By short and infrequent applications of power to the dirigible projectors of the life-boat, Stevens slowly shifted the position of the fragment which bore their craft until it was well clear of the other components of the mass of wreckage. He then exerted a very small retarding force, so that their bit would lag behind the procession, as though it had accidently been separated. But the crew of the captor was alert, and no sooner did a clear space show itself between them and the mass than a ray picked them up and herded them back into place. Stevens then nudged other pieces so that they fell out, only to see them also rounded up. Hour after hour he kept trying--doing nothing sufficiently energetic to create any suspicion, but attempting everything he could think of that offered any chance of escape from the clutches of their captors. Immovable at the plate, his hands upon the controls, he performed every insidious maneuver his agile brain could devise, but he could not succeed in separating their vehicle from its fellows. Finally, after a last attempt, which was foiled as easily as were its predecessors, he shut off his controls and turned to his companion with a grin. "I didn't think I could get away with it--they're keen, that gang--but I had to keep at it as long as it would have done us any good." "Wouldn't it do us any good now?" "Not a bit--we're going so fast that we couldn't stop--we're out of even radio range of our closest power-plant. We'll have to put off any more attempts until they slow us down. They're fairly close to at least one of the moons of Jupiter, we'll have our best chance--so good, in fact, that I really think we can make it." "But what good would that do us, if we couldn't get back?" Dire foreboding showed in her glorious eyes. "Lots of things not tried yet, girl, and we'll try them all. First, we get away. Second, we try to get in touch with Norman Brandon...." "How? No known radio will carry half that far." "No, but I think that a radio as yet unknown may be able to--and there is a bare possibility that I'll be able to communicate." "Oh wonderful--that lifts a frightful load off my mind," she breathed. "But just a minute--I said I'd come clean with you, and I will. The odds are all against us, no matter what we do. If that unknown radio won't work--and it probably won't--there are several other things we can try, but they're all pretty slim chances. Even if we get away, it'll probably be about the same thing as though you were to be marooned on a desert island without any tools, and with your rescue depending upon your ability to build a high-powered radio station with which to call to a mainland for help. However, if we don't try to get away, our only alternative is letting them know we're here, and joining our friends in captivity." "And then what?"