"No," he said, "this spot reminds me of a certain parkway in Amboria, a city on Mars, where I used to sit with the most beautiful girl in the Universe. Of course, this place can hardly compare in natural beauty with the one there." Then he stopped talking, and by his rapt expression I judged he was recalling pleasant memories. My presence had no effect on his concentration; he was, for the time being, in another world. After about fifteen minutes he became conscious of his environment. Opening and rubbing his eyes, he said, "I am very sorry I stopped talking so abruptly. I suddenly felt as though I were in Amboria again, and Xora was encouraging me to have patience, and not to despair, because she loved me. The realization that I am doomed to remain here on this Earth is bitter; however, I still have hope that Xora and her grandfather will someday rescue me. "That hope keeps me eternally watching the skies. With their power of thought reading, I am sure that they can locate me here; otherwise I would become insane." Taking a picture from his pocket of a beautiful young girl, with the inscription on the bottom "To Fred from your Xora," he handed it to me. Her beauty was angelic. The picture was an odd disc of some strange metal or composition, about six inches in diameter and a quarter inch thick. One face of it showed a moving picture of our lieutenant reclining under a tree with her, or promenading, the other side showed the loving facial expressions of the beautiful girl. By pressing the center spot of the disc, I heard her melodious voice giving him loving messages of encouragement and hope. It was a concentrated record. And took a long time to play it. Fred seemed to be in a state of deep enchantment. He said, "This picture reminds me constantly that what has happened to me was no dream. "I am sure I can go back to Amboria, if I can get possession of a plane; but I am known at all airfields, and no one would lend me a plane, or even let me be a passenger. I can't buy one, as my money is tied up. I don't know what to do. I know how to communicate with the Martians by radio, but I would rather wait until I am able to complete all arrangements. They cannot talk to me until I get within reach of their radio waves by airplane." To solve this problem, I suggested the following: "If you will give me the complete story of your experiences and grant me permission to publish it, I will lend you enough money to purchase an airplane and transmitter. There is just one condition; the story be worthwhile enough to interest a publisher; the royalties then may cover the loan." My offer gave him new hope. His face brightened. With youthful enthusiasm he grasped my hand, exclaiming, "Then you do believe that my story is true and that I am sane!" I answered, "Of course I do." This inspired him with greater confidence, and he said, "Now to continue my story." Then he handed me another typewritten chapter.