Then another ... and another ... and then a large piece. A hunk of rock which must have weighed half a ton. It struck one of the Jovian vessels like a sledgehammer, and a huge gap split in the spaceship's seams. There came signs of frenzied activity from aboard the enemy boat; fire spurted from stern-jets as engineers hurriedly warmed their rockets. We saw two warships, desperately trying to get under way, ram each other head on. Three more were crushed, beaten shapeless, by the tons of stony metal that smashed their very girders. The last, Ras Thuul's flagship, met its doom most horribly. It was caught as in a vise between two mountainous boulders which rolled tangentially over it. When they separated, all that remained of a once proud ship was a flattened, lacerated shred of tortured steel. [Illustration: _In the unbelievable shambles, two of the cruisers collided._] It was then, and then only, that Slops said to me: "That's all, Joey. You can turn it off now." There was something akin to sadness in his voice. I understood. I didn't feel any too good myself, watching those Jovians, foes though they were, die so frightfully. "Captain O'Hara, if we can repair the damage done by the marauders, we can now go on to Callisto and complete our mission. I--What's the matter, Captain?" Cap O'Hara was glaring at his little finger irately. "Matter? Why, confound it, I cut myself on that tin can. Look at this!" He thrust before our noses a pudgy paw, the pinky of which was leaking very feebly. I chuckled. Not so Slops; he loosed one horrified gasp, and-- "Blood!" he screamed. "Oh, gracious, I simply can't _stand_ the sight of blood! _Oooooohh!_" His face went suddenly white. And--just like that!--Captain Slops fainted dead away! The skipper said, "Well, I'll be damned!" Dazed, he knelt beside the little fellow, fumbled at his jacket collar. "Ain't that the funniest you ever saw, Dugan? Sees six ships scuttled without batting an eye-lash, and passes out at seeing a pinprick! Aw, well, it's probably shock more than anything else. I'll unloose his shirt, give him a little air--" I said, "He's the queerest guy I ever met. But he's a _man_, Skipper." Then a funny thing happened. The Skipper, strangely scarlet of face, rose suddenly from Andy's side. He croaked, "You--you wouldn't like to lay a little bet on that, Dugan?" "Huh?" I said. "On what? I don't understand--" The Old Man moaned softly. "Neither do I, Dugan. But you were wrong! Slops, here, ain't no man at all, and never was! He--_he's a girl!_" * * * * * Well, looking back on it now I can see how we should have realized it from the beginning. Sure, Captain Slops was a girl! That high, mellow voice ... the oversized uniform coat ... that prudishness which was not prudishness at all, but understandable modesty.