be a sissie andturned his attention to the sight of the Rangeley. Nothing was in sight.This did not surprise him. He had not expected to see anything exceptsand. "I betcha I'm looking right at two or three of those devils andnot seeing them," he grumbled.
"They are adept at protective coloration," the girl said. "Let me look."
She applied her eye to the scope of the Rangeley, moving it on itsmounting so that it swept across the sand. "There's one!" she said,sudden excitement in her voice.
"Where?" McLean demanded, pushing her aside and put his eye to thescope.
"Right where I have the sight centered. Can't you see that little bulge?Right there." She started to stand up and point.
McLean jerked her backward and shoved her face into the sand. "Don't getso excited that you start to stand up," he growled. Light sparkledthrough the air above them.
"I forgot," the girl said, meekly. "Let me get my head up. You've got mynose and mouth full of sand."
"Out here, you only forget once," the roustabout said, releasing her. "Istill don't see anything," he said, peering through the scope. He movedaside as she pushed at his shoulder.
Again she studied the terrain. Making a minute adjustment of the sight,she pulled the trigger. The Rangeley burped softly--it was a gasoperated gun--then three quick explosions took place out on the desertwhere the explosive pellets hit. A wild yell followed. McLean got hiseye to the sight in time to see a tribesman spin crazily within fiftyfeet of them. The fellow turned one last cartwheel, then collapsed intoa bundle of dead rags.
"You got one!" McLean yelled triumphantly.
"Did--did I? I'm sorry--I mean--" Her voice trailed choked with fear.
* * * * *
He looked quickly at her. The girl's eyes were filled with tears. "Ididn't really mean to do it," she blubbered.
"Cut out that damned caterwauling!" he ordered. "This is war. The factthat just you and me, and some wild Martian Indians, are involved inthis war doesn't make it any less deadly. If we don't get them, they'llget us." He held up his bandaged hand. "Do you think the tribesman whodid that was after my fingers? He wasn't! What he wanted was my head!"
"All right, all right, I understand this intellectually, it's just thatmy emotions got involved."
"Get them uninvolved," he said. "How could you see that Martian when Icouldn't?"
"Better ability to differentiate colors, probably," the girl answered."Women can usually see colors better than men. That was the way I pickedhim out."
"Do some more differentiating between colors," he invited, waving herback to the sight of the Rangeley. "Maybe, by Harry, we'll get out ofhere alive after all!" Hope surged in his voice. "If we do--"
"If we do, then what?" the girl asked.
He shook his head. "If we do get out, I couldn't tell you anyhow.There's no point in talking. But in case we don't get out, I want you toknow that you're a mighty nice kid."
"Well--thanks." Her eyes were deep blue again, like the skies of Earth.She moved toward him.
"Hey, what did you do that for?"
"Just an impulse. I always kiss men who tell me I'm a nice kid."
"Nice kid, nice kid, nice kid," McLean said.
"You're too eager." The blush on her cheeks was visible through thesand. Hastily she applied her eye to the sight of the Rangeley. McLeansighed. He had never had a girl. It seemed to him that fate was playinghim a cruel joke to try to give him one under these conditions, in ahole in the sand with wild Martian tribesmen surrounding him. Hementally estimated the distance to the desert buggy, considered theirchances of making this trip and arriving alive. He was shaking his headat his own estimate when the Rangeley burped again.
"I missed!" the girl said. "Oh! Here he comes!"
McLean shoved her away from the sight. The Martian was moving towardthem, fast. Instead of a gun, he had a spear.
"You didn't miss," the roustabout said. "You hit him but you onlywounded him. This is his death charge!"
* * * * *
He pressed the trigger of the Rangeley. The gun burped twice. In thedistance the exploding slugs threw up small geysers in the sand. Thenative kept coming. In the sight, he looked to be ten feet tall.Vaulting the Rangeley, he seemed to grow even more in stature. Hescreamed at the top of his lungs as he thrust downward with the spear.
McLean shoved the girl away from him, rolled in the other direction. Hecaught a glimpse of a metal spear point burying itself in the sand inthe exact spot where he had been lying. The roustabout wrapped both armsaround the legs of the Martian and yanked hard. The fellow came down, ontop of McLean. The human shoved him aside.
The Martian was a twisting, squirming, raging, biting, clawing, kickingwild tangle of knobby knees and knobbier elbows. Whichever of theseknobby joints hit, it hurt. The fellow had a knife in his belt, which hewas struggling to get free. McLean, seeing the knife, was trying equallyhard to keep him from getting it.
The human caught the hilt of the knife with his left hand. With hisright fist, he struck at the native's stomach. Grunting, the Martianopened his mouth and tried to bite McLean. The roustabout, no strangerto this kind of fighting, butted him in the open mouth with the top ofhis head, then struck again, savagely, at the stomach. He felt his fistsink home in the leathery tissue there.
The native grunted and went limp. McLean jerked the knife from itsscabbard. He did not have to use it. A series of fine tremors passingthrough his body, the Martian was dying. The explosive slug from theRangeley had finally done its work. With relief McLean let the bodydrop.
* * * * *
McLean wiped sweat and sand from his face. "That was the death charge,all right. But you didn't miss. See--" He pointed to the wound in theMartian's chest.
The Rangeley stopped burping as the girl took her eyes from the sightand looked around. Glancing at the Martian, she hastily averted herface. An instant later, she was back at the sight. The Rangeley beganburping again.
McLean had the impression that all the time he had been fighting withthe Martian, the Rangeley had been burping.
She had kept the gun going!
There was something he wanted to say to this archaeologist. He waiteduntil he had enough breath to say it.
"You're all right," he said at last. "I mean you use your head and keepthe others holed up while I fight this one."
She flashed a smile at him. "They're not holed up, they're running," sheanswered.
McLean lifted his head above the level of the hole. A corpse wassprawled almost at the muzzle of the Rangeley. A second lay fifty feetaway. A third was perhaps a hundred yards distant.
While he had been fighting the berserk Martian, the others had seizedthe opportunity to charge.
"Good girl! You saved our necks." He watched the running tribesmen. Shewas keeping the sand at their heels thoroughly stirred up with slugsfrom the Rangeley.
"Wonderful!" McLean breathed. "Lift your sights just a little--"
The Rangeley went into silence. Looking down, he saw that her shoulderswere shaking with sobs.
"I know how you feel," he said, gently. "But you had to do it, to saveour necks. Come on! Let's get back to our car while they're stillrunning and we have the chance!" He swung into action.
* * * * *
Collapsing the sight into place, he swung the Rangeley and its tripodmounting over his shoulder. Catching the girl by one hand, he began torun.
To both, the car looked like heaven. It was that, and more. Here in thisdesert each had found in the other something that he had searched forall his life and had not found. There was heaven in this thought. McLeancould hear the girl panting as she ran beside him, but she was alsolaughing. He began to laugh too, from pure happiness. He squeezed herhand and she squeezed back.
His laughter went into quick silence as he saw the tube of the needleray gun projecting past the rear tire of the desert car. The bright,baleful eye of a Martian crou
ching there was visible behind the weapon.
"It's a trap!" he gasped. "They ran on purpose, knowing we would beat itto our car as soon as they were gone."
Skidding to a halt, he tried to bring the Rangeley off his shoulder. Theneedle ray gun winked at him. He coughed and went down in the sand.
The gun winked again, spitting its bright eye of light at the girl. Shewent down like a falling doll.
McLean pulled himself up on one knee and one hand. There was a hole inhis chest as big as his fist, but there was no pain. The high energyradiation from the needle gun seared the nerve endings so that nosensations were
The Next Time We Die Page 2