, in spite of which very few bees were killed. Night brought a cessation of this sort of warfare.
Emsul arrived and of course at once gave up the idea of his projected peace mission to Yuri. He and Cabot and Nan-nan and Oya Buh spent the night under heavy guard at separated points throughout the city, securing much-needed sleep. Under cover of the darkness, many of their followers foraged in the ruins of the arsenal and secured a surprising quantity of undamaged material, being joined in the morning by the army in kerkools from the north.
Before daybreak a resolute band of several thousand loyal Cupians had gathered in the streets and houses surrounding the palace, and promptly at sunrise they launched an attack. They had expected to find the palace guard unarmed; but evidently a large quantity of the rifles and ammunition, which had been distributed throughout the city, had found their way to the palace, for the assault was at once repulsed by heavy fire from the palace guards.
As Cabot’s forces reformed for a second attack, they were deluged with explosives from above. The bee-people had evidently not returned to their base at Wautoosa, but had spent the night near by, so as to be on hand to protect the palace.
Whenever they sighted even a small group of Cupians, or wherever they had reason to suspect that some building was hostilely occupied, there they would drop one of their devastating bombs. Cabot’s forces were completely at the mercy of the Hymernians. There was but one thing to do—flee.
In vain, the earth-man and his able lieutenants tried to rally their troops. What was the use in assembling, when assembly was the signal for a bomb from above? What was the use of attacking the invincible bees?
Myles Cabot stood irresolute in one of the public squares. He was as near to despairing as he had ever been in his many vicissitudes on the planet Poros, since his first arrival there five earth-years ago. Oh, if only he had airplanes with which to subdue the Hymernians as in the days of old! Almost was he tempted to return to the vicinity of the arsenal, ascertain whether his one plane was intact, and if so fly alone in a last desperate attempt to give battle to his winged enemies.
The more he thought of the plan, the more it appealed to him. There seemed to be no other way out. His bravely engineered revolution had crumbled. If he stayed where he was, he would undoubtedly be tracked down, and put to some ignominious end by the usurper. How much better, then, to die bravely fighting for his Lilla and his adopted country.
And his baby? He wondered where the little darling had disappeared to. At least the infant king was out of Yuri’s clutches.
So, his mind made up, Myles set out on a run for the wood overlooking the arsenal. After a few paraparths he reached it. There stood his plane. Rapidly he went over all the struts, and stays, and engine parts. Everything appeared to be in first class order. The fuel tanks contained plenty of alcohol. How this machine had escaped capture or destruction was a marvel, but probably the bees had been too busy bombing groups of Cupians, to take the time to explore the apparently deserted grove.
Myles sprang aboard and was just about to start the trophil engine, when a familiar sound, smiting upon his earthborn ears, caused him to delay for a moment. From the southward came the purr of many motors.
Was the wish the father to the thought? His longing for an air fleet, with which to vanquish the bees, had been so intense; had it affected his mind and caused him to hear things which did not exist? Impossible, for the purr of the motors was unmistakable.
He strained his eyes toward the southern horizon, so that they might see what his ears heard; but there was nothing there. The radiant silver sky was untouched save by an occasional small cloud.
The bees still kept up their bombing of the city. He could see them flying low over the housetops, and up and down the principal thoroughfares, ferreting out any groups of Cupians who dared to gather in Cabot’s cause, dropping bombs on any houses which presumed to fly the blue pennant of the Kew dynasty in place of the yellow of Yuri.
The bees did not heed the approaching planes from the south. Of course not! For the whistling bees of Poros had no ears. They heard with their antennae, and heard only radio waves at that, in fact only short-length radio waves.
The noise of a large fleet of airships swept on out of the south. Nearer and nearer it came, until it was right over the city, and still not a single plane appeared in sight. Meanwhile the bees continued their depredations, and the earth-man sat in his own plane and watched and waited.
As he watched, he saw one of the bees who happened to be flying higher than the rest, suddenly vanish in a puff of smoke. And then another and another.
The Hymernians, too, saw this and rose to investigate, whereat there came the shut-off whir of descending planes.
Fascinated, Myles stared into the sky, whence came these sounds, and saw occasionally, against gathering clouds, a glint of silver light.
Several more of the ascending bees exploded. And now Myles was able to see from time to time, silhouetted on a background of cloud, the ghostly form of an airship. The bees, too, saw, and flew to the attack. What was this shadow fleet? Had the spirits of the brave Cupian aviators of the past returned to free their beloved country from Hymernian domination?
The two fleets, bees and ghostly planes, had now completely joined battle, and were drifting slowly to the southeast. Myles came out of his trance, started his engine, and rose into the air, intent on joining the fray.
On his way, he circled over the city, and gave it a glance in passing. Then he gave it a second glance, for the Cupians, relieved of the menace of the bees, were forming for a second attack on the palace.
Instantly his plans changed. What business had he running off to watch however interesting a sky battle when right here before him lay a chance to do what he had braved so many misfortunes to accomplish, namely free his Lilla from the unspeakable Yuri! Veering sharply, he landed on one of the upper terraces of the palace.
He still wore his bandoleer of cartridges, and still carried his rifle. Filling the magazine, he boldly descended into the building. No one guarded the approaches from the air, for they depended on their aerial allies to do that for them. The upper rooms were deserted, doubtless because the womenfolk were cowering in the basements and because the palace guards and Yuri’s other henchmen were resisting the attack of Cabot’s Cupians at the ground levels.
Cabot himself explored the place unimpeded and unchallenged. Here he was at last at his journey’s end, but where was Lilla? Lilla the blue-eyed princess, Lilla of the golden curls, his Lilla!
The rooms which he and she had occupied showed every sign of continued and present occupancy, even to the crib of the baby king, emblazoned with the arms of the House of Kew. Cabot looked reverently around the living rooms of his wife and child, and then swept on into the lower levels of the palace.
Occasionally he would come upon groups of defenders; but they, naturally assuming that he was one of them—especially as he still wore the black toga of the arsenal guard—gave him but little heed. Whenever the group was not too numerous he would shoot them. He hated to do this, but he knew he had to in order to save his loved ones.
Thus he traversed practically the whole of the upper reaches of the palace without encountering his arch enemy Yuri, or any of the womenfolk. Yuri was no coward. However much of a scoundrel he might be, no one would ever accuse him of that. Therefore he was not in hiding. He was apparently not in command of the defense. Therefore he must be either away from the palace, or concocting some devilment.
Figuring thus, Cabot continued to descend to levels below the ground floor. While treading these subterranean passages, searching, ever searching for either Lilla or Yuri, he came upon one of the palace guards. The fellow was unarmed, so Cabot did not shoot.
Instead he ordered, “Up with your hands.”
The guard promptly obeyed.
“Now,” said his captor, “the price of your life is to lead me to your king.”
“Indeed, I will with pleasure,” the soldier replied with a sneer, “for King Yuri will make short work of one who turns traitor to his black garb.”
The earth-man smiled. “I am no traitor,” he announced, “and this black toga is mere borrowed fur. Do you not know Cabot the Minorian?”
The other blanched. “Good Builder!” he exclaimed. “We did not believe the story that you had returned from the planet Minos. But I am at your orders, for I am one of the old guard who served under King Kew the Twelfth, the father of Princess Lilla, may he rest beyond the waves.”
“Lead on, and no treachery,” Myles curtly replied. “I trust no one who has ever worn the livery of Prince Yuri.”
So the guard led the way through many winding passages, down into the very bowels of the subterranean labyrinths of the palace. What could Prince Yuri be doing way down here unless he was hiding, which seemed unlikely? Cabot became very suspicious, and, rifle in hand and finger on trigger, watched his guide with eagle eye.
Finally they came upon a form in an elaborate yellow toga, huddled in a corner.
“King Yuri,” said the soldier laconically.
At the sound of the voice the usurper looked around; and now it became evident that he was crouching there not for fear, but rather because he was engaged in repairing something with a set of typical Porovian queer-looking tools.
Apparently not at all surprised, he hailed his deadliest enemy and rival as though the latter were a long lost friend, “Yahoo, Cabot the Minorian. I rather expected you would turn up sooner or later. Just a minute until I fix this wire, and then I will be at your service. You see, one of my mines wouldn’t explode; no one else seemed able to get at the cause of the trouble, and so I had to come down here in person.”
And so saying he turned back to his work. Myles stepped forward to see what Prince Yuri was doing. For a brief moment the earth-man’s scientific curiosity got the better of his caution. But that moment, brief as it was, proved long enough for the watchful soldier, who had led him hither, to snatch Myles’ rifle from his hand, and cover him with its muzzle.
“Up with your hands!” the soldier peremptorily commanded.
Cabot obeyed. Not to do so would have been suicide.
Yuri, still unperturbed, remarked, “Well done, Tobo; you shall be promoted for this.”
“Shall I shoot him, sire?” Tobo eagerly asked.
“N-no,” the usurper ruminated, waving his antennae thoughtfully, “not just now. Wait until I finish with this wire. In the meantime you might let the Minorian lean against the wall, so that he will be more comfortable.”
So Myles leaned against the wall and waited, his hands still held high, while the prince puttered around in the corner. Finally, after a seemingly interminable period, Yuri arose, slung his tools together, brushed one hand against the other, and looked at his victim with a cruel smile.
“Shall I kill him now?” asked Tobo.
“No. I am reserving that pleasure for myself,” the prince replied. Then to Cabot: “At last, you are in my power. I intend to shoot you myself. I intend to shoot you down, unarmed.”
Turning to Tobo, the prince asked, “How is our battle going?”
“Very well, sire,” the soldier replied. “We are repulsing all assaults, in spite of the departure of the bees to the southward.”
A momentary cloud of doubt spread over the sinister handsome visage of Prince Yuri. Then he smiled and said, “Doubtless the bees know what they are about, and will soon return to the fray. So let us proceed with the execution. Follow me!”
Myles followed. Almost was he tempted to spring upon his enemy and attempt to throttle him before the inevitable bullet from Tobo could do its work. It would be well worth the sacrifice of his own life to rid Cupia of this incubus. But what if Yuri should survive? No, it would never do to risk this. So he meekly followed.
The prince led the way up several levels, until they came to a small circular chamber hung with curtains. At one side was a dais. An electric vapor-lamp on the ceiling furnished the light.
Prince Yuri took the rifle from the guard, stood Myles in the center of the room, and sat down himself on the dais.
Then he directed Tobo, “Go and summon the Princess Lilla hither, for I wish her to see me kill this lover of hers, this beast from another world.”
Myles winced at the mention of his beloved, and thereat his tormentors smiled.
The soldier departed on his errand. Yuri toyed with the weapon, and watched his victim, with a sneer on his handsome lips. Myles returned his stare without flinching.
“You can put down your hands now, if you wish, you fur-faced mathlab,” the prince remarked.
Cabot did so, and instinctively felt of his face. The insult was unwarranted, for he had shaved only that morning.
“Don’t go too far!” he admonished his captor. “Remember Poblath’s proverb: ‘You cannot kill a Minorian’.”
“I’ve a mind to kill you right now,” the prince replied, “just to prove to you that your friend is wrong.”
“Go ahead and try it,” Myles challenged, half hoping that Yuri would take him at his word, and thus spare Lilla the pain of attending the execution.
A grim look settled on the usurper’s face as he slowly raised the rifle and pointed it at the earth-man’s right side.
“Left side,” Myles admonished. “Remember that my heart is on the other side than is the case with you Cupians.”
“My, but you are a cool one!” Yuri admired, shifting his arm as directed. “Now, are you prepared to die?”
“Yes,” Myles replied.
It all seemed like a dream. It couldn’t be possible that he was really going to die on the far-away planet Venus. Perhaps all his adventures in the skies had been a mere dream, and he was now about to be awakened.
“Thus do I bring peace to Poros!” the Cupian sententiously declaimed.
His finger closed upon the trigger.
The rifle spat fire.
Myles felt a sharp warm pain in his shoulder. But he still stood erect. He was not dead. Could it be that Yuri had missed? Shaking himself together and blinking his eyes, Myles stared at the prince.
The prince stared back with an open-mouthed expression of surprise. His eyes were fishlike. His body was no longer erect. The rifle lay in his lap, and he seemed to be feebly trying to raise it and point it at Cabot.
Then, with a gurgle, some blood welled from the prince’s mouth and trickled down his chin.
With one supreme effort his antennae radiated the words, “Curse you!”
Then the rifle dropped clattering from his nerveless hands, and his body slouched forward prone on the floor at the foot of the dais. From the right side of his back there protruded the jewelled hilt of a dagger.
Behind the couch, between parted curtains, stood a wild-eyed Cupian woman, her face hideous with pent-up hate and triumph.
For a moment Myles stood rooted to the spot; then, tearing his feet free, he rushed to his fallen enemy and plucked out the dagger. From the wound there gushed bright cerise-colored blood, foamy with white bubbles. Myles turned the body over, and listened at the right side of the chest. Not a sound. Then, the Prince’s chest collapsed, with a sigh, a little more blood welled out of the mouth, and all was still once more.
Prince Yuri, the most highly developed specimen of Cupian manhood—but a renegade, traitor, rejected wooer of the Princess Lilla, pretender to the throne of Cupia—Prince Yuri was dead!
And such an ignominious death for one of his high spirit to die! Stabbed in the back by a woman.
Cabot rose and faced her, the jeweled dagger still in his hand. “Who are you?” he asked. “And why did you do it?”
“I am Okapa,” she replied in a strained voice—“Okapa from the mountain village of Pronth. Do you remember how in the Second War of Liberation you found Luno Castle deserted and a slain infant lying on the royal bier?”
“Can I ever forget it?” he answered, his mind going back into the past. “Naturally I thought it was my baby son, whom I had never seen. Therefore I fought all the harder against the usurper Yuri until I drove him and his ant allies southward, rejoined Lilla in Kuana, and learned that little Kew was safe, and that the dead child was but an orphan baby whom Lilla had substituted for our own baby for fear of just such an outcome.”
“It was no orphan!” Okapa shrieked. “It was mine—mine! The dead child was mine! Yuri stabbed my child and now I have stabbed him with the selfsame dagger. Yuri killed my baby, and I have slain him, and now I must die myself for killing a king.”
So saying, her anger spent, she flung herself upon the couch and wept silently, as is the habit of Cupians.
Just then the Princess Lilla in a black gown swept into the room.
“They told me the king wished to see me here,” she said. “Where is the king?”
She stopped abruptly as she saw the body on the floor. Then her eyes rose until they rested on Myles Cabot. With a glad cry she rushed toward his outstretched arms.
But a peremptory shout of “Hands up!” from the doorway caused her to halt. She was between Myles and the door. He still held the jeweled dagger in his hand. Stepping quickly to one side, he cast it straight at Tobo who stood by the entrance, a rifle in his hands; and before the Cupian soldier could raise his weapon to fire, the missile had penetrated his heart. Down he went with a crash.
While this had been going on, Okapa, the madwoman, had crept stealthily toward Yuri’s body with a view to securing the rifle which he had dropped. Seizing it, she leaped to her feet with a shriek.
“You too!” she cried, pointing at Lilla with one skinny finger. “For it was you who took my babe from the orphanage and exposed him to danger. You are joint murderer with Yuri. Him I have slain, and now it is your turn.”
But Myles stepped between her and the princess and wrenched the gun from her poor mad hands, whereat she flung herself upon him, clawing and biting like a demon. It was only the work of a few minutes, however, to get both her wrists behind her back.
Lilla, sensing the need, ripped some strips from the hanging draperies; together they tied the woman and seated her to one side. Then once more the long separated earth-man and his Cupian beloved started to embrace, while Okapa glared at them with baleful eyes.
This was too much for Myles.
“Just one paraparth!” he said; and, stepping over to Okapa, he spun her around until she faced the wall.
Then he clasped his princess to him in a long embrace.
But at last a pang intruded in his bliss. “Lilla dearest,” he asked, “where is our little son?”
She shook herself together.
“I know not,” she replied, “They would not let me know, for fear that the usurper—may he rest beyond the waves—might force the secret from me. But our country is more important than our child. While we tarry here the battle rages. Quick, to the upper levels, and let us take control.”
“We cannot do so without a message from their king,” her husband asserted. “Let us therefore bring them one.”
Stooping down, he picked up the dead body of Prince Yuri and flung it across his shoulder.
“Lead on!” he said.
As they emerged up a flight of stairs into the main hall of the palace they saw a frantic throng of palace guards piling tables, chairs, and other furniture into a barricade across one of the doorways. Evidently the troops of Emsul and Hah Babbuh had penetrated the palace and had driven the defenders back to this point.