He had scarcely done this before the pit of his stomach seemed to dive into his shoes, and he felt that exhilarating “first minute of acceleration” he had read so much about. When this was over, he knew the _Hercules_ had climbed above the bulk of Earth’s atmosphere and was leveling off on a horizontal curve from the planet’s surface. The rotation of the Earth would give the spaceship a final boost into the deeps. When Jim’s stomach quieted, he unbuckled and attempted to get to his feet. The motion sent him flying up into the air! It then struck him that he had forgotten about the weightlessness of space. Some ships had artificial gravity in them; but because the _Hercules_ was chiefly a pleasure ship, the tourists preferred to “rough it.” Jim became almost panicky in his efforts to right himself. His forehead grew hot although the cool atmosphere of the compartment was comfortable. He guessed that it wasn’t entirely the shock of no gravity that was making him sweat. He was thinking about his unpaid passage on the _Hercules_. “I’m a stowaway,” he thought. “I’ll be sent to jail for this.” He had read about the severe penalty for trying to hitch a ride on a space vessel. This was because weight was critical, and the addition of just a few extra pounds could prevent the rocket fuel from pushing the ship to its distant port, could even cause disaster. Jim felt his head where he had taken the near knockout blow. There was only a small bump. Who would ever believe his story of what had really happened? Besides, he’d had no business trying out the degravity cot. While he was pondering what he should do, there was a rap on the door of the suite. Jim slunk against the far wall, dreading to be found out. “Are you all right, Mr. Bowers?” came a deep voice. Jim opened his mouth to reply but only a wordless croak came out. The door swung open, and a husky steward with a young face “swam” in. At sight of Jim a surprised look crossed his features. “What are you doing here?” he blurted. “Where’s Mr. Bowers?” Jim felt as though he were in a crazy dream. The steward was floating toward him like a phantom in a nightmare, while he himself was like a desperate fish without fins in this strange sea of weightlessness. “I don’t know Mr. Bowers,” Jim managed to reply, then went on to explain what had happened. The steward looked at him skeptically, his round face attempting to judge him. “Is this the truth?” he asked. Jim nodded and showed the bump on his head. Then he waited tensely for the verdict. “Somehow I believe you,” the steward said sympathetically. “Thanks,” Jim returned. He quickly decided that he liked the young steward with the surprisingly deep voice.