Ridolph strolled up Shadow Valley, approached the hangar where the inn's aircraft were housed. From the shadow of one of the fantastic Kokod trees, he counted six vehicles: three carry-alls, two air-cars like the one which had conveyed him originally to the Control station, and a sleek red sportster evidently the personal property of either See or Holpers.
Neither the hangar-men nor the pilots were in evidence; it might well be their dinner hour. Magnus Ridolph sauntered carelessly forward, whistling an air currently being heard along far-off boulevards.
He cut his whistle off sharply, moved at an accelerated rate. Fastidiously protecting his hands with a bit of rag, he snapped the repair panels from each of the observation cars, made a swift abstraction from each, did likewise for the air-cars. At the sleek sportster he paused, inspected the lines critically.
"An attractive vehicle," he said to himself, "one which might creditably serve the purposes for which I intend it."
He slid back the door, looked inside. The starter key was absent.
Steps sounded behind him. "Hey," said a rough voice, "what are you doing with Mr. See's car?"
Magnus Ridolph withdrew without haste.
"Offhand," he said, "what would you estimate the value of this vehicle?"
The hangarman paused, glowering and suspicious. "Too much not to be taken care of."
Magnus Ridolph nodded. "Thirty thousand munits, possibly."
"Thirty thousand on Earth. This is Kokod."
"I'm thinking of offering See a hundred thousand munits."
The hangarman blinked. "He'd be crazy not to take it."
"I suppose so," sighed Magnus Ridolph. "But first, I wanted to satisfy myself as to the craft's mechanical condition. I fear it has been neglected."
The hangarman snorted in indignation. "Not on your life."
Magnus Ridolph frowned. "That tube is certainly spitting. I can tell by the patina along the enamel."
"No such thing!" roared the hangarman. "That tube flows like a dream."
Ridolph shook his head. "I can't offer See good money for a defective vehicle... He'll be angry to lose the sale."
The hangarman's tone changed. "I tell you, that tube's good as gold... Wait, I'll show you."
He pulled a key-ring from his pocket, plugged it into the starter socket. The car quivered free of the ground, eager for flight. "See? Just what I told you?"
Magnus Ridolph said doubtfully, "It seems to be working fairly well now... You get on the telephone and tell Mr. See that I am taking his car for a trial spin, a final check..."
The mechanic looked dumbly at Magnus Ridolph, slowly turned to the speaker on the wall.
Magnus Ridolph jumped into the seat. The mechanic's voice was loud. "The gentleman that's buying your boat is giving it the once-over. Don't let him feed you no line about a bum tube; the ship is running like oil down a four mile bore. Don't take nothing else... What?... Sure he's here; he said so himself ... A little schoolteacher guy with a white beard like a nanny-goat..." The sound from the telephone caused him to jump back sharply. Anxiously, he turned to look where he had left Magnus Ridolph and Julius See's sleek red air-car.
Both had disappeared.
Mrs. Chaim roused her peacock-shaped friend Mrs. Borgage rather earlier than usual. "Hurry, Altamira; we've been so late these last few mornings, we've missed the best seats in the observation car."
Mrs. Borgage obliged by hastening her toilet; in short order the two ladies appeared in the lobby. By a peculiar coincidence both wore costumes of dark green, a color which each thought suited the other not at all. They paused by the announcement of the day's war in order to check the odds, then turned into the dining room.
They ate a hurried breakfast, set out for the loading platform. Mrs. Borgage, pausing to catch her breath and enjoy the freshness of the morning, glanced toward the roof of the inn. Mrs. Chaim rather impatiently looked over her shoulder. "Whatever are you staring at, Altamira?"
Mrs. Borgage pointed. "It's that unpleasant little man Ridolph ... I can't fathom what he's up to. He seems to be fixing some sort of branch to the roof."
Mrs. Chaim sniffed. "I thought the management had turned him out."
"Isn't that Mr. See's air-car on the roof behind him?"
"I really couldn't say," replied Mrs. Chaim. "I know very little of such things." She turned away toward the loading platform, and Mrs. Borgage followed.
Once more they met interruption; this time in the form of the pilot. His clothes were disarranged; his face had suffered scratching and contusion. Running wild-eyed, he careened into the two green-clad ladies, disengaged himself and continued without apology.
Mrs. Chaim bridled in outrage. "Well, I never!" She turned to look after the pilot. "Has the man gone mad?"
Mrs. Borgage, peering ahead to learn the source of the pilot's alarm, uttered a sharp cry.
"What is it?" asked Mrs. Chaim irritatedly.
Mrs. Borgage clasped her arm with bony fingers. "Look."
VI
During the subsequent official investigation, Commonwealth Control Agent Everley Clark transcribed the following eye-witness account:
"I am Joe 234, Leg-leader of the Fifteenth Brigade, the Fanatics, in the service of the indomitable Shell Strand Tumble.
"We are accustomed to the ruses of Topaz Tumble and the desperate subtleties of Star Throne; hence the ambush prepared by the giant warriors of Big Square Tumble took us not at all by surprise.
"Approaching by Primary Formation 17, we circled the flat space occupied by several flying contrivances, where we flushed out a patrol spy. We thrashed him with our lances, and he fled back toward his own forces.
"Continuing, we encountered a first line of defense consisting of two rather ineffectual warriors accoutred in garments of green cloth. These we beat, also, according to Convention 22, in force during the day. Uttering terrible cries, the two warriors retreated, luring us toward prepared positions inside the tumble itself. High on the roof the standard of Big Square Tumble rose, plain to see. No deception there, at least! Our strategic problem assumed a clear form; how best to beat down resistance and win to the roof.
"Frontal assault was decided upon; the signal to advance was given. We of the Fifteenth were first past the outer defense - a double panel of thick glass which we broke with rocks. Inside we met a spirited defense which momentarily threw us back.
"At this juncture occurred a diversion in the form of troops from the Rock River Tumble, which, as we now know, the warriors of the Big Square Tumble had rashly challenged for the same day. The Rock River warriors entered by a row of flimsy doors facing the mountain, and at this time the Big Square defenders violated Convention 22, which requires that the enemy be subdued by blows of the lance. Flagrantly they hurled glass cups and goblets, and by immemorial usage we were allowed to retaliate in kind.
"At the failure of this tactic, the defending warriors withdrew to an inner bastion, voicing their war-cries.
"The siege began in earnest; and now the Big Square warriors began to pay the price of their arrogance. Not only had they pitted themselves against Shell Strand and Rock River, but they likewise had challenged the redoubtable Rainbow Cleft and Sea Stone, conquerors of Rose Slope and Dark Fissure. The Sea Stone warriors, led by their Throw-away Legion, poured through a secret rear-entrance, while the Rainbow Cleft Special Vanguard occupied the Big Square main council hall.
"A terrible battle raged for several minutes in a room designed for the preparations of nourishments, and again the Big Square warriors broke code by throwing fluids, pastes, and powders - a remission which the alert Shell Strand warriors swiftly copied.
"I led the Fanatic Fifteenth outside, hoping to gain exterior access to the roof, and thereby win to the Big Square standard. The armies of Shell Strand, Sea Stone, Rock River and Rainbow" Cleft now completely surrounded Big Square Tumble, a magnificent sight which shall live in my memory till at last I lay down my lance.