the control room, leaving Fuller hanging at rest in the
middle of the corridor.

"Hey, Morey!" he laughed. "Send me a skyhook! I'm caught!" Isolated as
he was in the middle of the corridor, he couldn't push on anything and
remained stranded.

"Go to sleep!" advised Morey. "It's the most comfortable bed you'll
find!"

Wade looked out of his room just then. "Well, if it isn't old
Weakmuscles Fuller! Weighs absolutely nothing and is still so weak he
can't push himself around."

"Come on, though, Morey--give me a hand--I got you off dead center."
Fuller flailed his hand helplessly.

"Use your brains, if you have any," said Morey, "and see what you can
do. Come on, Wade--we're going."

Since they were going to use the space control, they would remain in
free fall, and Fuller would remain helplessly suspended in mid-air.

The air of the ship suddenly seemed supercharged with energy as the
space around them became gray; then the stars were all before them. The
ship was moving forward again.

"Well, old pals," said Fuller, "at least I have traffic blocked fairly
well if I feel like it, so eventually you'd have to help me. However--"
He floundered clumsily as he removed one of his foam-rubber space-boots,
"--my brains tell me that action is equal and opposite to reaction!" And
he threw the boot with all possible velocity toward Morey!

The reaction of the motion brought him slowly but surely to a handhold
in the wall.

In the meantime, the flying boot caught Morey in the chest with a
pronounced _smack_! as he struggled vainly to avoid it. Handicapped by
the lack of friction, his arms were not quite powerful enough to move
his mass as quickly as his legs might have done, for his inertia was as
great as ever, so he didn't succeed in ducking.

"Round one!" called Arcot, laughing. "Won by Kid Fuller on a TKO! It
appears he has brains and knows how to use them!"

"You win," laughed Morey. "I concede the battle!"

Arcot had cut off the space-strain drive by the time Fuller reached the
control room, and the men set about making more observations. They took
additional photographs and turned on the drive again.

Time passed monotonously after they had examined a few stars. There was
little difference; each was but a scene of flaming matter. There was
little interest in this work, and, as Fuller remarked, this was supposed
to be a trip of exploration, not observation. They weren't astronomers;
they were on a vacation. W