Walters stepped forward and placed his hand on Strong's shoulder. "Don't let it get you down, Steve," he said. "I saw the zone search you set up for those two. No one could have done more."
"Maybe not, sir," said Strong, getting up, "but we didn't catch them."
"Not yet," frowned the commander grimly, "but we will! Well, there's nothing else to do here. That was the last patrol ship to report, so you might as well close up shop."
He turned to the cadets, who had been reassigned from the exposition as aides to Captain Strong in his search for Wallace and Simms. "You three come with us," said Walters. "I've got an idea and I want all of you to hear it."
Strong and the boys followed the commander out of the Academy communications center down to his luxuriously furnished office.
"Perhaps," said Walters, settling back in his chair and lighting an enormous pipe filled with red Venusian tobacco, "perhaps we have been hunting the fox with the wrong kind of dogs."
"Assuming that Wallace and Simms are the foxes in this case and the Solar Guard the hunting dogs, what would you suggest, sir?" asked Strong.
Walters puffed several times and eyed Strong. "I was going to suggest that you and the cadets become merchant spacemen for a while and take a look at some of the uglier places of the Solar Alliance. Go right into the foxes' den dressed as foxes!"
"Ummmmh," mused Strong. "It is an idea."
"Give it a try, anyway," urged Walters. "Take that old freighter we confiscated from the Titan smugglers, the Dog Star. Wander around for a few weeks and see what you can pick up. We have the advantage, since only a few of us know why we're looking for Wallace and Simms. It might make finding them a little easier."