"Like dogs! Like mangy dogs filthy with vermin they cage us in this stinking hole! And do we rebel? Nay! Like whipped curs we bow before the cursed Videlians--when even our food and drink must be shared with the castoffs of their race!" He glowered across the room to another fire, gathered about which was a tiny knot of Videlians. An elderly man looked to be leader of these, for as the Coptic chieftain let loose his blast, one of the Martian prisoners stirred, would have risen to reply had not the older man stayed him. Fellow of the Copt's clan muttered hoarse approval of his words; from other groups came rumblings of encouragement. But one prisoner--an Erse, Ramey guessed, or perhaps a Cym--laughed sardonically. "And what would you do about it, Tauthus of Cush?" The mighty one's eyes glinted in the firelight like shards of flint. "I would talk less," he bellowed in reply, "and act more! I would regain a vestige of my lost manhood, beginning by wreaking vengeance on those who are of the race of our oppressors. Like _this_!" And like a cat leaping, so swiftly that none could move to deter him, he rushed from his own fire to that where gathered the Videlians. With one blow he felled a startled Martian youth jumping up to meet him. Then, gripping the old man in strong hands, he yanked him to his feet. Light shone on a scrap of metal in his hands, a rude knife painstakingly wrought from a forgotten file. "Thus," he roared, "to all Videlians!" The raw blade descended.... * * * * * But if all others stood too stunned to move, not so Ramey Winters. A fighting-man himself, he had recognized instantly that there was no-acting in the defi of Tauthus of Cush. The Copt was in deadly earnest. And even as his arm upraised, Ramey thrust forward boldly into the chamber. His voice ringing unexpectedly loud in the echoing vaults, had the explosive vigor of lightning. "_Hold!_" he cried. "Strike not, son of Earth!" As a moment frozen in imperishable pigments, everything stopped! The cry of blood-lusting voices dwindled into shocked silence ... the upraised arm fell not ... the straining figures locked in fantastic poses as if carven so. Then with infinite slowness the head of Tauthus turned. His eyes sought and found his accoster, narrowed menacingly. "And who are you," he rumbled, "to give commands?" There was still an automatic beneath Ramey's girdle, a weapon which the Videlians, unsuspecting of its nature, had not taken from him. But he made no move to use it. Instead, he stepped forward still farther that the light might shine upon his features. His face was grave and anxious, his tone beseeching. "An earthman like yourself, Tauthus of Cush. And a prisoner. But one who realizes that in wanton destruction of each other does not lie the way of our salvation." "The Videlians," said Tauthus grimly, "are our captors and our foes. This aged stick is a Videlian--"