The panic of the Martians in the moat communicated itself to those on the desert. Instead of joining hands to try again to overwhelm us, they broke their ranks and fled as the straggling remains of their allies from the south scrambled out of the pit around the spaceship and fled in all directions. "After them!" cried Spartan, who still believed he was our commander. But I paid no attention to him. Following a routed and disordered enemy and cutting him to pieces may be a sound military precept, but we were no army and we were outnumbered hundreds to one. It would have been plain stupidity to pursue. Axel's gun was reloaded now and he emptied it again at the retreating foe. Each bullet, whether it hit a Martian or a rock or the desert sand, increased the terror of the retreating host. Then his gun was empty. To my surprise I saw Axel half turn. Then his knees seemed to give way and he fell to the ground, clutching his side. Turning my head, I saw Spartan with an automatic in his hand, starting to level his gun at me. There was an ugly grin on his lips. He had shot Axel. As he fired, I dodged behind the barricade, on the opposite side of which Gail crouched. She had not heard the shots, of course, and had not seen Axel fall. I shouted, "Gail! Come here! Around on this side!" She couldn't understand me. She was puzzled, thought I was crazy, because her side was safe from Martians. I raised my rifle and aimed at Spartan as he came running toward Gail. I pulled the trigger, but it didn't fire. The rifle was empty. I'd sent my last bullet after the retreating Martians. As I tried to jerk my unused pistol from its holster, Spartan reached Gail with a single thirty-foot bound. He swept her from behind the barricade and held her as a shield as he turned the gun on me. I couldn't use my pistol without hitting Gail. A bullet struck the ramp to the spaceship, just beside Spartan's head, knocking a piece of metal against his arm. He didn't hear the shot, but he felt the splinter strike. He turned his head. Axel was lying on the ground, still clutching his side with his left hand, but holding his pistol in his right. Spartan lifted his gun to fire at Axel, and I, taking advantage of the instant in which he turned to defend himself, leaped. Martian gravity, being what it is, permits a man to make prodigious jumps. I sailed like a man in slow motion over the rocks and I struck Spartan, still clutching Gail, in a football tackle, bowling them over. I grabbed his gun, twisted it from his hand. Gail struggled and wriggled out of his arms. But the gravity that had aided me, now worked against me. Somehow, Spartan managed to throw himself upward and I was literally bumped into the air. He rolled out from under and dived for the gun. I came down, grabbed his foot and pulled him away, but he twisted free.