The balloon drifted abreast of them, stopped, then moved slowly toward them. Max saw that Sam had his gun out. He held his fire until the hobgoblin hovered above them. The shot burned needles and branches but it brought down the thing.
"Sam! There's another one!"
"Where?" Sam looked where Max pointed. The second hobgoblin apparently had been covering the first, higher and farther out. Even as they watched it veered away and gained altitude.
"Get it, Sam!"
Sam stood up. "Too late. Too far and too late. Well, kids, away we go. No need to keep quiet. Sit down and slide, Ellie; it'll save your feet some."
Down they went, scattering rocks and tearing their clothes, with Mr. Chips on her own and enjoying it. At the bottom Sam said, "Max, how fast can you do a half mile?"
"I don't know. Three minutes."
"Make it less. Get going. I'll help Ellie."
"No."
"You get there! You're needed."
"No!"
Sam sighed. "Always some confounded hero. Take her other arm."
They made a couple of hundred yards half carrying Eldreth, when she shook them off. "I can go faster alone," she panted.
"Okay, let's go!" Sam rasped.
She proved herself right. Ignoring her injured feet she pumped her short legs in a fashion which did not require Max's best speed to keep up, but nevertheless kept him panting. The ship grew larger ahead of them. Max saw that the cage was up and wondered how long it would take to attract attention and get it lowered.
They were half way when Sam shouted, "Here comes the cavalry! Speed it up!"
Max glanced over his shoulder. A herd of centaurs--a dozen, two dozen, perhaps more--was sweeping toward them from the hills on a diagonal plainly intended to cut them off. Ellie saw them too and did speed up, with a burst that momentarily outdistanced Max.
They had cut the distance to a few hundred yards when the cage swung free of the lock and sank lazily toward the ground. Max started to shout that they were going to make it when he heard the drum of hooves close behind. Sam yelled, "Beat it, kids! Into the ship." He stopped.
Max stopped too, while shouting, "_Run_, Ellie!
Sam snarled, "Run for it, I said! What can _you_ do? Without a gun?"
Max hesitated, torn by an unbearable decision. He saw that Ellie had stopped. Sam glanced back, then backhanded Max across the mouth. "Get moving! Get her inside!"
Max moved, gathering Ellie in one arm and urging her on. Behind them Sam Anderson turned to face his death ... dropping to one knee and steadying his pistol over his left forearm in precisely the form approved by the manual.
20 "--A SHIP IS NOT JUST STEEL--"
The cage hit the ground, four men swarmed out as Max stumbled inside and dumped Ellie on the floor. The door clanged shut behind them, but not too quickly for Mr. Chips. The spider puppy ran to Ellie, clutched her arm and wailed. Eldreth tried to sit up.
"You all right?" Max demanded.
"Uh, sure. But ..." She shut up as Max whirled around and tried to open the cage door.
It would not open. It was not until then that he realized that the lift was off the ground and rising slowly. He punched the "stop" control.
Nothing happened, the car continued upward. About ten feet off the ground it stopped. Max looked up through the grille roof and shouted, "Hey! In the lock, there! Lower away!"
He was ignored. He tried the door again--uselessly, as its safety catch prevented it being opened when the cage was in the air. Frustrated and helpless, he grabbed the bars and looked out. He could see nothing of Sam. The centaurs were milling around in the middle distance. He saw one stumble and go down and then another. Then he saw the four men who had passed him. They were on their bellies in fair skirmish line not far from the cage, each with a shoulder gun and each firing carefully. The range was not great, about three hundred yards; they were taking steady toll. Each silent, almost invisible bolt picked off a centaur.
Max counted seven more centaur casualties--then the monsters broke and ran, scattering toward the hills. The firing continued and several more dropped before distance made firing uncertain.
Somebody shouted, "Hold your fire!" and one of the men stumbled to his feet and ran toward the center of the battle. The others got up and followed him.
When they came back they were carrying something that looked like a bundle of clothing. The cage lowered to the ground, they came inside and laid it gently on the floor. One of them glanced at Eldreth, then quickly removed his jacket and laid it over Sam's face. Not until then did Max see that it was Mr. Walther.
The other three were Mr. Daigler, a power man whom Max knew only by sight, and Chief Steward Giordano. The fat man was crying openly. "The filthy vermin!" he sobbed. "He never had a chance. They just rode him down and trompled him." He choked, then added, "But he got at least five of 'em." His eyes rested on Max without recognition. "He made 'em pay."
Eldreth said gently, "Is he dead?"
"Huh? Of course. Don't talk silly." The steward turned his face away.
The car bumped to a stop. Walther looked in through the lock and said angrily, "Get those bystanders out of the way. What is this? A circus?" He turned back. "Let's get him in, men."
As he was bending to help, Max saw Eldreth being led away by Mrs. Dumont. Tenderly they carried Sam in and deposited him on the deck where the Surgeon was waiting. Walther straightened up and seemed to notice Max for the first time. "Mr. Jones? Will you see me in my stateroom as quickly as possible, please?"
"Aye aye, sir. But ..." Max looked down at his friend. "I'd like to ..."
Walther cut him short. "There's nothing you can do. Come away." He added more gently, "Make it fifteen minutes. That will give you time for a wash and a change."
Max presented himself on time, showered, his face hastily scraped, and in clean clothes--although lacking a cap. His one cap was somewhere in the far valley, lost on capture. He found Chief Engineer Compagnon and Mr. Samuels, the Purser, with the First Officer. They were seated around a table, having coffee. "Come in, Mr. Jones," Walther invited. "Sit down. Coffee?"
"Uh, yes, sir." Max discovered that he was terribly hungry. He loaded the brew with cream and sugar.
They sat for a few minutes, talking of unimportant matters, while Max drank his coffee and steadied down. Presently Walther said, "What shape are you in, Mr. Jones?"
"Why, all right, I guess, sir. Tired, maybe."
"I imagine so. I'm sorry to have to disturb you. Do you know the situation now?"
"Partly, sir. Sam told me ... Sam Anderson ..." His voice broke.
"We're sorry about Anderson," Mr. Walther said soberly. "In many ways he was one of the best men I ever served with. But go on."
Max recounted what Sam had had time to tell him, but shortened the statements about Simes and Captain Blaine to the simple fact that they were dead. Walther nodded. "Then you know what we want of you?"
"I think so, sir. You want to raise the ship, so you want me to astrogate." He hesitated. "I suppose I can."
"Mmm ... yes. But that's not all."
"Sir?"
"You must be Captain."
All three had their eyes fixed on him. Max felt lightheaded and for a moment wondered what was wrong. Their faces seemed to swell and then recede. He realized vaguely that he had had little to eat and almost no sleep for many hours and had been running on nerve--yes, that must be what was wrong with him. From a long distance away he heard Walther's voice: "... utterly necessary to leave this planet without delay. Now our legal position is clear. In space, only an astrogation officer may command. You are being asked to assume command responsibility while very young but you are the only qualified person-- therefore you _must_ do it."