some of Nature's sweet restorer?"

CHAPTER IV

The Zone of Force Is Tested

Seaton strode into the control room with a small oblong box in his hand.
Crane was seated at the desk, poring over an abstruse mathematical
treatise in _Science_. Margaret was working upon a bit of embroidery.
Dorothy, seated upon a cushion on the floor with one foot tucked under
her, was reading, her hand straying from time to time to a box of
chocolates conveniently near.

"Well, this is a peaceful, home-like scene--too bad to bust it up. Just
finished sealing off and flashing out this case, Mart. Going to see if
she'll read. Want to take a look?"

He placed the compass upon the plane table, so that its final bearing
could be read upon the master circles controlled by the gyroscopes; then
simultaneously started his stop-watch and pressed the button which
caused a minute couple to be applied to the needle. Instantly the needle
began to revolve, and for many minutes there was no apparent change in
its motion in either the primary or secondary bearings.

"Do you suppose it is out of order, after all?" asked Crane,
regretfully.

"I don't think so," Seaton pondered. "You see, they weren't designed to
indicate such distances on such small objects as men, so I threw a
million ohms in series with the impulse. That cuts down the free
rotation to less than half an hour, and increases the sensitivity to the
limit. There, isn't she trying to quit it?"

"Yes, it is settling down. It must be on him still." Finally the
ultra-sensitive needle came to rest. When it had done so, Seaton
calculated the distance, read the direction, and made a reading upon
Osnome.

"He's there, all right. Bearings agree, and distances check to within a
light-year, which is as close as we can hope to check on as small a mass
as a man. Well, that's that--nothing to do about it until after we get
there. One sure thing, Mart--we're not coming straight back home from
'X'."

"No, an investigation is indicated."

"Well, that puts me out of a job. What to do? Don't want to study, like
you. Can't crochet, like Peg. Darned if I'll sit cross-legged on a
pillow and eat candy, like that Titian blonde over there on the floor. I
know what--I'll build me a mechanical educator and teach Shiro to talk
English instead of that mess of language he indulges in. How'd that be,
Mart?"

"Don't do it," put in Dorothy, positively. "He's just too perfect the
way he is. Especially don