The Buccaneers of Venus Collection (Three novels in one volume!) by Otis Adelbert Kline Page B

up on its broad top. Then flattening his body on its surface, he peered cautiously within.
        The space inside the wall was illuminated by four torches, the sharpened butts of which had been driven in the ground. Some twenty-odd slaves, all big strapping fellows, were ranged in an irregular circle about two of their comrades who were engaged in primitive combat.
        Beneath one of the torches lay two other hairy men, stone dead—one with his throat torn out and the other with his head twisted and bent back in such a fashion as to indicate a broken neck.
        Suddenly the taller of the two combatants leaped forward and locked his arms about the head of the other, bearing him to the ground just as they struck the earth he whirled, twisting the tightly gripped head—there was a sickening snap, and the duel was ended.
        The big fellow arose, panting heavily from his exertions, and faced the others. "You have seen the fate of those three fools," he growled. "Are there any others, who would match their strength with Tholto for this slave woman?"
        There was no response. Evidently his comrades were convinced of Tholto's prowess.
        "Bring me the woman, Oro," continued the victor. "Many precious moments have I wasted in silencing these braggarts."
        A great, hairy man, larger even than Tholto and superbly muscled, went into a low door at his back, and emerged a moment later dragging Vernia by the wrist. He pushed her toward Tholto, who seized her roughly and drew her to his side.
        The slaves were startled by a clanking noise behind them, and upon looking around beheld a man clad from head to foot in brown armor on which many jewels glistened, his terrifying appearance enhanced by a spine-crested helmet in which two emerald eyes sparkled, and by the businesslike weapons that dangled from his belt.
        Straight for the startled Tholto he rushed, and there were none to block his path, for though no living marsh-man had ever seen an Albine, they had been described in detail to all through the familiar legends which held them to be a race of supermen.
        "Release the girl," said a clear, commanding voice.
        Tholto, though startled, was apparently unafraid. "She belongs to me," he replied. "I will not release her, nor lives there man or demon who can force me to do so."
        "Release the girl or take the consequences, slave! I would not harm you, for your actions are only what might be expected of one with your intelligence and training."
        For answer Tholto laughed. His mirth was suddenly cut short by the impact of a mailed fist with the point of his jaw. A look of surprise came to his face; his arms dropped, his knees sagged, and he sank limply to the ground.
        Vernia reeled, and would have fallen had not Grandon caught her in his arms. He raised his visor and, looking into the melting depths of twin pools of flame, saw the soul of a woman.
        "How I wished that you would come," she whispered, her arms about his neck, her upturned face so close that the fragrance of her breath intoxicated him, "wished without hope."
        For answer he bent low over the yielding, tremulous lips, but their moment of rapture was rudely broken into by a shout from one of the slaves. "The sabits! Run for your lives! The sabits come!"
        Grandon wheeled and beheld two soldier sabits rushing toward them. The slaves scattered, diving into the various doorways at the base of the conelike structure. He pushed the girl into one of these and, lowering his visor, tore the heavy spiked club from his belt.
        As the first soldier sabit opened its huge forceps to encircle Grandon's waist, he raised his spiked club and crashed it down with all his might between the two enormous eyes.
        The creature paused, its head drooped, and it began walking aimlessly in a circle. Not so its mate, however, which leaped forward and swept Grandon from his feet before he