CHAPTER IVContact
IT was very still. There was always that odd humming background-noise, never quite loud enough to attract one’s attention but always audible if one stopped to listen. But there was no other noise of any sort. Lon worked grimly on Caryl.
Twice more he sent a fan-beam from his superson pistol through a complete circle. Anything living that the beam hit would be reduced to unconsciousness by the ultra-high-frequency sound-waves. There could be no creeping up on him under such circumstances.
At long last Caryl gasped again, panted, and shook her head dizzily. She struggled to sit up.
“What happened?”
“Gas,” said Lon grimly. “I held my breath and jumped, dragging you. You got a little of it. Your father and Burton keeled over. How do you feel?”
“I’m—all right,” panted Ca
