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They consented, without very much argument, to let Wasil have the dangerous responsibility. At 2:30, two and a half hours after sunrise by the Martian reckoning, he signed a release acknowledging all circuits to be in proper order, and was locked behind the heavy doors, alone with a maze of complicated apparatus and cables that filled the large room from floor to ceiling. Now it was done!
Chance had thrown Wasil into a position where he could, without great danger of failure, carry out his plan. But at the same time things had so fallen that he, Wasil, must now die, regardless of the outcome! If he succeeded in broadcasting the proceedings of the convention, and if they had the effect of arousing the public against Wilcox, there would still be no escape for Wasil.
Harry at once joined Wasil. "Quick, Wasil! There is no time to be lost. Throw the saddle on to the pony, and make your way out of the camp, at once. Pitch all the other things into the tent, and close it. If you leave them here, it will seem strange.
There were three others besides Wasil: young Martians, keen, efficient, and, like most technies, loyal to the government that employed them. "Sure are careful to-day," Stimson grunted, scratching his snow-white hair, which was stiffly upstanding and showed a coral tinge from his scalp. "Must be mighty important to get this out right. Wilcox personally wrote the order.
He had schemed, suffered and murdered to put himself in reach of this glittering opportunity, and he would inevitably lose it unless he could find Sira. In the midst of his unhappy reflections he thought of Mellie. Sira knew well that Wasil adored her. He had for her the same dog-like devotion that Mellie had. She knew she could ask for his life and he would give it.
He's the right guy! Take it easy, brother!" But Wasil was able to sit up. "I sure fooled him!" he gasped. "Mixed up the circuits. Scar Balta sat right here while I broadcast the secret sessions, and he was watching a lot o' haywah in the control screen. "When Wilcox got word from outside he knew he was done. He thought Scar'd double-exed him, so came here in person and gave him the needle-ray."
"Mornin', Lennings," Wasil remarked to the face in the screen. "All set? Go ahead." The central office man held up a thick bundle of I. P. scrip, smiled pleasantly, saying: "Somebody in North or South Tarog, or in the surrounding territory, is going to be 100,000 I. P. dollars richer by to-morrow. How would you like to have 100,000 dollars? You all would like this reward.
It is believed that they had drugged her and hypnotized her, so that she has forgotten her duty to her lover and her country." The green light flashed, and Wasil broke the circuit. The central man lingered a moment, favoring Wasil with a long wink. "What a liar you're getting to be!" Wasil remarked coldly. But the central man, not offended, laughed. So they were offering a reward!
Wasil felt a chill of apprehension as the door opened and Scar Balta strode in. He was fully armed, dressed in the military uniform; but the former colonel was now wearing on his shoulder straps the concentric rings denoting a general's rank. Giant Against Giant
Wilcox, or Scar Balta, would come straight for this prison, neuro-pistol or needle-ray in hand! Even if he should fail, death would be his portion for the attempt. So thinking, Wasil sat down and carefully re-checked the circuits. The filler broadcast from central office must be sent to the twin cities of Tarog.
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