better go to bed. One more such
idea, in progression with the last two you've had, would certainly give
you a compound fracture of the skull. 'Night, Cranes."

CHAPTER VII

DuQuesne's Voyage

Far from our solar system a cigar-shaped space-car slackened its
terrific acceleration to a point at which human beings could walk, and
two men got up, exercised vigorously to restore the circulation to their
numbed bodies, and went into the galley to prepare their meal--the first
since leaving the Earth some eight hours or more before.

Because of the long and arduous journey he had decided upon, DuQuesne
had had to abandon his custom of working alone, and had studied all the
available men with great care before selecting his companion and relief
pilot. He finally had chosen "Baby Doll" Loring--so called because of
his curly yellow hair, his pink and white complexion, his guileless blue
eyes, his slight form of rather less than medium height. But never did
outward attributes more belie the inner man! The yellow curls covered a
brain agile, keen, and hard; the girlish complexion neither paled nor
reddened under stress; the wide blue eyes had glanced along the barrels
of so many lethal weapons, that in various localities the noose yawned
for him; the slender body was built of rawhide and whalebone, and
responded instantly to the dictates of that ruthless brain. Under the
protection of Steel he flourished, and in return for that protection he
performed, quietly and with neatness and despatch, such odd jobs as were
in his line, with which he was commissioned.

When they were seated at an excellent breakfast of ham and eggs,
buttered toast, and strong, aromatic coffee, DuQuesne broke the long
silence.

"Do you want to know where we are?"

"I'd say we were a long way from home, by the way this elevator of yours
has been climbing all night."

"We are a good many million miles from the Earth, and we are getting
farther away at a rate that would have to be measured in millions of
miles per second." DuQuesne, watching the other narrowly as he made
this startling announcement and remembering the effect of a similar one
upon Perkins, saw with approval that the coffee-cup in midair did not
pause or waver in its course. Loring noted the bouquet of his beverage
and took an appreciative sip before he replied.

"You certainly can make coffee, Doctor; and good coffee is nine-tenths
of a good breakfast. As to where we are--that's