"You will consider yourselves our captives. Land at once as close as possible to the white spot you see at the base of the cliff. If you do not obey instructions, we will ram you immediately."
"Don't reply for a moment," Holden commanded, focusing his glasses in the direction indicated. As the powerful lenses brought out every detail of the scene below, he paled visibly.
"What's the matter?" demanded Erickson.
"Matter enough," was the amazing reply. "We've run into a den of some bandits. They must be the fiends who have been preying on the Earth-Mars shipping!"
The tremendous speed of the dive had brought them so close that all could see, without the aid of binoculars, the great skeletons of wrecked ships piled up at the base of the precipice.
"Tell those rats to go to hell," snapped Holden, "and get in touch with our own ships; use code and tell them to get here as quickly as possible, prepared for a fight. Get near enough to this pirate ship to open on it with the hexoxen guns. Can you keep them from ramming us, Edwards?"
"I think so, for a time, at least."
The enemy's craft was now only a few hundred yards away, and Holden scrutinized it closely for any sign that might give a clue to the original builders or present owners. Not over a hundred and fifty feet in length, with no visible openings, it looked like a slightly fattened steel needle. Its stern tubes were of the ordinary type; they glowed red against the silvery background, as the enemy swooped and circled, trying to get into position for a final, crushing blow.
"Every man in space suits," Holden ordered. "Good work, Linet," he cried, as he saw a sudden pock-mark appear in the pirate's side, where the devastating hexoxen bullet had struck.