He constructed several new pieces of apparatus, which he considered might be useful in case of a possible encounter with Llysanorh'. He knew that Llysanorh' could not be as easily subdued or caught as Fernand. This tall Martian was an inventor himself and knew much about handling modern death-dealing weapons. It would be useless to try the Radioperforer as he probably would carry a Silonium armor, proof against all Radium emanations. One of the first things he had done was to lead wires from the steering apparatus up to the conning tower. On the floor of the tower he arranged contacts in such a manner that he could press them together with his feet. The control was similar to the foot pedals of an organ. He then practised for some days until he could steer the flyer wholly with his feet. Thus his hands were free to control any apparatus he would need for attack or defense. With his feet he could so control the machine as to avoid projectiles if necessary. As the days rolled by, however, Ralph became more and more disturbed. He now took observations hourly, his eyes glued to the indicator. With a sinking heart he saw that he was not gaining on the Martian. The latter had his machine well tuned up and was covering almost 90,000 miles an hour. At this rate Ralph could never catch up with Llysanorh'. It was maddening. The days became a long, drawn-out agony. Ralph had done everything in his power to accelerate the speed of his flyer and to strain the machinery further meant inviting certain death. Within eight days Llysanorh' would land on Mars--his course now plainly showed that he was headed for the planet. At best Ralph would be ten hours behind--time enough for the Martian to accomplish his purpose. And he, Ralph 124C 41+, the greatest inventor the world had ever produced, was powerless. Again he took observations, and again the results were the same. A weariness of the spirit swept over him. The dark waters of despair seemed to inundate his very soul. To have been physically exhausted would have been a relief. To know the blessedness of but an hour's sound sleep, to be free from this terrible tension-- He sank down upon a seat and buried his head in his hands, and as he sat, striving to quiet his worn and troubled mind there came to him an idea--nay, more than an idea, an inspiration, by which he would overcome the formidable difficulties that beset him. An idea, so simple that, having once formulated it, it seemed ridiculous not to have thought of it before. His soul-weariness fell from him like a discarded garment. He sprang to his feet, once more the scientist, the man of action, triumphant, dominant. His marvelous ingenuity saw the way out. His mind would again triumph over time and space. He would achieve the impossible, surmount the insurmountable. The battle was not lost--it had but begun!