The chief signalman caught the name. "That louse!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Pretended we couldn't teach him anything, the time we set up his systems for him. He's raising hell on the Moon, Commander?"
Ross frowned. "That's just a guess, Jorgens," he reproved the signalman. "We only know this much for sure." He tapped the two sheets.
"Huh! Ten to one that blue-nosed devil's in it," grumbled Jorgens, turning back to the ray-type. "Want to answer, Chief?"
"Yes." Ross thought rapidly. He spoke in a low tone to Moore. "This might be a trap."
Moore blinked. "You mean, Artana sent this to decoy us in to Four and smash us?"
"Not Artana," corrected Ross. "Horta."
"Gosh, yes!" Moore fumbled his glasses off. "I hadn't thought of that! No reason why Horta couldn't send a message in Artana's name!"
"It's a possibility," Ross grinned sourly. He turned to Jorgens. "Send this: 'Greetings to Artana, Lord of the Peaks, from Ross. Coming in to Peak Four.' Repeat it, too, in case they aren't getting it any too clear." He wheeled to the helmsman, noted the speed was cut down now to six hundred miles, and nodded approval. "Change course for Peak Four."
Moore laid an urgent hand on his chief's arm as the helmsman obeyed. "Say," Bruce, this is risky!"
"Risky!" Ross laughed shortly. "Of course it's risky."