The moments that followed were covered with noisy confusion. At Marc's first movement, the brothers left their work with a cry of dismay. Cecil whirled about, a heavy wrench in his hand. He raised it menacingly and Marc ran toward him. Toffee ran toward Gerald, but her value as a combatant was negligible. Gerald quickly shoved her aside and, as she fell to the floor, ran to the aid of his brother. It was just as Marc raised the pipe over Cecil's head that Gerald, in a headlong dash, butted him squarely and brutally in the pit of the stomach and sent him doubling forward in a convulsion of agony. Cecil was quick to seize the opportunity to use his wrench. He swung it upward and brought it down with savage strength. But the blow was inaccurate. It missed Marc's head and crashed dully into his shoulder. With a cry of pain, Marc twisted to one side and fell to the floor. He lay inert as though the blow had paralyzed him. Toffee, from her position, had a jumbled impression of Gerald running in another direction, toward a table upon which lay two guns. He was going to kill Marc! She jumped quickly to her feet and ran unknowingly to the switch panel on the wall. Something had to be done! She began pulling switches with frenzied swiftness. It was as her hand pressed frantically on the fourth one, that everything was suddenly plunged into blackness. For a moment she leaned against the panel, weak with relief. There was stark silence in the old house for a brief moment, and then the darkness was filled with sound; curses, a dull dragging, the clang of equipment being tumbled over. Toffee waited breathlessly, then moved forward to the place where Marc had fallen. She felt in the darkness for him, but he wasn't there. "Marc!" she called. But her voice was drowned out by the sudden loud rumblings of machinery. Then a great blast of cold air swept through the building, and Toffee felt a dampness on her face. She turned and looked upward. The turret at the top of the large catapult had been opened! Even as she looked, a flash of lightning squirmed through the sky and illuminated the entire building. Toffee caught a glimpse of George, lifting Marc into the cartridge on the catapult. "Marc!" she screamed, and ran forward. * * * * * There was also a cry from the Blemishes. But she didn't stop to listen. In the darkness she felt her way rapidly through the machinery to the base of the catapult. As another streak of lightning writhed across the sky, she saw George climbing down from the scaffolding and moving toward the switch. She reached out and grabbed wildly at his sleeve. "Stop!" she cried. "It isn't fair!"