Ken looked at him. His pale, drawn face was contorted; his hands clenched and unclenched. He repeated:
"Yes, kill it! I've a score to settle with these devils, anyway. I'll take him unawares. One blow'll do it, if it's placed right. Then, down the corridor and to the trap. I think I remember the way."
Ken thought it out, and shook his head.
"What's the matter?" Beddoes asked.
"We'd better not," he said "Not yet. And never, if we can help it."
"Why not?" Beddoes cried in great surprise.
"Don't you see? They haven't really harmed us. They're friendly. Yes, they've kept you prisoner and they'll keep me, too—but probably they don't think that's any terrible hardship for us. And they don't realize how much we want to get free."
"What will we do then?" Beddoes broke in impatiently.
"When I see the leader again I've got to get it over that we want to be released. It's a better risk than killing this guard, anyway. They're disposed to be friendly; but if you killed one there'd be the devil to pay." Ken paused, and his eyes closed. He said wearily:
"But, I'm dog tired; no sleep for twenty hours. Let me sleep an hour or two; my head'll be much clearer and we'll talk it over."