by the first was only a trifle larger than the second. The
anchor settled firmly into place.

St. Simon released the clamps that held the eye-bolt to the hull of the
ship, and backed away again. As he did, a power cord unreeled, for the
eye-bolt was still connected to the vessel electrically.

Several meters away, St. Simon pushed another button. There was no
sound, but his practiced eye saw the eye of the anchor quiver. A small
explosive charge, set in the buried end of the anchor, had detonated,
expanding the far end of the bolt, wedging it firmly in the hole. At the
same time, a piston had been forced up a small shaft in the center of
the bolt, forcing a catalyst to mix with a fast-setting resin, and
extruding the mixture out through half a dozen holes in the side of the
bolt. When the stuff set, the anchor was locked securely to the sides of
the shaft and thus to the planetoid itself.

St. Simon waited for a few minutes to make sure the resin had set
completely. Then he clambered outside again and attached a heavy towing
cable to the eye of the anchor, which projected above the surface of the
asteroid. Back inside the ship again, he slowly applied power. The cable
straightened and pulled at the anchor as the _Nancy Bell_ tried to get
away from the asteroid.

"Jules, old bunion," he said as he watched the needle of the tension
gauge, "we have set her well."

"Yes, m'lud. So it would appear, m'lud."

St. Simon cut the power. "Very good, Jules. Now we shall see if the
beeper is functioning as it should." He flipped a switch that turned on
the finder pickup, then turned the selector to his own frequency band.

_Beep!_ said the radio importantly. _Beep!_

The explosion had also triggered on a small but powerful transmitter
built into the anchor. The tugs would be able to find the planetoid by
following the beeps.

"Ah, Jules! Success!"

"Yes, m'lud. Success. For the tenth time in a row, this trip. And how
many trips does this make?"

"Ah, but who's counting? Think of the money!"

"And the monotony, m'lud. To say nothing of molasses, muchness, and
other things that begin with an M."

"Quite so, Jules; quite so. Well, let's detach the towing cable and be
on our way."

"Whither, m'lud, Vesta?"

"I rather thought Pallas this time, old thimble."

"Still, m'lud, Vesta--"

"Pallas, Jules."

"Vesta?"

"Hum, hi, ho," said Captain St. Simon thoughtfully. "Pallas?"

The argument continued while the tow ca