"There are only a few of them left," insisted Mortenson. "We can make it. It's now or never, Steckel."
Steckel eyed him thoughtfully for an instant and then spoke to Barton.
"We're going to rush the town, Bart!" he said. "Call the men together and let's go!"
"Okay, Chief," said the detective. "We got 'em on the run now!"
He yelled to the men. Two of them were sitting on the ground, fumbling with their apparatus. They were wounded. Riley was dead, his face twisted in a grotesque mask of death. As the remaining men stood up, the two wounded officers vanished as they transferred themselves back to their own world.
With Steckel and Mortenson in the lead, they started across the clearing. A hail of arrows caused them to crouch.
"Split!" yelled the chief. "Barton, you flank the devils and wipe them out!"
Barton ran off to the right to get in the rear of the creatures, who were hiding behind a dead beast. In a moment his machine gun rattled. The others saw several skinny-legged beings leap into the air. They made no sound as they fell back, dead. The attackers had been wiped out, leaving the way clear.
Mortenson, lying on the ground close to a dead dweller of the blue world, appraised the creature quickly. He was a hideous specimen of a strange race. His face was round and his protruding eyes hung limply in death. His mouth was loathsome and was half-open, revealing jagged teeth like those of a deep-sea fish. Around his neck hung a fibre cord to which were attached three silver dollars.
"So that's how the bandit got into the graces of the Fifth Dimension people," he reflected with a nod. "Gave 'em presents same as we do in Africa or Borneo to win respect from the natives."