Before the Martian could recover from his astonishment, Robert swung at his jaw with every ounce of his remaining strength. His fist landed with crushing force, driving the Martian’s suddenly inert body before it like that of a stuffed dummy. Several yards away it plowed through the sand and lay still. Weeping softly, Zola crept into his arms.
“Oh, my Ro-bert,” she faltered, “I thought—I should—never—see you again.”
As for Robert, he could but hold her hungrily to him.
“You will never—never—let them keep me—from you again?”
“Never, dearest!”
She sighed contentedly. Her arms crept round his neck. She raised her face to his. Her soft, tremulous lips met his tenderly. Then she caught sight of the reddening bandage upon his arm. Instantly all her mothering instinct was alive. She wriggled free from his embrace like a sinuous kitten.
“You have been wounded!”
Robert chuckled.
“But not nearly so badly as our friend, the late emperor,” he said.
“He is——?”