"You mean—it's the end?" she asked in a tiny voice. Her hands reached out and caught him by the shoulders abruptly. For a moment the outer mask of her face had slipped and her frightened soul stared through. When Lonny started to draw back, she held on.
"Gosh, Lonny," she said hurriedly. "Maybe I'm a little fool to break down like this. I think—I think I may even be going to cry. But I've seen what you're really like these last few hours—under the stress of everything, I mean. You're really pretty decent and brave. You needn't deny that you've got courage, and a lot of other admirable qualities. Your only trouble has been in letting the awful lethargy of Uranus get hold of you. That's all that's wrong, and what you need is something to jar you loose from this planet. Then you'd be a great guy. I really mean it, Lonny."
Her eyes were shining like stars. She was on the verge of a complete breakdown. Yet Lonny Higgens was held as though in a spell, for her words had done something that had not happened in a long time, had broken through his apathy.
Now, moving swiftly, she pressed her lips against his own, and they stood in a long silent embrace. Lonny's head was whirling, and he stumbled back, his hand crashing against a rheostat. A thunderous surge of high voltage crackled suddenly, kniving along the glassite, and the motors from the lower decks sang a mounting, thunderous song.
At the same time, everything shifted. Something had dealt the mud-submarine a tremendous blow from above. They were sent careening against the hull and then to the floor, which began to tilt. Link Raeburn had been thrown to his hands and knees. Now his eyes goggled up at the instrument panel. Lonny Higgens sat sprawled out with the girl a tumbled heap in his arms.
"Good going, Lonny!" cried Raeburn incredulously. "We're sinking again. How did you manage to do it?"
Lonny blinked through a cascade of tumbling russet curls and looked up wonderingly.
"I suppose the electrolysis worked after all," he answered weakly. "Under the pressure, the high voltage must have produced liquid oxygen, and then ignited it. And if the propellers are working we ought to be able to wriggle out into the clear some way."
"That puts a different light on the entire matter," said Raeburn, getting to his feet and drawing a ray pistol from his pocket. "I told you I would do you in for good the next time I made a try. Get up, Lonny, and start saying your prayers."
"My goodness," gasped Baron Munchy, crawling up over the edge of the control chair and looking on with glittering, faceted eyes.