"I couldn't seem to get a line on this Silver Mask gang," he admitted hesitantly. "When O'Toole wired Jeff to return I couldn't figure out why. O'Toole and I have both known that Jeff was a tramp and a space pirate. I knew one thing that O'Toole didn't. The space authorities informed me a month ago that Jeff was dead. I was suspicious of O'Toole from the first. I caught a local rocket and boarded the moon liner in space. With some artificial tan, a space uniform and a lot of bluff I managed to play the part. It fooled everyone but Dauna. She knew almost from the first, but she kept my secret." Walter Ferrell backed into the lounge car. He sat down abruptly. "I know you've done something I never thought possible," he admitted. "And to prove my gratitude I'll apologize for everything I've ever said against Wade Blake. From now on you're half owner of the 'Hope to Horn'." Wade Blake grinned broadly. "Thank you sir," he said. "But I can't accept your offer. If Dauna marries me she's destined to get star dust in her eyes." Dauna looked at him worshipingly. "In fact she already has flakes of it there now," Wade added. "Space officials have asked me to track down the gang who worked with my brother Jeff. If Dauna will say the word, I'd like to spend our honeymoon on Luna, and then get started on the new job." Ferrell sighed deeply. "I think Dauna has given her answer already," he said softly. "As for me, I'll have to make a public statement, taking back every word about Wade Blake and his love for flowers and the violin." "That man Harror said we had a one way ticket to nowhere," Dauna said dreamily. "I wonder if we'll ever get there?" "If we do," Wade told her, "I'm sure with you there, it's going to be a wonderful place." * * * * * [Footnote A: "Hope to Horn" was the nickname lovingly applied by its loyal employees to the mono railroad developed and owned by Walter Ferrell. These mono, or single-tracked trains were brought into service in 2100. The Hope to Horn line itself consisted of a north- and south-bound rail of heavy plastic extending from Hope, Alaska to Cape Horn, South America. They were powered by standard sixteen engine diesels, capable of five hundred miles per hour. Built almost in the shape of long graceful fish, the trains were of highly colored plastic. They ran on a single rail of plastic-steel. In a few short hours men and women tired of business could follow the entire Pacific coast line from one end to the other, the entire trip consuming twenty-two running hours between Hope and Cape Horn.