"We're catching up with them," George exclaimed triumphantly. "We've got the faster plane. Where are they exactly? In space I mean." A brief pause. "Azeela says almost directly over the peak near the east edge of the city--the cavern peak." There were twin peaks, not over six hundred feet apart. The cavern peak was the northern one; through the floor window, George could see the summit of the other, directly beneath his plane. "How high is Toroh? They're using the 'copters?" "Yes." "How high up?" "She says about five hundred feet." It was the altitude at which George and Dee were hovering. George gazed through the side window. The other peak showed plainly. Above it was the exact space Toroh and Azeela were occupying. Their plane was invisible, of course--twenty-five years into the past. "They've passed three hundred years, George," the girl's voice informed him. "Three hundred years just now." "Two hundred and ninety," he read from their own dials. "Only ten years away! We'll overtake them shortly now." In the stress through which they had passed, and their excitement, neither of them had considered what they would do when they overtook Toroh. Indeed, it was Azeela who brought it to their minds with her anxious questions to Dee. They stared at each other in dismay. "How about my thunderbolt glove?" George suggested. "We can't use it," she reminded him. "If we destroy the other plane, Azeela would be killed." It was obvious. They could not attack the other plane under any circumstances. But Toroh was going to stop for weapons. They would have to stay near him, both in space and time, and when he stopped, and perhaps left the plane, they would rush up and rescue Azeela. It was all either of them could plan. "Keep as near them as we can," George decided. "That's the idea. And watch our chance. Tell Azeela to keep you posted on everything." They slowed their time-flight a trifle; it would have been foolish to let Toroh see them--merely put him on his guard. At a distance of about ten years they followed. At eight hundred years before the time they had left, the city of Orleen had disappeared. The island looked almost the same; the peaks were still there. But now among the palms there were only a few rude shacks--the earliest Bas settlers. The time-velocity of both planes was steadily increasing. Azeela's messages told them that the other plane was still hovering motionless. There was nothing to do. They waited, anxiously at first, and then, after an interval, fell into earnest conversation. "Suppose we can't rescue Azeela," George suggested once. "Toroh will use her as a hostage against your father, won't he? Offer her life, perhaps, if your father will help him in the war?" She nodded soberly. "That's why he abducted her before, Loto said. Did he make the offer then?" "No. But he was going to." "Why didn't you go after her?" he suggested. "Didn't she send back messages to you, Dee?"