And then abruptly he stiffened. Through the powerful retinite lens a tiny dot focused his vision. A rocket ship! He adjusted the glass and studied her lines. Unquestionably she was Sirian and heading toward the moon on an oblique angle.
Standish ran for the Phantom. The air lock closed; he threw over the control lever, and the big ship headed with a lurch for the enemy.
In the pilot cuddy Dar-Ley watched the cosmoscope and intoned the distance measurements.
"Thirty thousand miles. Enemy still following same course."
"Twenty thousand. No change."
"Eight hundred."
A frown crossed Standish's face. The Sirian ship must have seen them by now. Alone and without convoy, it should have turned and fled.
Puzzled, the Earthman ordered a shot across the enemy's bows. The Sirian did not change her course. And then Dar-Ley gave a frantic cry.
"Behind us. Look!"