Larry handed his captain the chart he had brought with him, and the man glanced at it with shrewd, faded blue eyes. He was a hard-case old-timer, leathery of skin, short coupled, and tough as oak. But he knew his business, and handed the sheet back directly. "Fair enough," he gruffed. "That gives us room enough to turn around in." "I guess we're agreed, then," Thaddeus Carlyle said curtly, extending a broad palm to Haggard. "Good luck." They shook hands, and once more the glass ports were rolled back in place, the locks opened, and the ships drew apart. "The damned liar," Carlyle said darkly, watching the _Martian_ arch itself high above them and surge away. "We'll have trouble with him before two watches are down on the log." IV It was not until just before he himself quitted the mother ship that Larry Wolfe learned of Ann's illness. Climbing above his pride, he had gone to her cabin to say good-bye. Doctor Van Doren, ship's surgeon, met him at the door. "You must not excite her," he said, in a low tone. "Say good-bye if you like, but--" "_Doctor!_" Larry seized his arm. "I--I hadn't heard Ann was sick. What is it?" "I don't know. Just a complete physical collapse. She's too tired to eat, even. Ever since last night." Larry was pushing past him into the cabin. He went down on his knees beside the girl's bed and his hand closed on her cold fingers. "Ann!" he choked. "They didn't tell me...." Ann wouldn't meet his eyes. "I asked them not to. I'm all right, Larry. Just tired." A cold blade stabbed at Larry's heart. "Why wouldn't you let me know?" he asked. Ann's eyes seemed fixed on a rivet in the ceiling. "Because I didn't want to worry you. And--I didn't want to fight with you again." "As if I'd so much as raise my voice, with you sick," Larry groaned. Then his eyes fastened on a ruby-colored heart lying on the girl's breast. "What's that?" he asked, half in alarm. "I've never seen it before; it looks--like it's alive, Ann!" The girl's fingers toyed with it. "It was a gift," she murmured absently. "Carlyle!" Larry could not restrain the angry syllables. "I don't like it, Ann! It's like a serpent's eye, or something. It looks so alive--" Ann's eyes at last met his, and they were cold as space. "We won't argue about it," she said wearily. Larry got up, striving against the hot resentment searing his heart. "You know I'm leaving now?" "Yes. Good luck, Larry." "Thanks!" Larry snorted, and strode from the room. * * * * * Larry's was the last scout to be dropped from the _Friar Bacon_. The mother ship was now piloted by Carlyle, who swung it back to the first salvage ship they had dropped.