"That's because they're crowded at home," was Bull Mike's rebuttal. "Well, there's room enough on Earth for me just now. Plenty of girls to keep me company and wine to keep me healthy and excitement to keep me occupied."
They gladly left the Moon behind and continued their journey. They passed the time by eating part of the provisions they had brought along, by observing the heavens and by working practise problems in astronautics and space-maneuvers. At last they idled, a little more than half a million miles from Earth—twenty hours by direct space flight at top speed.
Neil was at the television. Suddenly he started violently and gestured to his comrades.
"Look here!" he cried. "A ship!"
"A patrol scout from the army," groaned Bull Mike. "Now we're in for it."
"That's no army craft!" declared Sukune when he saw the image. "Look at the lines of its hull, see that emblem on the side—it's an armed Martian scout!"
"You're right," said Neil. "It's just about on top of us, too. Let's shake on out of here."
Sukune jumped to the control board and began to strike a combination of keys. As quickly as possible he turned the nose of their ship back toward Earth. A glance through a port showed the Martian already within sight of the naked eye.
From the enemy ship came a sudden streak of flame. Desperately Sukune rattled the keys on the board. The Terrestrial craft writhed to one side, barely escaping the explosion of a roving bomb.