"You get all the bowls and pans and pots in here and fill 'em with water. No telling when those fellows decide to cut our water lines."
It took them half an hour to do that, and it wasn't until it was done that Manool felt satisfied. Then he began to break open one of the cartons of tooth-powder, explaining his plans as he did so, in the same whisper he had used all along.
"Those fellows out there got the whole ship to themselves," he said. "They got lots of food and lots of water and lots of air. They got fuel, too, and somebody who can lay an orbit for contact with Ceres. But I don't think they ever get there.
"There's a whole lot of fellows, too," said Manool, dubiously. "I think maybe the air they got won't last 'em."
"Their air!" ejaculated Tarrant. "Manool, you haven't monkeyed with the tanks, have you?"
"I just kill the water-weed, that's all."
"Are you nuts, little man?" asked Tarrant at last. "How in thunder are we going to breathe, when this air gets stale. You may smother those pirates, but we're all in the same boat here, you know."
Manool smacked his fist into his hand to emphasize his remark.
"We may be in same boat, but we three, we're in different part of this boat. Maybe them rats outside quit breathing, all right, but not us! Look here."
He seized them both by the shoulder and hauled them across the room. He broke open one of the corrugated boxes as they watched, and pulled out a gaily colored can. He opened the can and dumped the contents into a pan of water, while they looked on.