Matthews spat. "Old man Gorham has command of four hundred men down at the ship. They'll shoot anybody that comes close on sight." He looked up at Moe, caught the old man's blue eyes sharply. "I don't like this guy, Moe. I think we'd better take care of him." Moe shook his head. "Take it easy, Matt. The man thinks maybe he can get this siege broken. Thinks Gorham may surrender if he knows what's happened--in Washington, all over the country." Loevy nodded, bobbing his head eagerly. "I knew Gorham--before the crash. He's an old-guard soldier, he'll honor a truce flag." His voice was crisp in the still night air. "You want to get your hands on that ship--that's all you want, the whole crowd of you out here. Nothing else. So why risk a fight, risk getting killed, if I can get Gorham to surrender to you?" Matt grinned unpleasantly. "Why do you think they call him the Bulldog? He'll never give up--until we starve him out. We've got the time, and the men, and the food. They can't last much longer--" Loevy frowned in annoyance. "I say you may not need to wait." * * * * * Matthews climbed to his feet and walked slowly over to the edge of the rocks where the camp was situated. It was on the edge of the desert, and down below sand and sage stretched for miles in the pale moonlight. On either side he could see the flicker of the other campfires, forming a huge circle, many miles in diameter. As he stood watching, his ear unconsciously picked up the rustle of silent footsteps on the trail leading to the nearest campfire away--the guard-line which closed the circle tight. But he was not interested in the guard lines tonight. They were well guarded, no one could get through them. There were half a dozen dead soldiers lying out in the desert to attest to that, soldiers who had tried to break through to the main highway during the past three weeks. What held Matt's interest right now was the huge cyclone-fence enclosure in the center of the circle of fires. Inside the fence he could see the low, flat buildings of the Rocket Development Project, and in the moonlight he could make out the lines of the Ship itself, standing tall and lifeless in the darkness. He watched it for a moment, and his fists clenched. He whirled back to the fire, lifting the city stranger up by the collar, dragging his face up close to his. "Why do you want to go down there?" he snarled. Loevy's face was purple, and he gasped for breath. "Because there's no point in letting four hundred innocent men be slaughtered when you can have the Ship without firing a gun. That's why!" "My but we're noble," Matt snapped. "What do you care how many are killed? Who sent you here in the first place? Where did you get a 'copter to fly over here in?" Loevy shook himself free, glaring up at the giant standing over him. "I stole a 'copter, if you have to know. And nobody sent me--" "How did you know we were here?"