far out in the cold desert.
Four men, stumbling along wearily, occasionally estimated the distance
with wearied eyes and plodded onward.

After a long silence Murray remarked:

"It's just as well that the levitators gave out when they did. We were
drifting mighty slow--making practically no time at all. Probably we'd
have been spotted if we'd gone much further."

"Yeh?" Sime Hemingway conceded doubtfully. "But they may spot us
anyway. We have no passes, and none of us looks very pretty. As for
Tolto, we could hide a house as easy as him."

"But we must go on," said Tuman, the Martian. "Yonder lights seem too
bright, too numerous for an ordinary day. There's some kind of
celebration."

They trudged on for several hours more. Although weariness made their
feet leaden and pressed on their eyelids, they dared not halt. Each
one nursed some secret dread. Tolto thought of his princess, his child
goddess, and mentally fought battle with whomever stood between him
and her. Sime and Murray saw in those lights only war, swift and
horrible. Tuman imagined a city full of enemies, ruthless and
powerful.

Gradually, as they came closer, the lights began to go out one by one.
The city was going to bed.

* * * * *

An hour later they came to an illuminated post marking the end of a
street. A teletabloid was affixed to this post, buzzing, but its
stereo-screen blank. Murray found a coin, inserted it in the slot.

"Marriage of the Princess Sira and Scar Balta will be held immediately
after the financial congress," the machine intoned briskly, and in
time with its running comments it began to display pictures.

Sime, watching indifferently, caught his breath. It seemed to him that
he knew this girl, who appeared to be walking toward him up a stately
garden alley. She came steadily forward with a queenly, effortless
stride. And now it seemed as if she had seen him, for she turned and
looked straight into his eyes. It seemed that her expression changed
from laughing to pleading. And he recognized the girl with the
stiletto whom he had caught in his hotel room.

He said nothing, however. He could hardly explain the feeling of
sadness that came over him. He stood silent, while the others
commented excitedly over the overshadowing war news.

"It's all in the box," Tuman said gloomily. "Many times I've helped
cook up something like this. The boys in the central offices are
laughing, or swearing, a