something. O'Toolepointed to Blake.
"I'll see that she gets clear of the cave," he said in a loud voice."The boss wants him to be in the car until it's started and on the waydown."
Slater hesitated, nodded and turned away. O'Toole winked and Blakegrinned back at him. The Irishman had done a swell job. This was onenight when his blarney had been a blessing.
When Jeff Blake went into the lounge car, he drew his electro gun. Thecar was full of frightened women and angry men. He was afraid they mightturn on him in the Silver Mask, and spoil his plans. Slater had followedhim to the door.
"Don't stick too long," the man cautioned him. "You'll be doing ahundred miles an hour before you hit the head end of the valley. Theboss is going to jump when he leaves the cave."
The boss? Then O'Toole really had done a good job. Automatically Blakelooked toward Walter Ferrell, and noticed that he was of the same buildand size as O'Toole. Slater couldn't see the occupants of the car, buthe guessed who Blake was staring at.
"Take good care of Ferrell," Slater said in a dry whisper. "He's worth alot of money to us."
Blake grinned.
"_Don't worry_," he said. "_I'll take good care of him._"
* * * * *
Mono 6 started to glide smoothly back out of the cave. Somewhere out ofsight behind the flyer, a huge door opened in the side of the mountainand screeched its way into the concealed slit above. The train gatheredspeed swiftly, and the moon suddenly appeared from nowhere. Blakewaited, made sure there were no guards remaining on board. Then he ranswiftly toward the group around Ferrell. He ripped the mask off as hemoved, and Dauna, her eyes glued to his face, gasped in happy surprise.
"Jeff," she ran toward him, "Oh! Jeff, I'm so glad."
He pressed his lips to hers quickly, turned away without a word andfaced Walter Ferrell. Ferrell's face was expressionless, frightened.
"_Jeff Blake_," he said. "How did you make it?"
"There isn't time to talk now," Blake answered quickly. "O'Toole and Iovercame Harror. We managed to get them to start Mono 6 out of the cave.O'Toole is in the cab now. In a few minutes we'll be free. Before theywake up to the trick we played on them we'll be five hundred milesaway."
Ferrell's face relaxed. Although Blake watched him closely, the manshowed no sign of alarm.
"Good work, boy." His hand gripped Blake's shoulder. "I don't know howyou did it, but there'll be a big reward for you when we reach SouthStation."
Blake sat down opposite him. His eyes never left Ferrell's face. Yet,Ferrell held himself remarkably in reserve.
"I did it more for Dauna than anyone else," Blake admitted slowly. "Wewouldn't have anything happen to her would we?"
Ferrell turned toward his daughter.
"I've been pretty hard on my girl," he said. "But if she hadn't got outsafely I'd have torn that place apart with my bare hands."
_He meant every word of it._ Blake's body tensed. The full shock of whatFerrell's words meant was sinking slowly into his brain. Suddenly heshot to his feet.
"I've been a fool," he said. "A damned, blind fool!"
"A fool?" There was no mistaking Walter Ferrell's bewilderment.
Blake was already at the car door.
"I'm going to take a long chance," he shouted back. "Ferrell, you crowdthe passengers into both halls at the ends of the car. Open the outerdoors. If the train goes into the lake, try to get as many out as youcan."
* * * * *
With the shouts of alarm still ringing in his ears, Blake went swiftlythrough the long empty cars toward the cab. The train was backingthrough the night now at a terrific speed, and the black forest flashedpast him as he went to his appointment with Holly O'Toole.
Blake reached the head car, tried the door and stepped back in alarm. Itwas locked. He looked overhead and found the tiny emergency entrance tothe catwalk above. Back inside, he dragged several chairs out quickly,climbed them and pushed upward. Luckily the door was open. Head andshoulders above the train, he stopped. The wind pushed him back,clutching at his breath. He climbed out on the catwalk slowly, crouchingto the smoothness of the plastic, and wriggled ahead.
The diesel room was below him now. Its top door opened easy. Helistened. All motors were purring smoothly. The hot smell of oil driftedup. Ahead, the cab was silent.
He pushed his feet down cautiously and dropped. His feet hit the oilyfloor and he fell flat. The door to the cab was open. He went toward it,saw lights over the dash and ran to the main control stick. It waslashed firmly in place with heavy chain.
The speed indicator was pointing to four hundred miles per hour. Swiftlyhe released the chain, and felt the control lever break loose, fallinginto neutral. Blake reached for the magnetic brake, and heard a footstepon the floor behind. He whirled swiftly. O'Toole was standing at theentrance of the diesel room, electro gun pointing at Blake's chest.
"You're a smart one," O'Toole said. He waved the gun meaningly. "I'mglad you cut the power. We'll coast from here to the lake."
Blake was silent.
"Thought Walter Ferrell was the chief of this outfit, did you?" O'Toolewas enjoying himself. "Well, I didn't have any idea of jumping thetrain. We'll coast within a mile of the cut, shoot the coupling freebetween the cab and the coaches, and set our brakes. Walter Ferrell andhis little party are going to taste cold water for the last time."
Blake said nothing. He started to walk deliberately toward the hulkingIrishman. O'Toole snarled.
"Back," he warned. "I've got to kill you anyhow. It might as well benow." Blake grinned.
"I can't understand why you ever included me in this set-up to beginwith," he said. "Things would have been easier if you hadn't sent forme."
"Listen Blake, when I sent for you, I figured you'd fit in here. Ididn't know you'd fall for all this kid brother heroic stuff."
* * * * *
"You evidently knew something of my history," Blake said coolly. "Whydid you play that sympathetic game?"
O'Toole seemed anxious to be understood.
"I knew you had been pirating every space craft between here and Mars,"he said. "I knew that you had a swell reputation and were clever ashell. I knew that if you'd see things my way, I could get Walter Ferrellin bankruptcy within a month, and cut you in as a partner."
"Why change your mind?" Blake asked. He sat down in the pilot's chairand crossed his legs comfortably. "All we have to do is cut thatcoupling loose, ride back to the cave and collect all the dough we needby sitting tight."
O'Toole chuckled.
"Do you take me for a fool? I can handle things my own way, with Ferrellout of the way. I don't need you." His face softened a bit, and the gundropped inches. "Besides, how do I know you won't turn yellow and givethe whole thing away?"
Blake saw his chance to hit at O'Toole's one weakness.
"Wade is out of the way," he said swiftly. "I can return to SouthStation and assume control of the line with Ferrell out of the picture.You'll get half of everything we make."
O'Toole was weakening. He glanced out of the cab, toward the wooded sideof the valley.
"You're just crooked enough to be on the level," he pocketed the electrogun. "In ten minutes we'll reach Loon Lake. Better get to thatcoupling."
Blake followed him back through the power car.
O'Toole turned once, and grinned wickedly.
"We'll have a devil of a time, you and I," he said. "Now, for a niceswimming party to Ferrell and his gang."
He hunched down over the coupling that separated the power units fromthe line of coaches. The simple coupling adjustment was under hisdoubled fist. Blake's eyes narrowed as the coupling started to comeloose under the Irishman's grip. He lifted his heavy boot, and silentlybrought it down on O'Toole's head.
The blow was executed coolly and without feeling. No quarter had beenasked, and there was no pity in Blake's eyes as Holly O'Toole fellforward, face down. He lay still, arms outstretched
over the slitbetween the cars. Blake pushed him forward, and saw the body dropquickly out of sight to the rail.
* * * * *
He turned toward the cab and with feverish haste jerked down all threemagnetic brake levers. Mono 6 shuddered through its entire length andseemed to settle backward against the screaming, protesting track. Theflyer halted slowly, skidding sickeningly. Then outside, with theshrieking brakes silenced, Jeff could