"Well, what are you going to do about it?" shrieked Perkins. "Are you going to sit there and lecture all day?" "I am going to do nothing whatever," answered the scientist coldly. "If you had any brains you would see that you are in no danger. Miss Spencer will undoubtedly kill you if you attack her--not otherwise. That is an Anglo-Saxon weakness." "Did you see me take the pistols?" queried Dorothy. "Certainly. I'm not blind. You have one of them in your right coat pocket now." "Then why didn't you, or don't you, try to take it away from me?" she asked in wonder. "If I had objected to your having them, you would never have got them. If I didn't want you to have a gun now, I would take it away from you. You know that, don't you?" and his black eyes stared into her violet ones with such calm certainty of his ability that she felt her heart sink. "Yes," she admitted finally, "I believe you could--that is, unless I were angry enough to shoot you." "That wouldn't help you. I can shoot faster and straighter than you can, and would shoot it out of your hand. However, I have no objection to your having the gun, since it is no part of my plan to offer you any further indignity of any kind. Even if you had the necessary coldness of nerve or cruelty of disposition--of which I have one, Perkins the other, and you neither--you wouldn't shoot me now, because you can't get back to the earth without me. After we get back I will take the guns away from both of you if I think it desirable. In the meantime, play with them all you please." "Has Perkins any more knives or guns or things in his room?" demanded Dorothy. "How should I know?" indifferently; then, as both girls started for Perkins' room he ordered brusquely: "Sit down, Miss Vaneman. Let them fight it out. Perkins has his orders to lay off you--you lay off him. I'm not taking any chances of getting you hurt, that's one reason I wanted you armed. If he gets gay, shoot him; otherwise, hands off completely." Dorothy threw up her head in defiance, but meeting his cold stare she paused irresolutely and finally sat down, biting her lips in anger, while the other girl went on. "That's better. She doesn't need any help to whip that yellow dog. He's whipped already. He never would think of fighting unless the odds were three to one in his favor." * * * * * When Margaret had returned from a fruitless search of Perkins' room and had assured herself that he had no more weapons concealed about his person, she thrust the pistol back into her pocket and sat down. "That ends that," she declared. "I guess you will be good now, won't you, Mr. Perkins?" "Yes," that worthy muttered. "I have to be, now that you've got the drop on me and DuQuesne's gone back on me. But wait until we get back! I'll get you then, you...."