*

Stowing themselves into the first likely niche that offered--a narrow
cubicle behind a flight of metal stairs--they waited, scarcely daring
to breathe for fear of being discovered.

Fifteen minutes passed, a half-hour, when suddenly sounded a rasping
of doors that told them the rocket was being sealed.

Then came a roar, as of some mighty blast beating down upon the frozen
earth, followed by a lifting, rushing sensation--and they were flung
violently to the flooring.

The pressure ceased in a moment, however, to be supplanted by a
buoyant, exhilarating sense of flight. It increased, and they judged
they must be traveling at great speed.

Glancing at the luminous dial of his watch, Professor Prescott saw
that it was a quarter to ten.

"Well, we're off!" he whispered. "And where, would you guess, are we
headed?"

"I wouldn't guess," Stoddard whispered back. "From the way we're
riding, it might be Mars! We must be making hundreds of miles an
hour."

"Or thousands! Who knows?"

They crouched there in their cramped niche, scarcely even whispering
now, as the tense minutes passed.

* * * * *

Suddenly the motion changed. They seemed to be dropping.

Another moment or two, and with a slight jar the rocket came to rest.

"Well, we're here, wherever it is," said Stoddard, stirring.

"Yes, undoubtedly," the professor agreed. "And the next move?"

"I think we'll let them make that."

They were not long in doing so. There came the sound of doors rasping
open, of footsteps echoing on metal stairs and corridors. Once a giant
Cossack passed within four feet of them. But at length, all was silent
within the rocket.

"Now, then, suppose we have a look around," said Stoddard, stepping
out.

"Right," agreed his companion, following. "I'll admit I am mildly
curious to know what corner of the earth we've been transported to."

They proceeded down the dim-lit corridor the way they had come,
descended a flight of stairs and headed along another corridor--to
pause suddenly and gasp with astonishment. For through the door whence
they had entered the rocket poured a flood of sunshine.

* * * * *

Stoddard stared at it a moment incredulously, and then glanced at his
watch.

"Ten o'clock, I make it!" he muttered. "Am I crazy, or what?"

"No, I hardly think so," smiled Professor Prescott, recovering from
his own surprise. "It is merely that we are in so