The guards, at a motion from the giant, pushed the prisoners inside of the laboratory. Toplinsky shot his eyes around the room for a second, and then bounded forward with energetic fury across the floor to where ten men were working as if death was just ahead of them.

With a light slap of his big hand he turned a man upside down, and rolled him across the floor.

“That for your ignorance,” he shrilled. “Have not I, the great Herman Toplinsky, repeatedly told you nitrogen is an inert element—that it does not care to unite with other elements, and that we must be very careful at the beginning if we want to live when we get to the moon? We cannot wait until we can grow vegetables. We must have nitrogen free for the atmosphere, and we must also have it fixed so that we can charge the new atmosphere with electric currents and cause it to rain on the face of the moon. Yes, I, the great Toplinsky, tell you all these things, and yet you attend to this apparatus slothfully—you do not complete the electric arc; you do not hook three hydrogen atoms to one of nitrogen. Ah, ha! Do I not tell you again, and again, that as condensed ammonia we shoot it easily into the moon, and that when it releases it becomes again hydrogen and nitrogen?”

He kicked the prostrate form of the unfortunate worker, who was an American aviator, and turned amiably to Joan and Epworth, all traces of anger disappearing. Epworth and his sister looked at each other in a puzzled way. Was the giant crazy? The idea of shooting hydrogen and nitrogen at the moon in small packages indicated that he was.

“My friends, it is so.” Toplinsky smiled amiably. He was pleased with the impression he was making. “I, the great Toplinsky, do more than shoot packages of NH3 to the moon. I shoot everything I need, and soon—well, we shall see what we shall see. In the meantime——”

He bowed like a diplomat to Epworth. The young American caught the intent.

“Did I understand you to say that you objected so violently to my marrying this young maiden that you were ready to fight for her?”

Epworth shivered slightly. This was the biggest man he had ever seen—a man as strong as Samson. If he went into a fight with him it would be a very desperate affair. He glanced at Joan. She was looking at the giant with a loathing that she did not attempt to disguise, and she was his sister.

“Yes, I am ready to fight for my sister. She shall marry when she pleases, and the man she wants.”

Joan gave him a look of intense gratitude. She had great confidence in her brother’s fighting ability.

Toplinsky turned away as if the matter was of no more interest, and passed out of the house. As he walked from the big building he waved his hand in an explanatory way at two giant tubes buried in the ground.

“Beneath these two tubes,” he remarked casually, “I have a powerful power plant, and much complicated machinery. With the electric current generated by the ebb and flow of the Arctic Ocean I load the cylinders with heavy blocks of ice, and then give the projectiles a start into space. Lean heavily, my dear bantam, lean heavily on this point. The projectile I shoot leaves the earth at a speed of 6.77 miles per second; that speed carries it beyond the gravity clutch of the earth. When it gets a certain distance, in order to land it at a certain spot on the moon, its speed is accelerated by the explosion of a liquid rocket, fired by clock work. It is easy when you know how.”

“Mercy!” Joan ejaculated in admiration. “Why do you shoot so accurately? Why not scatter your stuff all over the moon?”

“It would be wasted,” he responded mildly. “I am working on the same plan one acts when he builds a dam in a flowing stream. Little by little I build outward, making the territory around the point I have selected inhabitable. In fact, in addition to creating vegetation on the moon, I am preparing a livable climate where I anticipate establishing my colony. I am doing this—first, by locating my site in a deep valley between two high ranges of mountains. Here my lake and vegetation are established in a spot where the sun shines one day out of the twenty-eight, and then not with great heat. The rest of the time the colony will be shaded from the sun by the high mountains, and yet the valley will have ample light. For heat during the long fourteen days of night I expect to erect a solar heater on the top of the mountains, and reflect the rays of the sun into Paradise Valley with big mirrors. But let us hasten to the conflict. I have not had a real good fight since I was a boy.”

Joan’s spirits dropped. The giant had been acting so indifferently that she had come to the conclusion that he had been bluffing about wanting to fight her brother, and that he was simply trying to annoy her with his talk about marrying her. Now she discovered that she was mistaken.

She had not seen Toplinsky give a command but as they approached the large hangar it seemed as if the entire population had assembled for a celebration. Against the walls of the hangar had been placed a table, a space had been roped off in front of the table, and a temporary arena made. Toplinsky mounted the table, and addressed the crowd.

“Do you see this lovely maiden?” he shrilled out in his small voice. “I think that she will make an excellent mate for your leader. But notwithstanding the fact that I want her there is a ruling among us that a man can keep his wife just as long as he is able to do so by main strength,—provided some other man wants her. Unfortunately for me this lady has a brother, and he is not willing to allow me to take her for wife. But——”

He paused and looked down thoughtfully.

“Really, I had forgotten something. I might buy the lady. Mr. Epworth, I will give you twenty thousand dollars for your permission as guardian to make this girl my wife.”

Epworth looked at the giant apprehensively, saw that he was soft, and shook his head decidedly.

“He seems uppish about it,” the giant grinned. “Very well, I shall kill him with these great bare hands! I have said. It shall be an open fight, and no favors.”

He threw off a long robe, and dropped to the ground. Epworth was surprised to see that he was clothed in tights, and that his massive chest swelled out like a steam engine expansion.

The colonists gave a wild cheer. It was plain that they liked a spectacular scrimmage.

“Bring in the girl and set her on the table,” Toplinsky cried, “and then put fighting clothes on this Lilliputian.”

Joan was seated on the table in great state while the guards with rare good humor took Epworth into the hangar and forced him to don tights. When the young American came back to the arena and confronted Toplinsky it was in reality a contest between a Lilliputian and a giant, although Epworth’s figure was beautifully shaped, symmetrical, smooth, and well muscled for his age.

When the American prisoners saw the difference in weight they groaned. Joan heard the groan and paled. If Epworth was defeated she would take the first possible chance to commit suicide. Life with the giant monster was nauseating, horrifying. She thought that she preferred death a hundred times. When Epworth passed in front of the table on which she was seated as if on a throne her heart went cold. The hairy giant would crush him with ease, and there would be no help for him. Those mighty hands would clench around the boy’s neck, and he would never utter a sound until choked to death.

Toplinsky meant to kill him. She did not have to be told. Intuitively she recognized the fact that beneath the giant’s sarcastic talk and extravagant boasting there was a great hatred of Epworth. True she had not seen the big scientist before this but he had kept her picture for a year; had thumb-marked it until it was black with grime and dirt. She groaned inwardly. This came of too much publicity. How she hated herself for letting that reporter get her picture in his magazine. Vanity—how she hated her vanity now that it was going to cost her the life of the only companion she could trust.

“Ah, he is a bantam, a mere child!” There was a smirk of satisfaction on Toplinsky’s face. “Yet he has the temerity to stand up in front of me—the great Toplinsky. Friends, comrades,” he made a grandiloquent flourish with his hand, “it is not often that I diverge but when I do it becomes great sport. And this young lady—now hear me. I want her badly but if this bantam wins he shall have her. What I have said I have said. The great Toplinsky never goes back on his word. So shall it be. Herloff, announce the approach.”

A bugle sounded, a drum beat musically, a guard jabbered in a strange language; then in broken English he turned to the American prisoners.

“When this fight is over,” he said coldly, “this young American will be dead.”

The calm statement, authoritatively made, caused Joan to scream.

“Now, young sir, be on your guard. This is a fight regardless of Marquis of Queensbury rules.”

Epworth was considerably astonished at the agile rapidity with which the giant sprang forward. His movements were graceful and as lithe as a panther. But the American was ready for him. He had been taught boxing and wrestling by skilled men. He waited like a post until Billy Sand, watching with feverish excitement, shouted:

“Snap into it, kid. For the love of Mike, snap into it! You’re fighting for your life!”

Still he waited until the giant was at his elbow; then he dodged with seeming lack of haste beneath Toplinsky’s extended arms, and planted a heavy jab into the man’s stomach. Then he turned his eyes on Billy, and nodded. He was pleased to see Billy still alive.

But Toplinsky’s stomach was cast iron and copper bottomed, and just a slight hesitation flickered across his face. Epworth paled slightly. He had to subdue this man by constant, steady, repeated body blows. To strike him on the head, was like butting into a brick wall with his fist, and the first blow indicated that the soft portions of Toplinsky’s body were as hard as his head.

Toplinsky whirled like an automaton, and rushed with clenched hands. If he landed his blow Epworth would be knocked cold. But it seemed as if Epworth did not see his danger.

“Hey, kid!” Billy howled. “Look out for that John L. rush.”

Billy’s voice was instantly checked by a guard who put his hand over his mouth and jabbed a gun into his side. Epworth, however, caught the feeling of sympathy, and waved his hand. It did him good to know that Billy was at hand to cheer him.

But he did not need the warning.

His footwork was smooth, and the giant pounded air. Again Epworth’s right found lodging in the giant’s abdomen, and he grunted a little, faintly, and advanced with fists on guard.

It was evident that he knew a little about boxing, and Epworth’s heart weakened. He had been counting on Toplinsky’s ignorance. If the man was only partially skilled his great weight, long reach, and massive power gave him the decided advantage. Yet the young American, though a little doubtful, had no intention of permitting fear to gain possession of him. Fear, he knew, would result in quick defeat.

He sprang forward like a catapult, dodged downward just as the giant met him with a terrific blow at his face, and got in two good blows before Toplinsky could regain his equilibrium. Then with deft footwork he slipped beneath the giant’s arms, battered him in the rear of his short ribs, and darted out of reach.

“Atta boy! At——”

But again Billy’s mouth was choked off.

Toplinsky did not speak. Very quietly he paused, and studied his opponent attentively. It was a menacing, cruel, determined gaze. Joan caught his facial expression and suppressed a cry of terror. She was beginning to think that Epworth was a great fighter for one so small and that he might whip this enormous beast but that if he did Toplinsky would break his promise, and be more terrifying in defeat than in victory. His cruel red face expressed this thought. She shuddered, and glanced helplessly at the colonists who were backing Toplinsky. They were grim visaged and fierce, and there was small promise of help in that mass of intent, unsympathetic faces.

Her thoughts were broken by Epworth. The American made a dash as if he intended to strike the giant in the face. Toplinsky covered and shot his hands up in front of his face. Instantly Epworth stopped his rush, and kicked his opponent with all the force of his leg and foot in the pit of the stomach. The giant doubled up with a groan, and instantly Epworth sent a mighty right hand blow to the back of his neck.

Toplinsky went down, his followers groaned, and the Americans sent up a shout of triumph.

It was short-lived. The giant in falling threw out his right and encircled Epworth’s neck. When he got to his feet with his hands around the American’s neck he gave a ferocious grin, and stuck his face, streaming with blood, against Epworth, at the same time jabbing the American with his left. Epworth retaliated with a short hand jab into the scientist’s stomach. Again the giant’s mighty left landed in the American’s face. If he could not soon break loose from the terrific embrace around the neck his face would be pounded to a jelly.

Bending his head he lifted his feet, permitting the giant to sustain his weight for a fraction of moment, and doubling up slammed both feet with all of his strength into Toplinsky’s abdomen. In order to sustain his footing the giant held him up, and then slammed his terrible left on his nose. The blood spurted out like a pump working but in regaining his equilibrium Toplinsky slightly relieved the strangle hold around the American’s neck. Taking the blow in his face, quick as thought Epworth struck back with all of his strength, landing beneath the giant’s chin. He had his mouth open at the time, and his tongue was caught between his teeth.

It was not a severe blow but it caused Toplinsky to bite his tongue. The pain was so severe that for a second he released his grip around Epworth’s neck. Epworth slid out of the clinch, and feeble-footed aside. He was sick and groggy from that awful left hand, and yet he realized that if the man had been hammering him with his right instead of his left the fight would have ended quickly.

Toplinsky, recognizing his advantage, rushed him, giving him no time to recover from the shock of the clinch. Unable to strike Epworth dodged. In this he was far superior to his enemy. Now he darted right and left, and remained out of reach of those mighty arms. Thus he began to regain his breath.

“Keep away from him, kid,” Billy howled. “Don’t try any more stunts. Give him shots in the stomach.”

Epworth kept away for a time but he couldn’t knock a man out running from him, and when he recovered somewhat he wheeled as if to run into the giant, who was chasing him around in a circle. Toplinsky stopped to throw up his guard, and envelop the American again with his great arms. He failed. Epworth shot in two punches, and got away, although he was sighing for a gong to sound to end a round.

But this was not a battle by rounds, and now a scheme entered his mind to tire out the giant. Still dizzy and with his eye closing he began to invite the giant to chase him. Toplinsky, foolishly thinking that he was weakening, made repeated rushes. Epworth avoided them as if weary and lacking energy.

The scientist’s admirers now sent up a whoop of triumph. It looked as if the American was whipped.

Toplinsky chased until he began to blow slightly. This was what Epworth was waiting for. Wheeling, while seeming to run away, he charged into Toplinsky’s face. To the observer it looked as if he was running into certain destruction. Billy was the first to groan; his fellow countrymen followed. The colonists cheered.

Toplinsky smiled, showing his horse teeth in pleasant good humor. He would catch this young American by the nape of the neck and crush the life out of him. First, however, he would cover his face and protect himself from the American’s blow.

It was a terrible mistake. Never before had Epworth driven a body blow with such terrific force. He put all of his strength and the full weight of his body, and landed in the giant’s stomach.

To the great astonishment of the observers Toplinsky staggered, and before he could regain his footing Epworth landed another under his chin, a fierce swipe. The last blow rolled the giant over. But he was down for only a second. In getting up he ran into some angry punches below the belt. They made him sick, weakened him, but he struck the American angrily in the face, peeling the skin from beneath Epworth’s eyes, and staggering him. Again the American got in his fast footwork, backed away, and returned with another rush into the giant’s stomach.

Strong as he was this rush doubled Toplinsky again, and before he could straighten up Epworth was hammering him from the left side below the belt. With a mighty effort the giant closed his eyes to the pain, and jabbed with all of his strength. Epworth caught the blow on his chest, and struck the ground on his back. Behind it there was enough power to knock down a horse.

With a shrill scream like a wild animal Toplinsky plunged at him. Epworth had just enough energy to lift his foot and kick the rusher in the stomach. The kick landed by accident in the exact spot where the American’s fist had been hammering. Toplinsky stopped short, turned white, and hunched over.

Hope swept again into Epworth’s heart, and with a bound he was on his feet. Now he danced around Toplinsky like a bull fighter. Flashing in and out, his swift blows were delivered into the unprotected part of the giant’s anatomy, finding soft places. Twice he struck at the giant’s face, closing both eyes. This however only served to give Toplinsky some relief from his abdomen pains, and he rushed.

But Epworth was now going strong, and was wary.

He foot-worked, dodged in and out, and kept his enemy breathing hard. Never for a second would he permit those giant hands to get to his body or face. In and out, like a shadow, quick as a wink, he pounded without getting anything in return, seeking the vulnerable spots.

With a sudden howl of anger Toplinsky dropped his guard, and sprang at him. If he could just get his hands on this fleet-footed foe. If——

But he spent his energy in the rush, and Epworth was not there. Instead he was delivering those aggravating blows at the solar plexus. Toplinsky paused, whirled half around, and snarled like a wild animal. It was an unfortunate thing for him to do. Epworth rushed him, sent a powerful blow into the lower regions and before the giant could straighten up, or attempt to defend himself he slammed him along the side of his left ear, and rolled him over. It was the first time that Toplinsky had been floored until he could not readily get to his feet.

Epworth saw his condition, and did not pause. Dropping on top of his foe’s body, he pounded him on both sides of his abdomen with terrible punches. He was getting a little weak himself, and realized that what he did must be done quickly.

“Take him off!” Toplinsky gasped in terror. “Help! Quick, com——”

Epworth closed his mouth with a solar plexus blow that put him out. Then he rose slowly and faced the arena. In front of him were over a thousand frowning colonists, hard featured, cruel men, with guns in their hands. They were eyeing him threateningly.

Joan saw the menacing glances, and cried out. She felt sure that these maddened men would not do the fair thing by the brother who had fought for her so gallantly—to the uttermost end of his strength. She also feared for herself.

These men who did not hesitate to shoot down airships, and steal, would shoot them later without mercy.