ot-wheel. But all his efforts only
caused the air-ship to dart irregularly from side to side, and, now and
then, to strike the rocks of the pit's mouth, to shoot up suddenly, or
to sink dangerously down toward the fire.

"He is losing control of it," whispered Branasko, "he does not know what
to do. See, he is trying to lighten the load, by kicking out the body."

That was true, and, as the machine made a sudden plunge toward the cliff
a few yards to the left of the refugees, the dead body, which the driver
had managed to move to the door with his feet, fell out and lodged upon
the edge of the cliff instead of falling into the fiery depths. The
machine bounded up a few yards and paused, now apparently under the
control of its driver. The man looked down hesitatingly at the corpse
for a moment and then lowered the machine to the sloping rock near where
the body lay. He alighted and cautiously crept down the steep incline
to the body. He raised it in his arms and was about to cast it from him
when his foot slipped, and with a cry of horror he fell with his burden
over the cliff's edge into the red abyss.

Johnston uttered an exclamation of horror, but Branasko was unmoved.
After a moment he rose, and carefully scanning the space overhead,
he crawled on hands and knees toward the machine. Johnston heard him
chuckling to himself and uttering spasmodic laughs, and he watched him
closely as he reached the machine. For several minutes he seemed to be
inspecting it critically, both inside and out; then he stood away from
it, a bold, black silhouette on a background of flame, and motioned the
American to come to him.

Johnston promptly, but not without many misgivings, obeyed his signal.
"What are you up to?" asked he, as the Alphian assisted him to rise from
his hands and knees.

Branasko touched the machine and smiled. His face was shining with
enthusiasm.

"The question of our returning to Alpha is settled," he said
sententiously.

"How?"

"We can go in this."

"Can you manage it?"

"Easily; that fellow must have been drunk; the machine is in good order,
I think."

"When do you propose to start?" and the American eyed the funeral-car
dubiously.

"The night is before us; we could not get a better time." As he spoke
he entered the car and laid his hand on the wheel. Johnston, obeying
his nod, followed, shuddering as he remarked the traces of blood on the
floor.

"All right!" Branasko turned the wheel slowly,