The professor strolled around the ship, examining its interior with considerable interest. Then he opened one of the diamond-shaped doors, and stepped out onto the bridge—instantly recognizing a section of Peiping with which he was familiar. He saw that the other two flying globes hovered near the one he was on and that several Lunites were descending each of the swaying ladders which hung down from the interplanetary vehicles. He was gazing idly down at the crowd which milled in the street below him, when he suddenly spied a familiar face looking curiously up at him. A smile of recognition crossed the face of the Chinaman in the crowd beneath, but the professor instantly made a gesture of caution and then indicated that he wanted his friend to wait below him. Hastily jerking pencil and notebook from his pocket, the professor quickly wrote a short note in Chinese characters. It was addressed to General Fu Yen, its contents as follows: “I am a prisoner on a lunar globe, and have given my word of honor that I will not try to escape while here. I have not, however, made any promise that I will not write notes to my friends. “My captors are now negotiating with your government for the purpose of finally signing the agreement which will make your people the subjects of a round-bodied monarch who calls himself P’an-ku, and rules a race which inhabits the moon. “Your people have fought and bled for freedom and a voice in their government. Are they going to renounce all this now? You, and you only, my friend, can save them. Act quickly if you would not be too late. Sincerely, Geo. Ederson.” Crumpling the note into a ball, the professor called softly to the man below, who instantly took off his large helmet and held it upside down. Into this wide, inverted bowl, the professor dropped the note. “For Fu Yen,” he called, softly. The Chinaman nodded, pocketed the note, replaced his hat on his head, and moved away, a part of the crowd. Then, with unexpected suddenness, vise-like fingers closed on the neck of the professor, and he was shaken like a rat. “Worm,” grated a voice in his ear. “Tell me what you tossed to that person in the crowd, or by the Great Lord Sun, you shall not live to say aught else.” XV. MOON TRAVEL Awakened with each of his arms pinned to the ground by an armored warrior and the sword of a third who knelt on his chest menacing his throat, Ted blinked dazedly and wondered if he was indeed awake, or only dreaming. Then he heard the voice of Maza utter a sharp command. The three warriors instantly released him and stood at attention as he rose unsteadily to his feet. Evidently these were her own soldiers who had mistaken him for an enemy. Their white skins and non-Mongoloid features showed that they were not of the race of P’an-ku.