"We'll fight, Sir," Hallihan said grimly. "Yahoo! Pour it to 'em, men! Give 'em a taste of I.P. hell!"
Above the noise of battle could be heard the rat-like screeching of the Squeakers. The B.D.s answered with their version of the Bronx cheer, and between them and the ground-shaking c-r-rump-c-r-rump of the atomic cannons, the uproar was enough to cause a nervous breakdown in the staunchest habitue of Times Square.
Night fell across the scene, and the battle raged on. The I.P. patrolmen now had a slight advantage, for the large bulk of the garrison was easily discernible in the dim light and they had the locations of the loopholes well-fixed in their minds. After each shot, they shifted positions, crawling over the ground so the Squeakers could not observe their movements. More than one unlucky fellow was found out, though, when a tall B.D. followed him, hurling challenges at the Squeakers in a loud, attention-drawing voice. This hindrance was temporarily done away with when midnight came and fully half of the B.D.s spouted blue smoke from their shaggy tops and dwindled away to silent, waxy seeds. More of them lost their enthusiasm for the battle as their brown fur slowly took on a yellowish hue, and they retired to various dark crannies to sulk away their last few living moments.
"I have an idea, Sir," Hallihan reported excitedly to Captain Staley. "That armored grav-car of yours could easily gain the wall of the garrison without getting knocked out of commission, couldn't it? Well, here's the plan. We use the shovel handles to whip together a ladder long enough to scale the wall. Then me and a couple of the men speed through to the garrison in the grav-car and prop the ladder against the wall before the Squeakers can nail us. Maybe one or two of us will live long enough to get over the wall and open the gates. Then before the Squeakers catch wise, the rest of you charge through the gates and finish 'em off. What do you think, Sir?"
"I must commend you for your valor, Sergeant," Staley said soberly. "But I don't believe your plan would work. Even assuming that one of you would get through to the gates--and you must admit there would be small chance of that--the Squeakers would still be in possession of the cannons, and our men would be easy targets at such close range. We would only bring about our own defeat that much sooner. However, you _have_ given me an idea, Sergeant. As you say, the grav-car _could_ gain the garrison wall, and a man could stand outside with reasonable safety if he was careful not to move in line with a loophole. What is the time, Sergeant?"