The rockets thundered in full power. Rawson waited. The heat of those exhaust gases was tremendous--made ten times so by their compression in the ooze. Heat! That was it! But would the rockets be powerful enough to change the composition of the quicksand? He felt the heat of the compressed gases through the floor of the hull, and their motion through the muck was accompanied by a loud glub--glub--glub--Sounds like the choking of a primeval monster. This sound gradually died out, and the heat became intense. Rawson removed his shirt and wiped the perspiration from his eyes. The sweat dripped down his arms and made little wet spots on the floor. He began shifting from foot to foot as the heat became uncomfortable on the soles of his feet. There was no way to see what was going on outside the space ship. All the ports were blocked by the muck. Presently he touched the dials. The indicator moved from "idle" to "take-off." He gunned the rockets. The ship lurched forward, groaned, and wallowed deeper into the ooze. It was no go. Rawson returned the power to idle and waited patiently. Perhaps it could still be done. Perhaps--but more likely not! Rawson was not ready to despair. He waited with the courage of his conviction that a way could be found through science. He waited for three hours, and then he touched the controls again. He set the dials to depress the nose, pulled the lever for the reverse. Then he punched the needle for full power. He geared in the traction. The space ship leaped backward with a jerk, found firm footing, and crawled with accelerated power. It surged swifter and swifter like an unleashed Neptune cyclone. And as he felt the motion of the vessel beneath his feet, Rawson looked up and saw the light stream through the muck that covered the port windows. He had broken free! By instinct he guided the vessel all alone to a new landing. He had to be navigator, engineer, pilot, and do the many tedious things that require many hands and brains to control a ship. * * * * * Several days later they were near Saturn and Rawson had just received congratulations on bringing in the serum in time to save thousands of lives. He sat at his desk, his skeleton frame hunched like an ostrich, when a young cyclone burst into his cabin. "Captain, sir," young Seymour cried, bounding forward. "I overheard--" Rawson snapped to his feet. "Mr. Seymour, Attention! Please leave and enter like a gentleman." Meekly the cabin boy walked out, closed the door. A rap sounded. "Come in." And as the lad entered Rawson said with a smile, "That's better." "Yes, sir. I came to report I overheard the crew talking." "Durk?" "Yes, sir. Underofficer Durk says you're voted the best darn space commander that ever flew the stars. And that he'll lick the denims off anybody that says different."