 What was the outlaw weapon loaded with?
"Tolled into their underground hideout by that water-runner we tried to capture. That was old Garmon Nash, his fellow patrolman aboard the Planet Patrol ship as he swung the deadly slimness of his rocket blast's barrel around to center on the fiery jets that betrayed the approaching outlaw flyers. Somehow Rolf found the strength to wrap his fingers around the control levers and snap on a quick burst from the landing rockets. The floors of the thirty-seven caves through which they had so carefully jetted were a splintered, creviced series of canyon-like wastes, and as he ascended the rarefied atmosphere of the higher levels would spell death. The young patrolman unzippered his jacket pocket and felt for the emergency concentrate bars that were standard equipment. Half of the oval bar he crushed between his teeth, and when the concentrated energy flooded into his muscles he set off around the irregular wall of the pit. And he loosened the expoder in its holster as he moved carefully forward. The outlaw headquarters might be close ahead, headquarters where renegade Frogs, Venusians from the southern sunken marshes of Mars, and Earthmen from dusty North Mars, concealed their precious hoard of water from the thirsty colonists of North Mars. Ten steps he took before an excited voice called out shrilly from the rocks ahead. Rolf's slitted gray eyes narrowed yet more and his hand dropped to the compact expoder machine-gun holstered at his hip. "But, Mark," the voice that was now unmistakably feminine argued, "he wears the uniform of a patrolman."
 a drum of poisoned needles
 a drum of fuselage  a drum of poisoned shrapnel  a drum of poisoned bullets  a drum of poisoned needles