The distance between the red and the violet rays was just slightly more than the diameter of the pygmy world. The sphere hung between them, one side of it a fraction of an inch from the red, the other as near the violet.
Opposite the elfin planet, the monster ceased to climb. It hung there in the violet ray, an inch from the surface of the little world.
And still it swiftly dwindled. It was no larger than a fly, and Larry could barely distinguish the form of the girl, helpless in the green tentacles.
Soon she and the monster became a mere greenish speck.... Suddenly they were gone.
For a little time he stood watching the point where they had vanished, watching the red and the violet rays that poured straight down upon the crystal disks, watching the tiny, green-blue planet spinning so steadily between the bright rays.
Abruptly, he recovered from his fascination of wonder.
"What did she say?" he muttered. "Something about the monsters carrying off people to sacrifice to a rusty machine that they worship as a god! It took her—for that!"
He clenched his fists; his lips became a straight line of determination.
"Then I guess we try a voyage in the little plane. A slim chance, maybe. But decidedly better than none!"