What the fellow discovered evidently reassured him. He could be seen pulling on a heavy space-suit over his scrawny limbs and clasping a helmet into place. Then a long jointed arm of metal extended from his ship to grapple and hold the supposedly disabled Terrestrial. A moment later a lock-panel opened and the Martian emerged to jump lightly across the few feet of intervening space.
They heard him working at their own entrance panel, evidently with some sort of ray apparatus. Soon he had negotiated the lock and entered. Fastening the panel behind him, he stepped over to where Bull Mike lay. He did not even trouble to draw his automatic pistol from its holster as he bent down to examine the silent form.
Easily, effortlessly, Bull Mike shot out his big hand and yanked the Martian's feet out from under him.
Down crashed the Martian. His gloved hand fumbled with the butt of his pistol, but Sukune was there first and snatched the weapon away. Bull Mike sat up quickly, cradling the struggling enemy in his arms as though he were a baby.
"Got him!" snorted the big fellow. "Let's appoint me as a committee of one to break him in two across my knee."
"Wait a minute," said Sukune, flinging out a restraining hand. "I want to question him first."
"What about?" asked Bull Mike.
"Lots of things. About where he came from, for instance."
"That's an easy one. He came from Mars," said Bull Mike. "Hi, you, lie still or I'll do your legs in a braid!" This last to the prisoner.
"Not directly, he didn't come from Mars," said Neil. "He couldn't travel that far. He must have a base somewhere near. Perhaps he's a survivor from that bunch that was rubbed out on the Moon after they landed their big space-ship there last spring."