Then the pilot spoke. "Kept telling myself for years that scientists are all cracked," he said philosophically. "Guess this proves it." "Bill," said the Indian to Thihling, "go out and patrol the house. Let us know if anybody approaches--anybody at all." The rocketjet man left them. Brave put Grady's hands flat on the arms of the chair and lashed them down at wrist and knuckles. Then he stood back, Alan and Don and Rob a little behind him, and he said gravely, "Erin Grady, you smashed up a disk yesterday. But you weren't hurt." "I was lucky." "You sat in the regular pilot's chair as it hit?" "Sure, I--" then his eyes narrowed and he shut his mouth. "Too late," said Brave grimly. "You gave yourself away. You aren't so clever as you're supposed to be." "Whaddaya mean?" "For a superman, you're too slow on the trigger. We got into that disk before they clamped a security ring around it. We saw what happened to the chair. No human could have missed being sliced down the brisket by that juggernaut that came through the control board." "You clever, clever little bastards," said Grady venomously. "You'll be dealt with." For the first time he seemed angered at the wire that held him. He threw his weight against it, but it held firm. He glared at each of them, and Rob Pope said, "He's trying hypnotism; watch yourselves." Mariner chuckled. "He can't affect me, I'm too fat. The thought waves get lost." Brave did not even feel the tentative vibrations of the pilot's mind, but he glanced at Alan and saw that his friend was sweating. "You okay, guru?" he asked anxiously. "He's talking to me." Alan's face cleared. "But I'm not going under. I believe your treatment did the trick, Brave." * * * * * The pilot relaxed and deliberately spat on the rug. Brave reached out an arm like a tree trunk and slapped the tanned cheek, so the head rocked sideways. "We aren't going to be gentle with you, pal," said Don. "Face that. We aren't playing for marbles." Grady did not speak. Brave took eight strips of light wood, narrow and about two inches long, from his pocket. Kneeling, he fitted them neatly under the pilot's well-manicured and rather long nails. The man flipped them out with a convulsive motion of the fingers; Brave impassively brought his enormous fist down like a hammer on the back of the fellow's right hand. Grady shrieked. "Do that again and I'll break the other one," said Brave. "You red-skinned bastard!" howled Grady, "you did bust it up." "I meant to. I wanted to see if you'd be quick enough this time to simulate pain." Had Alan not known better, he would have sworn the pilot was actually suffering. "What are you talking about? Why in blue hell shouldn't I feel pain?"