I fear I give too much space to this pedantic description. The means to which an end is attained are always less important than the attainment itself. Certainly Dan and I, with our unscientific trend of thought, were only interested in this little globe that it might transport us safely to our destination. * * * * * The last day came. June 14, with its raw, thawing chill in the air; its twilight at noon which almost promised a sunrise. Dan and I had not slept for twenty-four hours, in the fever of our excitement. Nor had Freddie. He had not left the globe; just sat there in the lower compartment with the control buttons on his little table and a sheaf of father's instructions, which over and over, he was studying. Once, when I bade him sleep, he turned upon me so sharply that I retreated in haste. I brought him a cup of coffee later. "Here, Freddie." I held it out, a peace offering. He glanced up with his white face and tired eyes. "Oh, thanks, Peter--very much." An emotion swept me--between man and woman comes the human emotion most strongly tempestuous, undoubtedly; but there can be between a man and his friend an emotion wholly dissimilar, but of equally powerful bond. I felt it then as I laid my hand upon Freddie's shoulder. "Thanks," he repeated. "Sorry I snapped at you, Peter." Men are most inarticulate with each other when deeply stirred. I nodded. Three hours later we left the earth. There was a pathos to our leaving, mingled with the excitement of it. Any unusual adventure in life seems to bring into play the whole gamut of human emotions. There stood Dan's old father and mother! Not for them did Xenephrene hold any lure! They were giving their only son to what must have seemed a mad tempting of fate. They had said little. What passed between them and Dan, I never knew. Indeed, with the preoccupation of my own thoughts, I scarcely considered it. But they came to the little stone house to see us start. They stood in a far corner of the room, apart from the few government officials who were there to speed us. A brief, strangely dramatic scene, our leaving! We stood there at the small doorway to our tiny world. Attendants rolled back the roof of the room; the stars gleamed down upon us. The room was dim. With my pounding heart, it seemed full of vague, moving shadows--people I must hastily bid good-by now and leave--perhaps forever. Some one called out: "Eleven fifty-four! Better get inside, Smith." Freddie glanced at his watch. "Yes. Well--good-by. Good-by, everybody--wish us luck." His tone was queerly stilted. Abruptly men's hands were shaking mine; men were clapping me on the back. And then I found myself with Dan before his parents. Trembling old man and woman; a pity for them swept me. "Good-by, Peter." "Good-by," I said. Mrs. Cain kissed me. I added: "We'll be back soon. Good-by."