Crane said suddenly: "Look, Chief. See what I see? Two shadows out by the crater wall? Moving."
"I do—so help me! Space-suits, both of them. What—?"
The earthlight on Luna, thirteen times that of moonlight on the earth, showed up the men clearly. One was carrying a tripod. This he set up in a moment, swung a tube on its tip skyward—earthward. The tube began spouting vivid white flame in spurts.
"Code!" shouted Crane. "Continental. But in those five-letter combinations. They're signalling eastern Asia!"
"Come on," husked Bonwitt. "We're going to search Peterson's hangout." They scudded to the other dome.
Crane stood guard while Bonwitt searched with a flash. Outside, the signalling continued interminably. The engineer found nothing.
"They're starting back," Crane warned.
But they weren't heading here; those space-suited figures sped in the direction of the air-locked hangars of the small lunar ships.
"After them!" gritted Bonwitt. "This is the pay-off."