One machine barred Scott's way and he smashed at it savagely with the heavy hammer. The blow flung it aside, crippled, dented, half-smashed. Hugh was already at the cradle, clambering up the superstructure. A machine rushed at Scott, steel arms flailing. Ducking a murderous swipe, the Earthman brought his sledge into play. It sheared through the arms, smashed into the body of the machine. The stricken mechanism seemed to reel, staggered erratically, then collapsed upon the sand. In two leaps Scott gained the superstructure, scaled it and straddled the cradle. His sledge smashed savagely upon a climbing mechanism, flung it to the ground. But others were swarming up the steel lattice work. Tentacles snaked out, seeking to entrap him. A wicked blow on the leg almost brought him down. His sledge worked steadily and at the foot of the cradle broken mechanisms bore testimony to its execution. [Illustration: _The spider-machines attacked in a grim deadly silence._] Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Hugh had inserted the envelope carrying the message in the inner container with the seeds, was tightening the screwcap. All that remained was to screw on the larger, heavier outer cap. But only seconds must remain, precious seconds before the rocket blasted. And before that happened they had to be away from the cradle, for the backlash of flames would burn them to a cinder. Scott felt perspiration streaming over his body, running off his eyelids, blearing his sight, trickling down his nose. He heard the rasp of metal as Hugh drove home the cap with savage thrusts of the wrench. A machine rushed up the lattice at him and he smashed at it with unreasoning fury. The head of the sledge bit deep into the metal body. A tentacle wrapped about his leg and jerked. He felt himself losing his balance, tumbling off the cradle into the melee of threshing metal things beneath him. * * * * * Then he was on the ground, buffeted and pounded by the maddened metal creatures. He fought savagely, blindly staggering forward. The shatterproof glass in his vision plate had been "broken," its texture smashed into a million tiny crisscross lines, until it was like frosted glass. He heard the tough fabric of his suit rip with a screeching sound. The bugs still were hammering against him. The thin, acrid atmosphere of Mars burned into his nose and his lungs labored. Unseeingly, he swung his sledge in swathlike circles. Shrieking like a wild Indian, he felt it smash and slam into the bodies of his metallic opponents. Then the world was blotted out by a resounding roar, a Niagara of sound that beat in waves against one's body. That was the rocket leaving. "Hugh!" he yelled insanely. "Hugh, we did it!" The attack had fallen away and he stood unsteadily on his feet, panting, stiff from punishment, but filled with exultation.