We had them adjusted in a moment. Our Erentz motors were pumping.
I gripped her. "Put out your helmet-light."
She extinguished it. I handed her my bullet projector.
"Hold it a moment. I'm going to take that belt of bombs."
The trap-door was all but broken under the ramming blows of the men on the ladder. I leaped over the body of the duty-man, seized the belt of bombs and strapped it about my waist.
Anita stood with me.
"Give me the projector."
She handed it to me. The trap-door burst upward! A man's head and shoulders appeared. I fired a bullet into him—the little leaden pellet singing down through the yellow powder-flash that spat from the projector's muzzle.
