better begin
looking around for our heap of scrap metal," and, the girl at the
communicator plate and Stevens at their one small telescope, they began
to search the black, star-jeweled heavens for Cantrell's Comet.

"According to my figures, it ought to be about four hours right
ascension, and something like plus twenty degrees declination. My
figures aren't accurate, though, since I'm working purely from memory,
so we'd better cover everything from Aldebaran to the Pleiades."

"But the directions will change as we go along, won't they?"

"Not unless we pass it, because we're heading pretty nearly straight at
it, I think."

"I don't see anything interesting thereabouts except stars. Will it have
much tail?"

"Very little--it's close to aphelion, you know, and a comet doesn't have
much of a tail so far away from the sun. Hope it's got some of its tail
left, though, or we may miss it entirely."

Hours passed, during which the two observers peered intently into their
instruments, then Stevens left the telescope and went over to his slate.

"Looks bad, ace--we should have spotted it before this. Time to eat,
too. You'd better...."

"Oh, look here, quick!" Nadia interrupted. "Here's something! Yes, it
_is_ a comet, and quite close--it's got a little bit of a dim tail."

Stevens leaped to the communicator plate, and, blond head pressed close
to brown, the two wayfarers studied the faint image of the wanderer of
the void.

"That's it, I just _know_ it is!" Nadia declared. "Steve, as a computer,
you're a blinding flash and a deafening report!"

"Yeah--missed it only about half a million kilometers or so," he
replied, grinning, "and I'd fire a whole flock of I-P check stations
for being four thousand off. However, I could have done worse--I could
easily have forgotten all the data on it, instead of only half of it."
He applied a normal negative acceleration, and Nadia heaved a profound
sigh of relief as her weight returned to her and her body again became
manageable by the ordinary automatic and involuntary muscles.

"Guess I am a kind of a weight-fiend at that, Steve--this is much
better!" she exclaimed.

"Nobody denies that weight is more convenient at times; but you're a
spacehound just the same--you'll like it after a while," he prophesied.

Stevens took careful observations upon the celestial body, altered his
course sharply, then, after a measured time interval, again made careful
readings.

"That's it,