The sturdy engine purred on with scarcely a flutter, however, and soon they were behind the lines, in a region pitted with the smoldering fires of towns and cities.
It made them shudder, it presented such an appalling panorama of ruin. But at the same time, it strengthened their hope. For very few flares of orange gleamed now among the red. The main forces of the invader were at the front. That meant there should be a safe place to land somewhere.
An hour later, some miles beyond that weird glass citadel that had been their objective, they found a wide stretch of empty desert, and there Jim brought the little plane down to a faultless landing, just as dawn was lightening the east.
Stepping out, he drew a deep breath of relief. For had he crashed, or smashed that fragile tube, all would have been in vain.
“Well, here we are!” he exclaimed, grimly cheerful, as Professor Wentworth stepped out after him. “Now let’s—”
Then he broke off, horrified, as he saw another figure follow the professor from the cabin.
“Joan!” he gasped.
“Present!” she replied.
“But, my daughter!” the professor’s voice broke in. “My dear child!” A sob shook him. “Why, why, this is—”