Had Blacky Jordan turned viciously on the latecomer, striking her down as brutally as he had Chip and Salvation--that would have been understandable. Or had he meekly begged forgiveness--that, too, Chip could have understood. For the girl was--had to be!--either one of two things. Servant or mistress of the pirate chieftain. But Jordan did neither of these things. Instead, he fingered his cheek where it flamed dull scarlet against brown, and his eyes were cloudy pools of anger and some contrasting emotion Chip could not name. His fingers twitched, his mouth worked. Then something like a shrug stirred his shoulders; he turned to his silently watching followers. "Well--what are you standin' around here for? You got work to do, ain't you? Well, get goin', then!" With obedient alacrity the mob dispersed. Chip had his first clear, unobstructed view of the terrain upon which the _Chickadee_ had crashed. He saw that his guess had been a good one. It was an asteroid. And judging by the swift dip of the horizon, the visible arch of the distant landscape, a rather small one. Barely a mile in diameter. A mere sliver in the colossal débris of the Belt. But, then, whence came its gravity? Though he wore no bulger he felt comfortably secure on this tiny fragment of matter. And how did a floating rock of this size maintain an atmosphere of Earth normal? These were perplexing questions, but there was no opportunity now to solve them. For the girl had helped Salvation to his feet, had lent him a shoulder in support, and now was moving away. Jordan glared at her pettishly. "An' just where do you think you're goin'?" The Lorelei's gaze did not meet his, it passed clear through him as if he did not exist. Her voice was icy cold. "Stand aside, please! I'm taking him below." And again Blacky Jordan backed down! As before, his manner toward the girl was baffling. It was peremptory, yet at the same time conciliatory; at once truculent and submissive! He gave in with a graceless shrug. "Oh, all right! Take 'em _all_ below. I can't waste any more time on 'em right now. But I'll see 'em again later. Especially _you_--" He jerked his head toward Salvation, then stared thoughtfully at Chip--"and you, too, bucko. Yeah. Me and you is goin' to have a nice little talk later on." And he stalked away. Hope flared in Chip that now he might find a chance to improve their lot. Not one of the men was guarding them. Only this girl, and she was preoccupied with Salvation-- But--his hope was vain. No gaoler needs guard prisoners immured on a desert isle. Their weapons had been stripped from them, their ship was a tangled heap of wreckage. And there was no other space vessel in sight. Chip looked at Syd. Palmer's shake of the head confessed an equal bewilderment. Perhaps the answer to this mad situation lay where the girl led. The two spacemen followed. * * * * *