That got him. He snapped out of his trance and stared at me bewilderedly, his oversized Adam's-apple bobbling up and down in his throat like an unswallowed electric light bulb. "What's that, Sparks? High explosives!" And Diane said, "But that's impossible, Lancelot, dear. You _know_ Daddy would have told us, if--" That's as far as she got with her iffing, for at that moment the skipper himself came waddling across the field like a pint-sized tornado on toes and rasped, "All right, let's get going! Everybody aboard! Sparks, audio all hands to rocket posts and get your clearance O.Q. Lancelot, set trajectory for Iapetus--and make it snappy! We're lifting gravs immediately, if not sooner." "_Iapetus!_" gasped Diane. "But--but, Daddy, I thought we were shuttling a cargo to Uranus?" "_Was!_" snapped the Old Man. "Not is. Orders have been changed. Get going, everybody!" * * * * * Well, there are limits. I planted my tootsies in good old terra firma and said stubbornly, "Not me, Skipper. I'm not stirring a step till I know what this is all about. Why this sudden shift of destination? And what were you and Johnston sneaking around corners to whisper about? And what are those lead cubes the cradle monks have been storing in our bin?" "I ain't got time to explain now," said the Old Man. "Every minute counts. Now run along and--" "Ah-hah!" I ah-hahed. "So it is explosives! O.Q., Skipper, consider me an ex-member of the _Saturn's_ crew, as of two minutes ago. Space travel's dangerous enough without lousing it up with dynamite which might or might not. My aim is to sail the spaceways in _peace_ ... not in _pieces_." Cap Hanson's beefy face mottled dangerously, and he choked, "Confound you, Sparks, if there was another bug-pounder available I'd accept your resignation with whoops of glee. But as it is--Well, I'll tell you this much. It ain't explosives. It's something perfectly harmless but very valuable, which it's important we get to Iapetus before the Cosmic Corporation beats us there. _Now_--will you get goin', or do I have to--?" "Oh, goody!" squealed Diane. "A race, eh, Daddy?" "That's right," growled Hanson. "And a mighty important one, too, with about a quarter of a million credits hanging on it." I sniffed. "Is that all? Then what's all the rush about? The race is not always to the swift." "Oh, no?" The Skipper glared at me. "Says who?" "Says a guy named Aesop." "Well," snorted the Old Man, "all I got to say is that there Ee-sop friend of your'n didn't never bet on the ponies. Now, get goin', everybody, before I--" So we went. * * * * * So we went, and of course with Lancelot Biggs on the bridge handling things it didn't take long to get going. Within a half hour we'd lifted gravs from Sun City, and in three shakes of a rocket's tail, Biggs had twisted our crate's nose about and pointed it at Saturn's eighth satellite, approximately 800,000,000 miles away.