case the others could have come through also. The results of crashes of this kind were usually extreme one way or another. Either the passengers came through unhurt or they were mangled into stew meat. Mike opened his eyes.

All was quiet. Both Nicko and Doree lay motionless under their straps; still unconscious but with no visible injuries. But there was something else there in the center of the cabin floor; something Mike's dazed mind had difficulty in accepting.

A snake.

It was coiled lazily, its green and gold body the thickness of a man's arm. It had a flat, triangular head with deadliness written all over it and its eyes were upon the only moving thing in the room—Doree's rising and falling breast.

The chill that went through Mike almost paralyzed him. In hypnotized fascination he watched the sinuous uncoiling of the serpent; the gliding movement in Doree's direction.

Then the girl's eyes opened.

"Don't move!" Mike snapped. "Everything is all right. We got down. But you must stop breathing—hold your breath. Don't even move your eyes! Stare straight at the ceiling."

Doree obeyed, and thus did not see the snake. But her fright was apparent. Mike moved a slow hand toward the buckle on his chest. The serpent's head flicked around at the movement. Mike's cold hand gripped the buckle. He knew the snake's length was such that it could reach him in a single long strike. He could only hope the serpent would hesitate for a few seconds. The snake's head came around, then drew back.

At that moment a voice broke the silence. "You—beautiful serpent. Gorgeous green and gold clothes line. Over this way. Here I am." Nicko's voice and with it the little Martian unbuckled his strap and put his feet on the floor.

A hiss. The snake struck. Doree turned her eyes downward and screamed. The snake's great head slammed against Nicko's leg. The Martian laughed.

The snake ricocheted backward, dazed from the contact, two of its fangs broken off on Nicko's steel-hard scales. Nicko got up and walked over and put his heel on the serpent's head and crushed it. As the long body lashed and writhed, Nicko looked down at it with a kind of compassion. "Good-bye, little sister." Nicko looked over at Mike in assumed surprise. "Was my pretty cousin bothering you? She only wanted to say hello."

"All right," Mike barked. "You've had your little joke. Let's find out where we are."

"In a jungle I guess—from the nature of the welcoming committee."

Mike helped Doree from her couch. She had sustained no injuries other than a slightly sprained wrist. Mike got a rifle from the gun cabinet, gave another to Nicko and armed Doree with a small pistol which she tried to refuse.

Investigation showed the hull to be intact but two of the hatches had been torn off their hinges and were nowhere in sight.

"A beautiful glide," Nicko commented, looking back at the broad furrow that gave evidence of how the Space Queen had come in. It was a good thing for them.

"A lucky one," Mike replied. He scanned the thick tropical vegetation on every side.

"We could be down in the green jungles of Terra," Nicko said.

"We could at that. There is a river around here somewhere."

"How do you know?"

"I got a flash of a river as we glided in. Thought we were going to hit it. Then we went over. It ought to be in that direction. Let's go."

Doree, still stunned by the episode of the snake, was mute and pale as she followed close behind Mike. Nicko brought up the rear. The going was hard until Mike broke through into a comparatively open area. He pointed. "There it is."

A silent, ominous river, dark under the hot rays of a high sun. Around them, nothing moved; only the black waters of the river rushing onward toward some distant rendezvous with the sea. Doree shuddered.

Mike drew her into the circle of his arm. "Don't be afraid. This is a break—just what we wanted. All rivers go somewhere and this one saves us from fighting our way through the jungle an inch at a time."

"But we have no boat."

"We can make a boat." Nicko said. "The rubber mattresses and cushions from the ship. I'll bet no one on this planet has ever seen such a boat as we'll have."

Mike and Nicko struggled back and forth from the river bank to the ship, bringing what was needed. Doree, fearing to remain alone, trailed with them until she was exhausted, whereupon Mike began building the raft, leaving the rest of the trips to the indestructible Nicko. Mike bound the mattresses and cushions to a base of woven reeds. The reeds grew in abundance in a nearby swamp. Doree helped with the braiding and the work went swiftly.

Nicko made a half dozen more trips and returned from the last one with several scales knocked off his back. "Somebody threw a brick at me," he said.

Mike scanned the now-menacing jungle wall. "A brick?"

"That was what it felt like. It hurt like hell."

"You didn't see anybody?"

"I did not. I didn't wait long enough."

"We've got to get out of here."

"An observation of amazing erudition."

Mike lashed a long flat piece of driftwood to the raft as a steering oar, found two other such pieces to serve as unattached oars, and helped Nicko finish with loading the supplies. "All right," he said. "Let's go."

They cast loose and while Doree worked with the stern oar, Mike and Nicko paddled feverishly toward the middle of the river. With this objective achieved, Nicko took over the stern. Mike forced Doree to lie down. He put a pillow under her head, kissed her and sat beside her until her eyes closed. Then he went back and sat down beside Nicko.

The latter had not forgotten his terrifying grin. "We certainly get around, don't we?" he said cheerfully.

"I'm glad it makes you so happy."

"As a matter of fact I'm scared stiff. It is just that my sainted mother told me always to keep a brave front."

Mike looked at his assistant with sudden fondness. "Who was your mother, Nicko?"

Nicko shook his dragon's head sadly. "I can't seem to remember but I know I had one. And of course she was saintly."

"And your father?"

A distant sound intruded, touching Mike's ears lightly. His eyes were still upon Nicko as the latter said, "You've got me—but I have a feeling he was a gallant knight in armor who swept my beautiful mother off her fairy-like feet."

"No doubt," Mike smiled. The sound was louder now, but it still did not catch his attention. He was remembering that encounter in the polar forests of Mars; the day he found little Nicko crouching under a bush; how he'd come within an ace of putting a bullet into the hideous creature's brain. But some vagrant touch of compassion had stayed him. The little monster seemed so lost, so pathetic, so helpless. He'd taken Nicko back to camp, the Martian infant's parentage and ancestry a mystery Mike felt would never be solved.

What sort of hideous mating had occurred, he wondered, to produce this mongrel creature with the brain of a human and the body of a beast? Mike held forth his hand. "You were a vicious little devil," he said. "I'll wear that scar forever."

Nicko sighed gustily. "If you beat me unmercifully each fine morning for the rest of my miserable life, the punishment would be light for such a heinous deed."

Mike laughed and started to get to his feet. Halfway up, he paused, crouching there. Then his voice thundered. "Grab an oar! Pull for shore! Pull for God's sake!"

In an instant both of them were tearing the water in an effort to reach the nearest bank. As they worked, the current upon which they moved swept forward at an ever-increasing speed and the roar about them was like the crashing of skyscrapers under bombardment.

They came ashore a scant six feet above certain death. Fortunately the raft was light and they were able to gain a foothold and lift it from the snarling waters.

Then, gasping for breath,