d to confirm his report
that all was clear. Harkness gently raised the metal ball.

Beneath them a soft thunder echoed from the field of snow, and came
back faintly from icy peaks. The snow and ice fell softly away as they
rose.

A forward pressure upon the ball, and a louder roaring answered from
the stern. A needle quivered and swung over on a dial as their speed
increased. Beneath them was a blur of whirling white; ahead was an
upthrust mountain range upon which they were driving. And Harkness
thrilled with the sense of power that his fingers held as he gently
raised the ball and nosed the ship upward in meteor-flight.

The floor beneath them swung with their change of pace. Without it,
they would have been thrown against the wall at their backs. The
clouds that had been above them lay dead ahead; the ship was pointing
straight upward. It flashed silently into the banks of gray, through
them, and out into clear air above. And always the quivering needle
crept up to new marks of speed, while their altimeter marked off the
passing levels.

* * * * *

They were through the repelling area when Harkness relinquished the
controls to Chet. The metal ball hung unmoving; it would hold
automatically to the direction and speed that had been established.
The hand of the master-pilot found it quickly. They were in dangerous
territory now--a vast void under a ceiling of black, star-specked
space. No writhing, darting wraith-forms caught the rays of the
distant sun. Their way seemed clear.

Harkness' eyes were straining ahead, searching for serpent forms, when
the small cone beside him hummed a warning that they were not alone.
Another ship in this zone of danger?--it seemed incredible. But more
incredible was the scream that rang shrilly from the cone. "Help! Oh,
help me!" a feminine voice implored.

Harkness sprang for the instrument where the voice was calling. "We
aren't the only fools up here," he exclaimed; "and that's a woman's
voice, too!" He pressed a button, and a needle swung instantly to
point the direction whence the radio waves were coming.

"Hard a-port!" he ordered. "Ten degrees, and hold her level. No--two
points down."

But Chet's steady hand had anticipated the order. He had seen the
direction-finder, and he swung the metal ball with a single motion
that swept them in a curve that seemed crushing them to the floor.

The ship levelled off; the ball was thrust forward, an