It went slowly past us, only a few thousand feet higher than our level. We could see the whole outline of its pointed cylinder-hull, with the rounded dome on top. And under the dome was its open deck-space, with a little cabin superstructure in the center. I thought for a moment that by some fortunate chance it might land quite near us. There was a wide ledge a quarter of a mile away. "Anita, look." But it went past. And then I saw that it was heading for a level, plateau-like surface a few miles further on. It dropped, cautiously floating down. There was still no sign of Miko. But I realized that haste was necessary. We must be the first to join the brigand ship. I lifted Anita to her feet. "I don't think we should signal from here." "No. Miko might see it." We could not tell where he was. Down on the plains, perhaps? Or up here, somewhere in these miles of towering rocks? "Are you ready, Anita?" "Yes, Gregg." * * * * * I stared through the visors at her white, solemn face. "Yes, I'm ready," she repeated. Her hand-pressure seemed to me suddenly like a farewell. Were we plunging rashly into what was destined to mean our death? Was this a farewell? An instinct swept me not to do this thing. Why, in an hour or two I could have Anita back to the comparative safety of the Grantline buildings. The exit portes would doubtless be repaired by now. I could get her inside. She had bounded away from me, leaped down some thirty feet into the broken gully, to cross it and then up on the other side. I stood for an instant watching her fantastic shape, with the great rounded, goggled, trunked helmet and the lump on her shoulders which held the little Erentz motors. Then I made after her. It did not take us long--two or three miles of circling along the giant wall. The ship lay only a few hundred feet above our level. We stood at last on a buttelike pinnacle. The hull-porte lights of the ship were close over us. And there were moving lights up there, tiny moving spots on the adjacent rocks. The brigands had come out, prowling around to investigate their location. No signal yet from Miko. But it might come at any moment. "I'll flash now," I whispered. "Yes." The brigands had probably not yet seen us. I took the lamp from my helmet. My hand was trembling. Suppose my signal were answered by a shot? A flash from some giant projector mounted on the ship? Anita crouched behind a rock, as she had promised. I stood with my torch, and flung its switch. My puny light-beam shot up. I waved it, touched the ship with its faint glowing circle of illumination. They saw me. There was a sudden movement among the lights up there. * * * * * I semaphored: "_I am from Miko. Do not fire._" I used the open Universal Code. In Martian first, and then in English. There was no answer, but no attack. I tried again.