which were hooked in crevices in the wall. The father of the family hung near the cave mouth, the mother depended from one side with the six members of her latest litter beside her, and the half grown offsprings occupied positions on the opposite wall.
“Come,” he whispered. “I believe we can get out without disturbing them. If they waken I will use the tork.”
Very quietly, they made their way toward the cave mouth. When they reached the center of the floor the male grampite stirred uneasily, and Grandon held his weapon in readiness, but the creature merely stretched one wing a bit, then folded it and resumed his slumber. A moment later they stood on the topmost ledge with fifteen feet of steep crater wall to negotiate before they could reach the rim.
They succeeded in clambering to the top, unobserved, and to his inestimable relief, Grandon sighted the glistening dome of the Olban airship only a hundred yards from where they emerged.
Vernia’s eyes were wide with amazement as he opened the door of the cab and seated her on the cushions. “An Olban airship!” she gasped. “Where did you get it? Why, I thought only trained Olban officers could run them.”
While she spoke, they were mounting high in the air. She turned and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Grandon of Terra, have you deceived me? Are you of Olba?”
He related how he had acquired the airship, and she shuddered as he told of the death of the two officers who had brought it thither.
“As for deceiving you, my princess,” he concluded, “I should sooner tear out my right eye.”
She laid her hand gently on his arm. “It makes me very happy to hear you say that.”
He thrilled at her touch and words, but did not turn his head. The craft was now poised far above the glowing crater.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I’m going to teach those devils a lesson,” he replied. “The ship of the two men they murdered will now wreak vengeance on them.”
They descended swiftly until the airship was on a level with the topmost ledge. Grandon pulled the cab control lever, until both mattorks were trained over the side, then circled the crater and poured a deadly fusillade among the bewildered grampites. Soon the air was black with the creatures, dozens of whom attacked the craft, but without success. A number of them swarmed on the deck and endeavored to get at the inmates of the cab.
“Give me your tork,” said Vernia.
He unbuckled his belt and handed her the weapon. She opened the door a little way and soon cleared the deck of enemies. Then, while Grandon raked ledge after ledge, she shot down those of the flying attackers who came within range. Most of them fell into the fiery lake, and soon the air was filled with the stench of scorched flesh and hair.
For more than an hour they circled the crater, at the end of which time not a living grampite was in sight. The ledges were strewn with carcasses, and the lake of lava was sending up black clouds of smoke as it consumed those brought down by the tork. Grandon estimated that at least two-thirds of the population of that crater had been exterminated; the others had been driven to cover.
The avenging craft again rose high above the mountain.
“Now to return you to Reabon,” said Grandon. Can you tell me which way it lies from here?”
“As I recall it, this place lies across the Azpok Ocean, directly south of Reabon. If you will steer due north, we should be able to arrive on ground that will be familiar to me, and we can then easily make our way to the capital.”
Grandon examined the Olban compass, which hung suspended by a tiny wire in the front of the cab. “I presume that, as in my own world, the compass always points toward the north.”
“It should,” replied Vernia, “unless deflected by some counter magnetic attraction.”
Grandon set his course accordingly, traveling swiftly at a height of approximately two thousand feet.
The ship was amply stored with provisions and water, and they ate their first food in nearly twenty-four hours while hurtling through space at a terrific rate of speed.
“Try to go to sleep now,” said Grandon. “In a few hours you will be safely home, and I will return to my faithful mountaineers. Then we can continue our war.”
“What if I should not choose to move against Uxpo?”
“You would save the useless waste of thousands of human lives, and therefore place me eternally in your debt.”
“You have already put me under an obligation to you for which my entire empire would not be sufficient recompense. Since you will not accept the second highest office in Zarovia, I have decided to free Uxpo. We shall be neighbors and, I hope, friends.”
“In the name of the people of Uxpo I thank you for your generous decision, and…”
He was interrupted by a series of rude shocks and a rending crash as they came to a complete standstill. Both were thrown violently against the front of the cab. Grandon struck his head on the butt of a mattork and lost consciousness. Vernia was more fortunate, as she fell feet foremost, although her ankle received a bad wrench.
When she saw Grandon’s face, pale as death, and the blood flowing from an ugly cut on his forehead, she flung herself down beside him and took his head on her lap. To her relief, she heard the beating of his heart when she placed her ear to his breast. Opening one of the provision drawers, she extracted a flask of water and bathed his face.
Presently he opened his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked. “What struck us?”
“I do not know,” she replied. “Lie quietly while I dress your wound. Then we will investigate.”
Chapter 9
Grandon protested that the jagged wound in his forehead was a mere scratch, but Vernia insisted on binding it for him, and did so with adroitness.
When she had finished, he rose dizzily and opened the door of the cab. A pungent odor assailed their nostrils, an odor similar to that produced by pouring sulphuric acid on copper.
He switched on the forward searchlight, which revealed the shattered front of their craft jammed against an enormous tree-trunk. The keel rested in a forked branch, which kept them from falling. A thin column of vapor curled upward from the shattered hull, emitting the stifling odor that had greeted them when he opened the door.
“I guess we are done with flying,” said Grandon, eyeing the wreck askance. “At least, we will fly no more with this airship.”
“Is it so badly broken?”
“The power mechanism is destroyed. An Olban once told me that a phial of acid was placed within each mechanism in such a fashion that it would instantly destroy it if tampered with. Evidently the shock of our encounter with the tree trunk broke the phial, for the fumes are unmistakably those of acid on metal.”
Grandon flashed the searchlight about them in an effort to ascertain where they were, but above, below and around them on every side they could see only branches and leaves. And such leaves! They were spatulate in shape, and a dark glossy green in color, varying between fifteen and twenty feet in length, while the stems were from eight to twelve inches thick. Each twig would have made a good sized fern tree, while the trunk against which their craft had jammed was a full fifty feet in thickness.
“Not much use to do any exploring before morning, I guess,” said Grandon. “This is a giant of a tree. In what part of Reabon do these trees grow, and what do you call them?”
“There are no trees like this in Reabon,” replied Vernia, “nor was I aware that there were such trees anywhere on Zarovia. Are