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caught her arm. "Please, at least you stay here. Understand menow if you never understood me before. Is there a window slot from whichthe ledge can be seen?"

  "Yes."

  "Then take me to it. Quickly!"

  * * * * *

  From the slot, Parker could see a section of the ledge. Two men werecrawling along it, advancing as cautiously as scouts trying to surprisean outpost. Parker had never seen either of them before but their facesconfirmed everything Mercedes had said--they were thugs, killers.Thrusting the pistol through the slot, the pilot took careful aim,pulled the trigger.

  The thunder of the gun rang through the room, echoed across the island.The bullet knocked rock chips into the face of the lead man. He recoiledas if he had been stung. The Tommy-gun in his hand spouted lead blindlyat the face of the cliff. The second man spun around--began shootingblindly.

  Parker moved away from the slot, listened to the rattle of the gunsoutside. He could distinguish the heavy thud of the Tommy-gun, thesharper crack of the carbine, but other weapons were also firing."They've got men with high-powered rifles posted in the tree downbelow."

  He glanced from the slot. The men had disappeared from the ledge. As hemoved back, a slug whined into the room. Mercedes cowered against thewall. Effra remained cool and poised. She was looking at Parker."Haven't I met you somewhere before?" She seemed completely unaware ofthe rifle bullet that had just screamed through the slot.

  "I--" Parker caught himself. There was agony in him. What good would itdo if she did, finally, remember who he was, who she was? What they hadonce been to each other? He had three old men, and two women, andhimself, with which to defend Montezuma's treasure against Johnny Retch,who had a small army of trained killers at his back.

  What chance did they have? Johnny Retch, even if given Montezuma'sgold, would not leave anyone alive except possibly Mercedes and Effra.

  "Do--do you know anything we can do to stop those men?" Parker said.

  Light seemed to come into Effra's eyes.

  "We might--we might use the Jezbro!"

  From the shelter of the trees, Johnny Retch operated like a general incharge of a force of Commandos engaged in attacking a miniatureGibralter. He was a very deliberate general. When the first shot from aslot in the cliff had driven the two men downward, he met them at thebottom of the ledge, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a sub-machinegun in his hands. "Okay, boys, go back on up."

  "There's a guy in there with a gun," one of the two protested. "He'sinside and we're outside. We're sittin' ducks for him."

  "We're covering the slots with rifles in the trees."

  "But--" Neither of the men wanted to go up that ledge again. They mightbe hardened killers but they did not like the idea of facing a gun theycould not see.

  "Go on back up, boys," Retch said. He lifted the muzzle of the gun heheld.

  "But--"

  "Either go back up or you'll stay down here a long time!"

  They went back up the ledge. Retch retired to the shelter of the treesand watched.

  No shots came until they reached the mouth of the tunnel leading intothe cliff. There, one of the men was killed. He fell backward from theledge, screaming as he turned over and over.

  The falling man broke his way through the top of a tree and sprawledthudding on the ground. He did not move after he hit. Retch did notwaste a second glance on him.

  Muffled but clearly audible, the blasting roar of the machine gun camefrom the tunnel.

  "He got in," Retch said. "Okay. Two more of you go up."

  Two more men went up the ledge.

  The entire population of the village had gathered to watch this stormingof the cliff. They regarded Retch with wonder and with awe. Some ofthese men had been pirates in their day, they had known how to loot atall ship, to kill its crew, to take over any wealth and any women ithappened to carry.

  Watching Retch, they discovered they had been amateurs in the fine artof attacking and killing. They had needed a man from the modern world toshow them how the job ought to be done. They were greatly impressed,Gotch most of all.

  Waving his sword, Gotch explained what he would do to that black priest,Rozeno, and to that cowardly Indian, Ulnar. Of all the listening group,only Peg-leg protested.

  "Yeah, you'll get them all right--if the Jezbro don't get you first!"Peg-leg said.

  Retch overheard the words. "Come here, Peg-leg, I want to talk to you."

  The old sailor stumped his way to where Retch stood.

  "Aye, Cap'n." He saluted. A look of surprise appeared on the oldsailor's face as the first heavy slug hit him. As the second, third, andfourth slugs hit him, the expression of surprise became one of agony. Hefell without a sound.

  * * * * *

  Retch stood looking down at him.

  The group was silent. Gotch hastily lowered his sword.

  "I don't want to hear any more superstitious talk," Retch said. "Thereare a lot of funny things here on this island but there is nothing to beafraid of--except _this_!" He patted the stock of the stumpy little gunhe held. "And there's enough stuff up there to make all of us rich;we'll have everything we can ever want." A glow crept into Retch's eyesas he spoke. They glowed with a yellow color and the yellow seemed tocome out of his eyes and spread over his face. He glanced down atPeg-leg.

  "Dump him into the sea," he said, walking away.

  The two men climbing the ledge reached the opening. They stopped thereand apparently held a conference with the man who was already inside.They went inside. A few minutes later, one appeared at the opening.

  "You can come on up now," he yelled, waving his gun. "All secure here."

  "Gotch!"

  "Yes, Cap'n."

  "Come on."

  Gotch went up the ledge with Retch. He went in shivering fear which hetried desperately to conceal.

  "What the hell are you scared of?" Retch snarled at him.

  "Nuthin', nuthin', Cap'n. Nuthin'."

  "You yellow-livered--" Retch stopped in midsentence. A sound was in theair, the cheeping of a sleepy bird. It was a tiny sound, fragile,distant, far-away, almost too weak to register on the ears. Hearing it,Retch jerked his eyes to the sky, seeking the source.

  Gotch threw himself flat on the ledge.

  "The Jezbro!" Gotch gasped. "God--God--"

  Looking at the sky, Retch caught a glimpse of something moving there. Itlooked like a bird, but it was like no bird he had ever seen in hislife. It was more like shadow--a darkness that had a darting elusivesilver color about it.

  Like a swooping hawk, it was diving toward the ground, aiming at thegroup clustered in the trees at the spot where the ledge began to riseup the face of the cliff. As it dived, the cheeping sound of a sleepingbird was becoming a flooding blast of wild harp notes.

  "The Jezbro!" Gotch wailed.

  The Jezbro dived at the men on the ground. They heard it, saw it; theyscattered through the trees like frightened chickens fleeing from ahawk.

  The Jezbro selected a victim. Retch caught a glimpse of long, crueltalons extended; saw the man grasped in them. The man screamed as thetalons touched him, tried to throw himself flat, tried to jerk away fromthem. Huge wings fluttered, beating the air. The man did not escape.The talons held. The beating wings lifted him.

  Wild notes flooded outward. There was triumph in the music now. Hugewings beat the air. The Jezbro climbed up above the trees. Held firmlyin the extended talons was a fully grown man.

  Watching, Johnny Retch felt panic tumble through him, panic that waslike a sudden touch of an ice cold hand. They had warned him about theJezbro. Old Peg-leg had tried to tell him. Gotch had trembled in fear.They had all insisted that there was _something_ here that did notbelong in the world as he knew it.

  He had laughed at them, he had called them superstitious fools. To him,there was nothing that was not of this world.

  Nor was there now, when the moment of wild panic had passed. As theJezbro swept upward throu
gh the air, rising along the face of the cliff,Retch jerked up the Tommy gun.

  Smoke and lead blasted from the muzzle. The Jezbro was unharmed. Takingcareful aim this time, Retch fired again, a furious blast of rattlingsound.

  The Jezbro swerved, the harp notes missed a beat.

  From the suddenly loosened talons a figure plummeted downward, screamedas it fell, stopped screaming as it crunched against the ground.

  The Jezbro circled in the air. It rose upward, swooped. Huge wingsflapped, a tail structure was extended. From the gaping, extended mouth,a scream arose. The Jezbro seemed to leap toward the summit of the sky.

  A flash of light as brilliant as the explosion of a miniature atom bombflared for a brief second. Thunder clapped, rolled around the horizon;echoed back. In the distance