Time passed, slow, tense hours that dragged into a full day, and then another. The exhausted Planeteers and pirates took turns sleeping and watching. They could not know how fast they were traveling now — the instruments were not calibrated for such tremendous velocity — but knew their speed must be an appalling one.
They neared the orbit of Uranus, and by now Saturn presented a perceptible disk ahead. Thorn haggardly watched the little glowing sphere of the aura-chart.
"Cheerly's ship can't be far ahead of us now,” he estimated. “The highest speed the Gargol could attain would bring it about this far by now."
Lana stood with her gold head by his shoulder, watching as tensely as he.
"There, John!” she cried in a moment, pointing.
In the fore of the aura-chart a red speck had appeared, a ship a million miles ahead of the Venture.
"That's the Gargol— it must be!” Thorn cried. “Cut the stern tubes, Gunner!"
Gunner Welk, standing turn at the firing-keys, obeyed instantly. But the aura-chart showed they were still rushing after their quarry with such speed that they would flash past it. Thorn ordered the bow-tubes fired for the purpose of slowing them down.
As the ship rocked and quivered to the blasting brake-thrust of the tubes, Sual Av came up into the control-room, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Old Stilicho's anxious face was behind him.
"We'll come up to Cheerly soon,” Thorn rapped. “That means a fight. He'll never give up that radite willingly."