Flip fingered the rope and stared at the woman. Would she really do this? And would he talk? No! Damned if he would! He'd sink first. But the mine was worthless. Why not tell her where it was? But he had no reason to expect a lesser fate if he did. Besides it was a matter of honor now--and he knew one way to enhance that honor. "Hold the rope when you shove him in," said the woman, her eyes mere slits against the mist. "Let him sink slowly." The other two men had their guns trained upon Flip. He met Thorg's beady eyes. "Son of a veedle!" Flip said in his face. Suddenly he swooped down and upward with one long arm. The man was shoved forward, to the brink of the rock. He tottered there a long second, waving his arms frantically. Flip sprang toward the woman. Flame burst around him, he wasn't hit. He heard Thorg scream. He crashed into the woman as he heard a splash, more screams. Then there was silence and he was struggling on the wet-rock, the woman fighting like a tiger. Flip found her gun hand, wrenched the weapon from her. He got to his knees. The two men stood before him, one holding his gun on Charlie. They couldn't fire at Flip for fear of hitting the woman. Flip started to blast them, then turned the pistol upon their Captain Vixen beside him. "Drop your guns or I'll kill her," he said. He leveled his pistol, got to his feet and backed away from the group. "Take their guns, Charlie," he grinned. "We're not licked yet." "No?" said the woman. His eyes flicked to her. She had a pistol in her hand. Flip had his sights dead upon her. Damn, he thought; he'd forgotten she carried two guns. They stared at each other--stalemated. The very wind was still. "I've never killed a woman--" Flip said. "I've never killed a man," she said quietly, "before." For the first time she smiled. Flip's gun was suddenly jerked away, fire streaked toward him, he heard the crash. She had shot the gun from his hand. * * * * * He stood there, helpless and dumb. Captain Vixen lit a cigarette, her gun still ready. She looked at him a long moment. "Well," she said, green eyes never leaving his, "what are we waiting for?" She motioned to the man with the scar. "Take the end of the rope, Voss. Our Earthian friend hasn't tasted the mud yet, you know." Charlie hadn't said anything. A gun at his back, his white mustache ruffled by the wind, he stood silently watching Flip, holding his broken arm. The choice was up to Flip. "Look at the mud, Flip Miller," said the woman. "There is not even a ripple where Thorg went down. He went quickly. You shall dip slowly, that the conceit of your tongue and the rashness of your mind may be reflected upon with regret." Flip glanced over the rock's edge. There was only the quiet, waiting mire; no trace of Thorg's body. "Vixen--" he began. He never finished for Voss pushed him over with both hands.