w. Miko, Moa, and a few of the _Planetara's_ crew were down
there somewhere.

* * * * *

Anita and I had a fairly definite plan. We were now in Potan's
confidence. With this interview at an end, I felt that our status
among the brigands would be established. We would be free to move
about the ship, join in its activities. It ought to be possible to
locate the signal-room, get friendly with the operator there.

Perhaps we would find a secret opportunity to flash a signal to Earth.
This ship, I was confident, would have the power for a long-range
signal, if not of too sustained a length. It was a desperate thing to
attempt but our whole procedure was desperate! And I felt--if Anita
perhaps could cajole the guard or the duty-man from the signal-room--I
might send a single flash or two that would reach the Earth. Just a
distress call, signed "Grantline." If I could do that and not get
caught.

Anita was engaging Potan in talking of his plans. The brigand leader
was boasting of his well-equipped ship, the daring of his men, and
questioning her about the size of the treasure. My thoughts were free
to roam.

A signal to Earth. And while we were making friends with these
brigands, the longest range electronic projector was being assembled.
Miko then could flash his signal and be damned to him! I would be on
the deck with that projector. Its operator, and I would turn it upon
Miko--one flash of it and he and his little band would be wiped out.

But there was our escape to be thought of. We could not remain very
long with these brigands. We could tell them that the Grantline camp
was on the Mare Imbrium. It would delay them for a time, but our lie
would soon be discovered. We must escape from them, get away and back
to Grantline. With Miko dead--a distress signal to Earth--and Potan in
ignorance of Grantline's location, the treasure would be safe until
help arrived from Earth.

It all fitted together so nicely! It seemed possible of success.

Our futile plans! Star-crossed always, doomed, fated always to be
upset by such unforeseen evil chances!

"By the infernal, little Anita, you look like a dove, but you're a
tigress! A comrade after my own heart--blood-thirsty as a
fire-worshipper!"

* * * * *

Her laugh rang out to mingle with his. "Oh no, Set Potan! I am
treasure-thirsty."

"We'll get the treasure, never fear, little Anita."

"With you to lead u