Hurled on by his wrath, Lonny made a dive for the traitorous visage, but as he dove his foot slipped and he skidded sidewise. His head came down upon a railing brace with a sickening impact and the gun went spinning. Through the darkening chaos of his mind he felt the submarine starting to submerge. The mud was creeping up toward his body, was sucking at Lana's ankles, crawling in a tiny avalanche toward the dome of the hatch cover--now closed. They were beaten--whipped--done for. Now Raeburn could go back to earth--concocting some wild tale as to their death. He would be laughing at them and enjoying every luxury. Lana was either dead game or so angry at Link's betrayal that she refused to give up. Though her face was distorted terribly from heavy pressure and agony, she pressed onward--was crumbling at last to her knees--and pointing wildly. Lonny saw what she meant. He could have shouted for joy but breath would not come from his compressed lungs. The gun had fallen upon the lip of the hatch cowling and now the cover was jammed. Through a narrow slit he saw Raeburn's eyes--narrowed and beastial--and his hands, working like mad to free the mechanism. If he went down that way--it meant death for him too. Under heavy pressure the mud would send terrible pseudopods grasping through the slit. Lonny could have laughed. But there was no time for gloating. He saw the hatch door come up again, and then his foot had settled over the gun and he was helping Lana down the stairway. "Tough luck, Link," he whispered huskily, as weakness overcame him and he tumbled down the stairs. Dimly he became aware that the hatch lid was down securely now, and that the submarine was sinking rapidly. Lana Hilton clung to the upper ladderway for a moment, then released her hold from paralyzed fingers and fell like a rag doll, bouncing down the steps to come to rest across his own body. A trickle of blood came from her mouth, but she was grinning. That was all Lonny knew, for the darkness came up to swallow everything. IV "Who hit'm boss? Boss hit'm heap hard!" Baron Munchy, hardly able to lift the damp towel, was dragging it across his mouth, smothering him. Link Raeburn watched the operation interestedly, but not cautiously, from his position before the instrument panel. Lana Hilton was sitting up dazedly, rearranging her hair. "I knew it was too much to expect," she commented. "Couldn't leave us alone, could you, Link? I was just beginning to like the idea of getting away from you for good. Ooooh, my head!" "I hope our friend had the foresight to stock his larder well," said Link Raeburn with a shrug. "We may be cooped up here for some time." Lonny sat up, shaking his head dazedly. "I ought to whale the tar out of you," he cried angrily. "But I've got more sense than to do it at a time like this. Maybe I'll do it when the sub-boat comes up to the surface again. I never did have too much faith in you, Raeburn."