CHAPTER X
_Back to the Ramapos_
It was dark when they reached the first swellings of the Ramapo Range.It was dangerous to try and make their way through tangled brush andmountain trails. All night they camped on the bare ground, sleepingfitfully, cramped cold, shivering. They dared not light a fire; itwould draw instant unwelcome attention.
When dawn came, they were on the move, glad to stretch their soddenlimbs. Unerringly Grim homed for the invisible cleft. Nothing stirredin the forests, even the birds seemed gone. The fog had lifted, thesun blazed forth in unclouded majesty. The damp on them dried quickly.
But Grim shook his fist at the unwitting orb.
"Damn that weather machine," he growled. "Breaking it seems to havemade matters worse. Even the regular midnight shower has stopped. I'dgive ten years of my life for the sight of a cloud."
"It will never rain again," Hilary said wearily. "It has forgottenhow."
The bright sunny sky seemed a brazen hell to the footsore Earthmen. Itmocked and jeered at them with sparkling waves of warmth.
Before them was an unbroken mass of underbrush. The next instant theywere on the brink of the chasm.
"They haven't found us yet," said Morgan, surveying the looped end ofthe rope ladder. They climbed swiftly down the swaying rungs. The rockslanted with them, turned sharply and fell sheer. Below there was aconfused murmur, the sound of movement.
A voice came floating up to them, sharp, commanding.
"Stop where you are, you two. You're covered."
"It's Morgan," Grim bellowed, not pausing an instant in his descent.
The next instant he dropped lightly to the floor of the gorge. Amoment later Hilary stepped beside him.
Men were crowding about Grim, clean-cut, determined-looking Earthmen.Nothing like the men he had encountered on his first trip on theexpress conveyor. The bottom of the gorge had all the appearance of awartime camp.
There were at least a hundred men encamped in the narrow cleft,crowded and crowding. A tall man thrust himself forward, spare,angular.
* * * * *
"Welcome, Captain Morgan," he cried. "We had given up all hopes ofseeing you again."
"Hello, Waters," said Grim. "Where's Lieutenant Pemberton?"
The other looked shamefaced.
"He's, gone," he muttered. "Took two hundred men with him."
Morgan's face was awful. "Disobeyed orders, did he? Where did he go?"
"To join in the attack on Great New York. Reports came in that thecountryside was up in arms, moving to attack the Mercutians. Icouldn't hold him. Said you were crazy, never coming back. He went,and two hundred of the boys went with him."
Grim said: "Know what happened?"
Waters shook his head. "Our radio communication went dead yesterdayafternoon."
"He's dead," said Grim softly. "The others too."
A groan went up as he described swiftly the holocaust of the daybefore. "That was why I warned you all to wait. We can't fight themyet. But I'm forgetting...." He turned to Hilary, who had remainedquietly aside. "This is Hilary Grendon, your Chief. He's the man whois responsible for the revolt. I told you about him. We all takeorders from him hereafter. If anyone can beat the Mercutians, here'syour man."
A babel of sound burst about him like a bomb. Men patted him on theback, shook his hand, crowded him until he was almost smothered. Itwas a rousing reception. The kind Hilary had dreamed of on his returnfrom his tremendous flight through space--and had not received.
For his act of revolt, unwitting as it was, had fired the imaginationsof the Earth people, who in their degradation and despair had come tobelieve the Mercutian overlords invulnerable. It had been the littlespark that touched off a far-reaching train of events. In the few daysthat had elapsed Hilary had become a legendary figure.
The sparkle came back to his eyes, his brain cleared of the fog ofhopelessness as he took command. Joan was lost--yes--but there was theEarth to be saved.
* * * * *
His orders crackled. The little gorge became a hive of activity. WithGrim and Waters as efficient assistants he soon whipped the tinycompany into ordered discipline. Absurdly few to fight the Mercutians,but Hilary counseled patience. They were a nucleus merely, he toldthem. When the time arrived to fight in the open, the peoples of theEarth would swell their ranks.
To provide against the day, he sent scouts out to filter through thesurrounding villages and towns; unarmed, to all seeming meekest of theEarthlings. They stirred the embers of revolt with muted whisperings;they found trustworthy leaders in each community to organize secretlyall able-bodied men; they returned with tidings of the outside world,with food and other necessities.
Sometimes they did not return. Then others went out to take theirplaces. It was the fortune of war. Day and night a sentinel was postedin a dugout directly under the overhanging lip of the gorge. It washis duty to warn of impending attack; above all, to rake the skyceaselessly with a crudely-contrived periscope for signs of gatheringclouds, be they no bigger than a handsbreadth.
But the heavens were a brass blaze by day and a glittering mask ofstars by night. Weather machine or none, in truth it seemed that ithad forgotten to rain.
* * * * *
Hilary was hard put to it to restrain the impatience of his men.Reports drifted in from the scouts. The premature revolt had beencrushed in blood and agony. New York was deserted except for theMercutians. The country round had been ruthlessly rayed; not only hadthe armed bands of Earthmen been ferreted out and destroyed, butpeaceful communities had been wantonly burned into the ground.
Strong reinforcements had been rushed to the Great New York territoryfrom more peaceful sectors of the world. There were three of theterrible diskoids hovering within a radius of one hundred miles, readyto loose their hideous destruction at the slightest sign ofdisaffection.
But this time the spirit of the Earthmen was not broken. Their gaitwas springier, their glance more forthright than heretofore. For everyone knew that Hilary Grendon, the prime mover, the defier of theMercutians, had escaped. The invaders sought him ceaselessly, offeringhuge rewards for knowledge of his whereabouts. But there were notraitors. Even these few who knew would suffer unimaginable torturesrather than reveal him to the enemy.
"Patience," Hilary counseled his little band. "I know it is hard; Ihave my own scores to even. But we could only bring disaster uponourselves and the cause of Earth's freedom by premature action. Whathave we? A handful of men, poorly armed. A few pistols; only, three ofwhich can use the dynol pellets; a little ammunition. The rest of youhave knives, axes, pitchforks. Poor enough weapons against theterrible rays of the Mercutians. We must wait."
Someone grumbled. "For what? Until the Mercutians finally trace ourhideout and ray us out of existence?"
"We must take that chance," Hilary told him quietly. "Let it but rain,and we move at once."
"It never will," someone averred with profound conviction.
* * * * *
It began to seem so as the days passed, and the sun blazed pitilesslyas ever. The brief night showers had ceased completely. That seemedthe only effect of the weather machine's destruction. Some of theweaker spirits among the men were for disbanding. They were afraid ofeventual discovery; anxious about their families, left to the tendermercies of the outlanders. Hilary argued, dissuaded, but to no effect.They were determined to go. If by the end of the week there was noaction, they said, they would leave. It was Wednesday then.
Thursday and Friday passed. No change. On Saturday a scout broughtbreathless tidings. One of the great diskoids had crashed to theground from its station fifty miles up in a smother of flame andflying fragments. No one knew what had happened; the Mercutians ofcourse threw a strict censorship about the affair.
But rumors flew on winged whisperings. Some war vessel from space hadattacked the Mercutian, brought it down. More
diskoids were rushed toNew York; there were five now menacing the territory.
Grim looked steadily at Hilary when the news was brought to them. Amomentary wild hope flared in his friend's eye that died out quickly.
"I know what you're going to say," said Hilary. "You think it is WatTyler and Joan, somehow escaped in the _Vagabond_."
The giant nodded slowly. "Why not?" he challenged.
"It's impossible," muttered the other. "Where could they have been allthis time? Surely they would have returned to this place. And youforget that Mercutian guard who was freed. No, my friend, they havebeen killed, the _Vagabond_ seized, and that was the end to that."
Morgan shook his head skeptically.
* * * * *
Saturday was cloudless. Sunday morning the malcontents were to leave,to dribble back quietly to their homes. They were sullen, defiant inthe face of the openly expressed scorn of the loyal men, butdetermined.
"No use getting ourselves killed for nothing," they muttered.
Double sentries were posted that night. A gloom hung over the camp.Hilary went to sleep heavy-hearted. This seemed the end of all hisvisions. Joan dead, Wat too; no hope of freeing the Earth from itsslavery. If only he had the _Vagabond_, he'd take off again for theuncharted reaches of spaces, find some little habitable asteroid, liveout the rest of his meaningless life there. With these gloomy thoughtshe fell at last into fitful slumber.
He was awakened, hours later by a sudden uproar. The camp was inconfusion. Sleepy voices tossed back and forth in inextricable babble.Hilary was on his feet in an instant, instinctively slipping hisautomatic into his blouse. Grim looked huge at his side, unperturbed.
"What's happened?" Hilary shouted to make himself heard.
"Don't know," grunted the other, "but we'll soon find out."
He pushed massively through the milling crowd of sleep-frightened menlike a ship shouldering the waves, Hilary in his wake. One of thesentinels appeared suddenly before them.
"You," spat Hilary, "why aren't you at your post?"
The man saluted automatically and gasped.
"The Mercutians have come."
"What do you mean?" Hilary demanded, as a groan went up.
* * * * *
"One of the weak-kneed men, sir," the sentry ejaculated, "wouldn'twait until morning to make his get-away. We found him climbing out.Said it would be dangerous in broad daylight. He was in a terriblefunk. We had no orders to stop anyone who wanted to leave, so we justjeered him, and let him go. My comrade leaned out to watch.
"As he hit the ground, he was bathed suddenly in light. The nextinstant the blackness of the night was split by a sizzling flame. Itcrisped the poor fellow to a cinder, and sheared the head of mycomrade clean off. I caught the body, pulled it back into the dugout,but it was too late.
"I knew what had happened, sir. Some damned Mercutian flying patrolhad spotted us with their search beam. I didn't wait for more, butscrambled out of the dugout as fast as I could. Up above I saw aone-man flier slanting down for me. It was a-sparkle, ready foranother ray. I came down the ladder in a hurry, I tell you."
The man was panting, white-faced. Someone cried: "It's all over;they'll smother us in now."
Hilary swung around. It would take very little to start a panic.
"Stop that," he said sharply. "Now is no time to play the coward." Heturned again to the sentinel.
"A one-man flier, you said?" he reflected aloud.
"Yes, sir," the other answered, "and I'll bet he's calling for helpright now."
"That's just what I intend putting a stop to," said Hilary grimly. Heshifted his gun to an easier drawing position, swung himself aloft onthe ladder. "Take over, Grim, until I come back," he shouted down."If I don't, send others up to get that Mercutian."
"Come down," Grim yelled after him, alarmed. "I'll go up; you're theleader here."
"That's why it's my job. So long."
The men stared up after the tiny ascending figure, lumps in theirthroats. They would die gladly for Hilary Grendon now; he was provinghimself. Grim fumed and waited. Hilary had disappeared above theangled bend.