Swede and Al burst in, as usual, asked no questions. But Birchall was babbling at a terrific rate. "Shut up!" Limpy said tensely. Mac stared at the ocean. His jaw muscles suddenly bunched into hard knots. At wide intervals, six black waves were lapping over the shore and rolling down on the mine like a flood--a deluge with gigantic mandibles and fiendish cunning, a torrent miles long and spread far over the muddy plain. "That's never happened before," Limpy whispered. "It was always one colony to a mine." Swede and Al took turns at the binoculars. No change came over Swede's face. Birchall's, though, contracted in horror. "They got together!" he yapped. "We're done for, Mac! We can't fight six colonies all at once, and without a boat!" Scowling, Mac jammed his hands into his pockets. "They're using holding attacks on the other mines to tie up help from Adonis City. Meanwhile, they're concentrating their main force here." "Smart little devils," rumbled Swede. "We ought to quit!" Al chattered. "We can't lick them!" His face whiter and more contorted than ever, Limpy said: "Why don't you guys beat it?" Mac's head jerked up sharply. Swede looked at Limpy in mild surprise. Al Birchall's chin dropped. "What do you mean--us guys?" Al demanded. "What about you?" Both sides of Limpy's face grinned sardonically. "No boat, all the animals set free--you'll have to run for it. And me? Well, I'm not much good at running. But you three can escape, if I'm not along to hold you back." "I'm a heel," snarled Birchall. "Forget what I said." "Sure, Limpy," Swede added with clumsy joviality. "This little ape is always talking before he thinks. We're sticking--all of us." "Cut it out!" snapped Limpy. "Somebody has to stay here to throw the dynamite switch. I don't need any help." "Nobody's throwing any switch," Mac declared. "This is our mine, and no damned vermin are taking it over!" "But you'll never beat them," pleaded Limpy. "And even if you did, they'd only keep coming back until they got the place. You can't wipe them out once and for all." "Someday, somebody will," Mac said. "In the meantime, we can fight like hell. 'Pedes haven't any more intelligence than a bee, but even they get tired of being slaughtered." "A bee?" Al asked. "I thought 'pedes were smart devils." "Not individually, according to Graves, the old-time biologist." "Then how can they plan and act all together?" "They have some way of coordinating, Graves claimed. How does a beehive act as a unit? We don't know, but it does just the same." "Can't I talk you fellows into leaving?" begged Limpy. "No!" Al stated flatly. Limpy shrugged. Shuffling over to the window, he pointed down at the closed-cabin tractor beside the smelter. "Then how about letting me use that as a tank?" he asked. "I'm not much good here, anyhow. The 'pedes wouldn't be able to get at me, inside the cabin, and I could crush and burn them down till they quit."