"Probably iron pyrite. Probably worth less than twenty bucks. Pfah!" Steve snorted impatiently. "We'll throw it back. We haven't got time to lug museum pieces around the solar system, however scholarly we may be."
"Okay!" Myra pouted prettily.
Steve flicked the grappler indicator to "off." Nothing happened. The retarding rockets continued to blast vainly away. The gold colored meteor sped before them; their ship followed it inexorably.
"What's the matter?" asked Myra. "Change your mind?"
Steve stared at the fleeting meteor in amazement.
"I let go," he said. He indicated the silent grapple. "Look. It's dead."
"Don't tell me," purred Myra sarcastically, "that you're going to let a little hunk of rock kidnap us."
"Hell of a thing," muttered Steve. "Maybe I used too much power. Maybe the thing's charged with magnetism."
"And exerting an attraction strong enough to affect us—half a mile away?" Suddenly the ship lurched sideways. Myra drew herself erect, rubbing a painful nose. "Now I ask you—is that any way for a full grown meteor to act?"