"All x. I hate to do it, but we've been together too long to bust it up now," and Brandon turned toward his bench. Scarcely had he reached it when a series of dots and dashes roared from an amplifier. Both men leaped for the receiver which had so unexpectedly burst into sound, reaching it just as it relapsed into silence, and from the tape of the recorder they read the brief message. "...h four seven ganymede point oh four seve...." "That's Steve!" yelled Brandon. "Nobody else could build an ultra-sender! Direction?" "No need of calculating distance or direction. Ganymede is the third major satellite of Jupiter." "Sure. Of course, Quince--never thought of that. Dope enough--point oh four seven." As Stevens had told Nadia, the message was completely informing to those for whom it was intended, and soon Brandon's answer was flying toward the distant satellite. He then started to call the officers of the Interplanetary Corporation, but was restrained by his conservative friend. "It would be better to wait a while, Norman. In a few hours we will know what to tell them." At high acceleration the _Sirius_ drove toward the Jupiter-Earth-North plane, and Brandon calculated from his own bearings and from the current issue of the "Ephemeris" the time at which Stevens' reply should be received. Two minutes before that time he was pacing up and down in front of the ultra-receiver, and fifteen seconds after it he snapped: "Come on, Perce, get busy! Shake a leg!" "Oh, come, Norman; give him a few minutes' leeway, at least," said Westfall, with amused tolerance. "Even if your calculations are that accurate--which of course they are," he added hastily at a stormy glance from hot black eyes, "since we received that message direct, instead of through one of our relay stations, Stevens probably has been throwing it around for hours or perhaps days, looking for us, and the shock of hearing from us at last might well have put him out of control for a minute or two." The carrier wave hissed into the receiver, forestalling Brandon's fiery reply, followed closely by the code signals they had been expecting. As soon as the story had been told, and while Brandon was absorbed in the scientific addenda of Stevens, Westfall thoughtfully called up Newton, Nadia's father. "Nadia is alive, free, safe, well, and happy," he shot out without preliminary or greeting, as soon as the now lined features of the director showed upon the communicator screen, and the careworn countenance smoothed magically into the keen face of the fighting Newton of old, as Westfall recounted rapidly the tale of the castaways.