"You know she was on lookout duty at the north end of the plateau. She hasn't come back."
"I've got to find her!"
"What is it to you? I thought you didn't care!" Bill was stern.
"I thought I didn't, except as a friend. But I was wrong. If she's gone, Bill—it will kill me!"
The Prince spun about with abrupt decision.
"Get everything aboard, and fit the ship to take off, as soon as possible," he ordered. "Dr. Trainor is in command. Give him any help he needs. Brand, test everything when the tube is replaced; keep the ship ready to fly." He turned swiftly to Trainor, who still worked deftly over the glittering little machine on the tripod. "Doc, you can operate that by yourself, as well as if I were here. Do your best—for mankind! I'm going to find your daughter."
Trainor nodded in silent assent, his fingers busy.
The Prince, sticking a ray pistol in his belt, set off at a desperate run toward the north end of the plateau. After a moment's hesitation, Bill staggered along behind him, still carrying the rocket torpedo strapped to his back.
It was only half a mile to the end of the plateau. In a few minutes the Prince was there. Bill staggered up just as he was reading a few scrawled words on a scrap of paper that he had found fastened to a boulder where Paula had been stationed.
"To the Prince of Space," it ran. "I can't go on. You must know that I love you—desperately. It was maddening to be with you, to know that you don't care. I know the story of your life, know that you can never care for me. The red dust is blowing now, and I am going down in the desert to die. Please don't look for me—it will do no good. Pardon me for writing this, but I wanted you to know—why I am going. Because I love you. Paula."