"Kill him?" "No. He'll glide out of power if I can ram his tail." He followed Cal up and over in a tight loop, dropping into an ear-drumming dive instead of completing the loop. Cal pulled out and whipped to the left, and Benj, again trying to anticipate the action, missed and turned right. Cal was lost again in the fog. Cal waited for several minutes to see if he had really lost Benj, hoping and yet knowing that he had not. Yet there was quite a difference between knowing where he was and being within ten feet of his tail. In ten minutes, and one hundred miles later on the straightaway, Cal opened the throttle to the last notch and by compass streaked directly onto his former course. Benj streaked after him, the resonator in operation, as soon as enough distance had been put between them for the gadget to function. Then Benj started to overhaul Cal's swift flier. Meanwhile, Cal tried the Key. The answering signal indicated that he was approaching the site of Murdoch's Hoard, and not more than fifteen minutes later the direction indicator whipped to the rear. Cal had passed directly over it. He circled in a tight hairpin turn and went back. He forgot about Benj. The black ship came hurtling out of the fog just a few feet to his right. * * * * * Before, they had been approaching on an angle, which had given both men time to turn. But now they were approaching dead on at better than six hundred miles per hour each. They zoomed out of the fog brushed wingtips and were gone into the fog again, but not without damage. At their velocity, the contact smashed the wingtips and whirled them slightly around. Like falling leaves they came down, and before they could strike the ground with killing crashes, they both regained consciousness. Benj's ship was beyond repair. It fell suddenly, even though Benj struggled with the controls. It hit ground and skidded madly along the murky swamp, throwing gouts of warm water high and shedding its own parts as it slid. It _whooshed_ to a stop, settled a bit into the muddy ground and was silent. Cal had more luck. By straining the wiring in his ship to the burnout point he fought the even keel back and came down to a slow, side-slippage that propelled him crabwise. He dropped lower and lower, and because there was nothing against which to measure his course, he did not know that he was describing a huge circle. His ship came to ground not more than a half-mile from Benj's demolished ship. He set the master oscillator running in his ship and then put the field-locator in his pocket. No matter where he went, he could return to his own craft, at least. Then he stepped out of his flier to inspect the damage. A roaring went up that attracted Cal's attention. He turned, and started to beat through the swamp towards the noise.