s mind.

Flashing; yet, to the man who struggled to comprehend them, they
passed laggingly in review: one picture followed another with
exasperating slowness....

Where was he? What had happened? He was hardly conscious of his own
identity....

There was a ship ... he held the controls ... they were flying low....
One hand reached fumblingly beneath the soft coverlet to search for a
triple star that should be upon his jacket. A triple star: the
insignia of a Master Pilot of the World!--and with the movement there
came clearly a realization of himself.

Chet Bullard, Master Pilot; he was Chet Bullard ... and a wall of
water was sweeping under him from the ocean to wipe out the great
Harkness Terminal buildings.... It was Harkness--Walt Harkness--from
whom he had snatched the controls.... To fly to the Dark Moon, of
course--

What nonsense was that?... No, it was true: the Dark Moon had raised
the devil with things on Earth.... How slowly the thoughts came! Why
couldn't he remember?...

Dark Moon!--and they were flying through space.... They had conquered
space; they were landing on the Dark Moon that was brilliantly alight.
Walt Harkness had set the ship down beautifully--

* * * * *

Then, crowding upon one another in breath-taking haste, came clear
recollection of past adventures:

They were upon the Dark Moon--and there was the girl, Diane. They must
save Diane. Harkness had gone for the ship. A savage, half-human shape
was raising a hairy arm to drive a spear toward Diane, and he, Chet,
was leaping before her. He felt again the lancet-pain of that
blade....

And now he was dying--yes, he remembered it now--dying in the night on
a great, sweeping surface of frozen lava.... It was only a moment
before that he had opened his eyes to see Harkness' strained face and
the agonized look of Diane as the two leaned above him.... But now he
felt stronger. He must see them again....

He opened his eyes for another look at his companions--and, instead of
black, star-pricked night on a distant globe, there was dazzling
sunlight. No desolate lava-flow, this; no thousand fires that flared
and smoked from their fumeroles in the dark. And, instead of Harkness
and the girl, Diane, leaning over him there was a nurse who laid one
cool hand upon his blond head and who spoke soothingly to him of
keeping quiet. He was to take it easy--he would understand later--and
everything was all right....