to meet the attack. He was outnumbered; he could never
win out. But the knowledge of his own helplessness was nothing beside
that other conviction that flooded him with sickening certainty--

A hoax!--that was what they had called Walt's story; Schwartzmann had
so named it, and now Schwartzmann had been the one to fool them; the
message was a fake--a bait to draw him out; and he, Chet, had taken
the bait. He had led Schwartzmann here; had delivered their ship into
his hands--

He landed one blow on the nearest face; he had one glimpse of a
clubbed weapon swinging above him--and the world went dark.

CHAPTER II

_Into Space_

A pulsing pain that stabbed through his head was Chet's first
conscious impression. Then, as objects came slowly into focus before
his eyes, he knew that above him a ray of light was striking
slantingly through the thick glass of a control-room lookout.

Other lookouts were black, the dead black of empty space. Through
them, sparkling points of fire showed here and there--suns, sending
their light across millions of years to strike at last on a speeding
ship. But, from the one port that caught the brighter light, came that
straight ray to illumine the room.

"Space," thought Chet vaguely. "That is the sunlight of space!"

He was trying to arrange his thoughts in some sensible sequence. His
head!--what had happened to his head?... And then he remembered. Again
he saw a clubbed weapon descending, while the face of Schwartzmann
stared at him through bulbous eyes....

And this control-room where he lay--he knew in an instant where he
was. It was his own ship that was roaring and trembling beneath
him--his and Walt Harkness'--it was flying through space! And, with
the sudden realization of what this meant, he struggled to arise. Only
then did he see the figure at the controls.

The man was leaning above an instrument board; he straightened to
stare from a rear port while he spoke to someone Chet could not see.

"There's more of 'em coming!" he said in a choked voice. "_Mein Gott!_
Neffer can we get away!"

* * * * *

He fumbled with shaking hands at instruments and controls; and now
Chet saw his chalk-white face and read plainly the terror that was
written there. But the cords that cut into his own wrists and ankles
reminded him that he was bound; he settled back upon the floor. Why
struggle? If this other pilot was having trouble let him get out of it
by