"You forget that these men are true idealists," Stephen said. "Yesterday they may have believed in the sanctity of human life. Today they believe that they will be sanctified by spilling their own blood--and they are not particular whether that blood is male or female. If you would survive, it will be necessary for us to retrench." "What is your suggestion, technician?" "I know a place where we can defend ourselves against any attack. There is an elevation not far from here where, if you recall, we stood that first time and spied upon the valley. It is sheer on all sides. We could remain there until daylight, or until you have discouraged this rebellion. It would be impossible for anyone, ascending in that loose shale, to approach us with stealth." "It is a sound plan," Turpan said. "Gather a few packages of concentrates and sufficient water." "I already have them." "Then take this woman and lead the way. I will follow. And keep in mind that in the event of trouble both of you will be the first to lose the flesh off your bones from this moisture rifle." Stephen went over and took Ellen by the hand. "Courage," he whispered. "I wish that both of us had drowned," she said. But she came with them docilely enough, and Stephen drew a sigh of relief when they were out of the illuminated area without being discovered. "Walk briskly now," Turpan said, "but do not run. That is something that I have learned in years of skirmishing with the police." At the foot of the cliff Stephen stopped and removed his shoes. "What are you doing?" Turpan demanded suspiciously. "A precaution against falling," Stephen said. "I prefer to remain fully dressed," Turpan said. "Lead on." Stephen now found that, though the pain was excruciating, his bare feet had rendered him as sure-footed as a goat, while Turpan struggled to keep his footing. Between them the girl uncomplainingly picked her way upward. And then they came to a place, as Stephen had hoped, where it was necessary to scale a sheer scarp of six or seven feet in order to gain a shelf near the summit. He had to kneel in order to help the girl up. Turpan, not tall enough to pull himself up with his arms, cursed as his boots slipped. "Extend the barrel of your rifle to me," Stephen said, "and I will pull you up until you are able to reach that overhanging bush. It will support your weight." Turpan nodded curtly. He was not happy about this. He was never happy when playing a minor role, but he appreciated the urgency of the moment. Stephen pulled and the Bedchamber Assassin strained upward. Then he grasped at the bush, and at the same moment Stephen gave a sharp, Herculean tug. Turpan snatched for the bush with both hands. "Got it," he said, and swung himself upon the ledge. "Yes," agreed Stephen, "but _I_ have the rifle." * * * * *