"Seven hours—maybe six and a half," replied Hargedon. "We have to be careful."
"Very well. Stay outside when you arrive; I'll want to go right out in the tractor to get a closer look." She cut off.
"And that came through clearly enough!" remarked Hargedon as he swung the tractor around. "I've been awake for fourteen hours, driving off and on for ten of them; I'm about to drive for another six; and then I'm to stand by for more."
"Would you like me to do some of the driving?" asked Zaino.
"I guess you'll have to, whether I like it or not," was the rather lukewarm reply. "I'll keep on for awhile, though—until we're back in better light. You get at your radio job."
III
Zaino tried. Hour after hour he juggled from one band to another. Once he had Hargedon stop while he went out to attach a makeshift antenna which, he hoped, would change his output from broadcast to some sort of beam; after this he kept probing the sky with the "beam," first listening to the Albireo's broadcast in an effort to find projecting wisps of ionosphere and then, whenever he thought he had one, switching on his transmitter and driving his own message at it.
Not once did he complain about lack of equipment or remark how much better he could do once he was back at the ship.
Hargedon's silence began to carry an undercurrent of approval not usual in people who spent much time with Zaino. The technician made no further reference to the suggestion of switching drivers. They came in sight of the Albireo and doubled the chasm with Hargedon still at the wheel, Zaino still at his radio and both of them still uncertain whether any of the calls had gotten through.