"All lookouts signal reports," the Prince flashed from the ship.
"Found Envers' body and brought his diary," Bill flashed when it came his turn.
"Now preparing to depart," came from the Prince. "Getting apparatus aboard. Have the required cerium. Return signal will be fired soon."
Bill watched the dusty sky, over whose formerly dark-blue face the storm had drawn a yellowish haze. In a few minutes he saw a blue globe. Then another, and a third. They were far toward the southeast, drifting high and fast through the saffron haze. It seemed that they were searching out the route over which the globe that he had brought down must have come.
"Three globe-ships in sight," he signalled. "Approaching us."
Some of the other lookouts had evidently seen them, for he saw the flicker of other ray pistols across the plateau.
Without preamble, the red signal rocket was fired. Bill heard the report of it—sharp and thin in the rare atmosphere. He saw the livid scarlet flare.
He got to his feet, shouldered the heavy rocket tube, and ran stumbling back to the Red Rover. He saw other men running; saw men struggling to get the mining machinery back on the ship.
Looking back, he saw the three blue globes swimming swiftly nearer. Then he saw others, a full score of them. They were far off, tiny circles of blue in the saffron sky. They seemed to be rapidly flying toward the Red Rover.
He looked expectantly northward, toward the end of the plateau to which Paula had gone. He saw nothing of her. She was not returning in answer to the signal rocket.