They were alone in space! It was an uncanny, a horribly helpless sensation. All about them was infinity, a vast void out of which peered at them the cold, unwinking stars. They were like swimmers in mid-ocean, without even the buoyant feel of the salt water to comfort them.
Nona's grip on Grant's arm was agonizing in its intensity.
"Scared?" Grant queried.
"A—a little," she admitted; "but don't bother about me. I'm all right."
She could be depended upon to keep up her end, Grant thought admiringly.
On and on they floated in the welter of space. And still there was no ray, nothing but unrelieved blackness. Pemberton was somewhat worried. Had the saving ray been quenched at the source? Were they too late? If so, they were doomed to a frightful obliterating fall to the surface of the planet, or worse still, they were destined to swing endlessly in space. Already the liner was far away, out of their grasp, even had they desired to return.
His breath was coming in quick gasps now. "Scared?" he once more asked the silent figure beside him.
"Frightfully—but carry on. We'll get there, wherever it is."
Her gay determination strengthened him wonderfully. On and on they floated.
Suddenly the dim, dark bulk of the girl caught the uncanny orange light. The next instant the creatoid fabric of his own suit caught it, too.