that permitted observation, and Arcot had stopped to observe. The first
one they had chosen had been a blue-white giant of enormous mass, nearly
one hundred and fifty times as heavy as our own sun, and all the
enormous surface was radiating power into space at a rate of nearly
thirty thousand horsepower per square inch! No planets circled it,
however, in its journey through space.

"I've been noticing the number of giants here. Look around."

The _Thought_ moved on, on to other suns. They must find one that was
inhabited.

They stopped at last near a great orange giant, and examined it. It had
indeed planets, and as Arcot watched, he saw in the telectroscope a line
of gigantic freighters rise from the world, and whisk off to nothingness
as they exceeded the speed of light! Instantly he started the _Thought_
searching in time fields for the freighters. He found them, and followed
them as they raced across the void. He knew he was visible to them, and
as he suspected, they soon stopped, slowing down and signaling to him.

"Morey--take the _Thought_. I'm going to visit them in the _Banderlog_
as I think we shall name the tender," called Arcot, stripping off the
headset, and leaving the control seat. The other fleet of ships was now
less than a hundred thousand miles away, clearly visible in the
telectroscope. They were still signaling, and Arcot had set an automatic
signaling device flashing an enormously powerful searchlight toward them
in a succession of dots and dashes, an obvious signal, though also,
obviously unintelligible to those others.

"Is it safe, Arcot?" asked Torlos anxiously. To approach those enormous
ships in the relatively tiny _Banderlog_ seemed unwise.

"Far safer than they'll believe. Remember, only the _Thought_ could
stand up against such weapons as even the _Banderlog_ carries, run as
they are by cosmic energy," replied Arcot, diving down toward the little
tender.

In a moment it was out through the lock, and sped away from them like a
bullet, reaching the distant stranger fleet in less than ten seconds.

"They are communicating by thought!" announced Zezdon Afthen presently.
"But I cannot understand them, for the impulses are too weak to be
intelligently received."

For nearly an hour the _Banderlog_ hung beside the fleet, then it turned
about, and raced once more to the _Thought_. Inside the lock, and a
moment later Arcot appeared again on the threshold of the door. He
looked immensely