"No," said Matt. "We'll wait until the delegates from the Amazons come aboard to parley." An expression of consternation passed across Isaac's visage. "But, good Lord, Matt, they're dangerous! There's no telling what treachery they might be planning." "We need women, don't we? We'll turn the tables on them!" The director swallowed. "But they're dangerous," he repeated vehemently. "They're wild, I tell you. They're violent, lawless wenches. Why, I'd sooner be ..." he shut his mouth, glancing at Faith in embarrassment. The middle-aged nurse's eyes were twinkling. Matt said imperturbably, "In that case, we'll tame 'em!" * * * * * Margot Drake appeared at the edge of the charred circle surrounding the _Argus_ promptly at 11:30. Matt was waiting for her at the airlock. "Hello," she called. "Lower the ladder, please." The woman's red hair shone like molten gold in the sun, and Matt realized that she had taken considerable pains to rig herself out in as fetching a manner as possible. She was wearing a forest green jacket that hugged her breasts as if it had been lacquered on. Her short green skirt sheathed her hips before flaring out to expose a goodly length of well-turned legs. The only incongruous note was a high powered rifle that she carried in a competent fashion. "How many are with you?" Matt called, making no move to lower the ladder. Margot hesitated. "Eighteen." "Tell them to show themselves." The red-headed leader gave a sharp command and a flock of girls appeared laughing from the woods. Matt whistled silently. Isaac had called her shot. Margot unquestionably had culled the most attractive wenches in her band and dressed them scantily but ravishingly. They flocked about their leader, staring up curiously at the ship. "We didn't expect so many," called Matt, "but leave your rifles at the edge of the wood before you come aboard. You'll have to be searched. We aren't taking any chances." [Illustration: "_Leave your guns before you come aboard._"] Again there was a slight hesitation on Margot Drake's part. Then she leaned her gun against a tree and bade her girls to do likewise. Matt lowered the ladder. As they swarmed up one at a time, Lynn, who was standing just behind him, ran her hands swiftly over them from neck to toes. They were carrying no concealed weapons. "You're invited to lunch before we show you about." He glanced at his watch as a gong sounded from down the passage. "It's served now. If you'll just step this way...." "No tricks," admonished Margot in a suspicious voice. "The rocket gun is still trained on the ship." "No tricks." He grinned amiably. When they came to the messroom door, he stood aside for them to enter. Cloths had been laid, tables set. Food steamed on the side-board. They trooped inside, giggling and chattering. No sooner had the last girl passed across the threshold than Matt slammed the heavy door and barred it.