While he had been fighting the berserk Martian, the others had seized the opportunity to charge.
"Good girl! You saved our necks." He watched the running tribesmen. She was keeping the sand at their heels thoroughly stirred up with slugs from the Rangeley.
"Wonderful!" McLean breathed. "Lift your sights just a little—"
The Rangeley went into silence. Looking down, he saw that her shoulders were shaking with sobs.
"I know how you feel," he said, gently. "But you had to do it, to save our necks. Come on! Let's get back to our car while they're still running and we have the chance!" He swung into action.
Collapsing the sight into place, he swung the Rangeley and its tripod mounting over his shoulder. Catching the girl by one hand, he began to run.
To both, the car looked like heaven. It was that, and more. Here in this desert each had found in the other something that he had searched for all his life and had not found. There was heaven in this thought. McLean could hear the girl panting as she ran beside him, but she was also laughing. He began to laugh too, from pure happiness. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.
His laughter went into quick silence as he saw the tube of the needle ray gun projecting past the rear tire of the desert car. The bright, baleful eye of a Martian crouching there was visible behind the weapon.
"It's a trap!" he gasped. "They ran on purpose, knowing we would beat it to our car as soon as they were gone."