“Oh, chances. Like kisses, they are to be taken.”
They both laughed a little at this, and it lightened their spirits. The situation did not seem so hopeless after all.
“Then the Sphere is still unharmed,” mused Robert.
“Not only unharmed but not far from us right now. Look over there.”
Robert looked off to their right as indicated by Taggert. A familiar dark shape reared itself above the level of the desert, probably a quarter of a mile distant. He breathed a sigh of relief. Though useless to them just then it relieved him to know that the Martians had not wrecked it.
The still glare of the stars piercing the narrow Martian belt of clear atmosphere shone coldly upon them.
Robert wondered which of them was the good old Earth. Ah, to be safely back there again!—the professor, Taggert—and Zola. Would they all see each other again? Could he expect Zola to give up her father and other kin, her friends—everything she had learned to love in her own world? She had said she would go with him. Would her decision withstand the final parting from pleading friends and kinsmen, even if her father would let her go? Would she be happy on his Earth, if he succeeded in rescuing her from her present peril? Could he honestly urge her to leave with him?
These questions raced through his mind as his strength surged back to him. There was but one answer: if they could get away he would take her with him if he could possibly get her to go willingly. That he could make her happy he felt certain, for he would devote his entire life to doing so.
He became aware of Taggert’s prodding him vigorously in the ribs.
“‘Can’ the star-gazing, old dear. It’s time we were wriggling merrily on our way,” he whispered.