But the other man disregarded it. "What's the idea?" he inquired.
Danny's reply came in short, breathless sentences. "Going up to find that ship. Ram it. No use of your getting smashed up, too. Good-by, Infant; you're a good old scout."
Danny's mind was all on what lay ahead; he was wildly eager to be off on the hunt. It took him an instant to comprehend the look from Morgan's steady, blue eyes.
"Listen!" the younger man was ordering. "You're not going to do that; I am! And not just that way, either."
"Did you see that cable and the electric discharges?" he demanded excitedly. "It's just as I thought: he accumulates a negative charge; he has to get rid of it—he's just like a thunder-cloud loaded with static—and the heat ray does it. I had it figured that way."
"Remember the little tube you saw before—that's why I asked about the wire. I knew he would have to ground it without its going through his body."
Danny O'Rourke was an intent listener now. When the Infant talked like this he was a person to be listened to with respect, even if all he said was not understood.
"Now," said the Infant with finality, "let's forget this idea of ramming him. You couldn't hit him anyway; even a cruiser couldn't do it. If it could you would have radioed for a squadron an hour ago—you know that."
The pilot nodded his acknowledgment. "But, my God, man," he exploded, "I've got to do something; I've got to try!"