e, to one of
the brush bars of the alternator.

"Nearly ready, sir," he said. "We'd best--lock the storm bolts--to hold
her down--in case we have--to crowd on the power. We've got to
use--pretty near the full lift--to get the alternator up--to the proper
speed."

A chill ran down Bennie's spine. They were going to start the engine! In
a moment he would be within twenty feet of a blast of disintegration
products capable of lifting the whole machine into the air, and it was
to be started at his command, after he had worked and pottered for two
years with a thermic inductor the size of a thimble! He felt as he used
to feel before taking a high dive, or as he imagined a soldier feels
when about to go under fire for the first time. How would it turn out?
Was he taking too much responsibility, and was Atterbury counting on him
for the management of details? He felt singularly helpless as he
reentered the chart room to compose his message.

He turned on the electric lamp which hung over the desk, for in the
fast-gathering dusk the interior of the Ring was in almost total
darkness. How should his message read? It must be brief: it must tell
the story, and, above all, it must be compelling.

He was joined by the electrician.

"I think--we are all--ready now," stammered the latter. "What will you
send, sir?"

Bennie handed him a scrap of yellow paper, and Atterbury put on a pair
of dark amber glasses, to protect his eyes from the light of the spark.

"_Thornton, Naval Observatory, Washington:_

"Stranded fifty-four thirty-eight north, seventy-four eighteen
west. Have the Ring machine. Ask Burke come immediately. Life and
death matter.

"B. HOOKER."

Atterbury read the message and then gazed blankly at Hooker.

"I--don't--understand," he said.

"Never mind, send it. I'll explain later." Together they went into the
condenser room.

Atterbury mechanically pushed the brass balls in contact, shoved a
bundle of iron wires halfway through the core of a great coil, and
closed a switch. A humming sound filled the air, and a few seconds later
a glow of yellow light came in through the window. A cone of luminous
vapour was shooting downward through the centre of the Ring from the
tractor. At first it was soft and nebulous, but it increased rapidly in
brilliancy, and a dull roar, like that of a waterfall, added itself to
the hum of the alternating current in the wires. And now a third sound
came to