THEN THEIR FOOTSTEPS pounding toward him, Dorothy rounding a bend of the ship, white-faced and flying, Captain Lane on her heels, covering their retreat with his gun. As Mallory sprang to join them Lane flashed him a swift glance and tossed curt words of explanation.
“Proto-balls! Giant, filthy amoebae. Pure proteid matter. Aaah! Scorched that one! Damned needle-guns won’t stop ‘em, though. Just slows ‘em down. Only thing’ll kill ‘em is an acid-spray. We’ve got to get out of here!”
“But where, Daddy?”
“Got those bulgers, Mallory? Climb into ‘em. And hurry. Saw caves in the mountainside up there. They won’t enter caves. Need sunlight. Look out!”
Again that sharp, explosive hiss. Mallory leaped back, feeling the brief, furtive brush of something foreign across the toe of his boot. The at
