Murky morning suffused the perpetually clouded sky, and once more we pushed on toward our goal, distant Deliphon--so near and yet so far. Much to the relief of everyone, we came out of the jungle into a comparatively open country. High grasses grew about us, but the going was much easier than we had experienced while in the jungle. The land before us was a bit rolling and hilly. Leafy copses dotted the landscape as far as the eye might reach. In the open, the danger from lurking beasts was at a minimum. Our hopes rose higher. It was around noon when the space ship from the south cruised into view above us. Cragley viewed it in consternation. "The brigands! Now we're up against it!" For a moment, pandemonium reigned among the frightened passengers. All had plans, each one trying to put his own into force at once. Out of the chaos, Captain Cragley gathered order. "Head for the bushes!" he cried. "We're all armed! If they come too close, let them have it!" The assurance in Cragley's voice I knew was faked. Like him, I realized the desperate odds which confronted us. The ship was high above. We had plenty of time to scurry for cover before it dropped lower. Cragley and Quentin arranged us to the best advantage, and we waited for the initiative of the outlaws of Venus. The ship descended several hundred feet away. Our retreat into the bushes had been carefully watched. Several men left the craft and came slowly, uncertainly, toward our position. "Stop where you are!" snapped Cragley from his place of concealment. "Come across wi' the metal!" shouted one of them in a high pitched voice. "An' get outa there--or get riddled!" Cragley's reply was a blue spurt from the muzzle of his pistol. The distance was much too far for accurate firing, but the charge went dangerously close. The outlaws immediately turned tail and ran for their craft. We waited for their next act, knowing that the battle had only commenced. The space ship shot skyward, circling our wide clump of bushes. The survivors of the _C-49_ tensed themselves for a destructive bombardment from above. It did not come. Captain Cragley was plainly surprised. He was aware that the outlaw ship carried instant death if they chose to use it. The craft hovered some two hundred feet above us. Cruising slowly in a circle, it suddenly dropped four objects well outside our improvised stronghold. The projectiles were shaped like torpedoes. The explosions which were expected never came. The projectiles stood straight up from the ground, their front ends imbedded deeply. It was all a strange procedure. Cragley was nonplussed. "They probably contain explosives," ventured Quentin, answering the question he knew stood out in the captain's mind. "I'm not so sure of that," said Cragley.