They came to the cataclysm that formed the island. George had forgotten it, but he chanced to be gazing down. The gray forests suddenly blurred; vague chaos passed over the earth, the air, and the sky; then there were the familiar mountains, the channel, the island! The myriad details of those hours of upheaval had been compressed, blended into a fraction of a second. The eye and the mind could not grasp it. The thing was past, done and away, with only its _effect_ left as evidence that it had occurred. George and Dee were above the channel and west of Orleen. No more than a hundred years now separated the planes. "What shall we do?" George demanded for the tenth time. And then an idea came to him. They could not attack Toroh until he reached his destination. He would be among his own army then, and rescue of Azeela would be impossible. But if Azeela could separate herself from Toroh now, he could never find her in time and probably wouldn't try. George explained it to Dee. Azeela was not bound; could she persuade Toroh on some pretext to land on the ground--then leap from the plane? The shock of stopping in time should be no different than when the plane itself stopped. Azeela had already thought of it; the idea had been prompted by the fact that Toroh's plane was running out of fuel. He would have to conserve it, not use the 'copters, or else he would have none left with which to get up north. George was trembling with excitement. "Tell her to suggest that they land." Toroh was, at that instant, landing. It was a familiar spot to Azeela; she described it exactly to Dee, and the younger sister recognized it. Toroh's plane had entered the second century before Fahn's time-world when George--some fifty years further back--arrived at the spot in space Azeela was describing. There was the little rise of ground, with the channel beyond. The vegetation was different, but the level rock was there. And Toroh's plane was resting on that level rock. Dee's voice was shaking so that she could hardly talk. "Will it--kill her, George?" He was white faced, tense. "Tell her to read the dials as exactly as she can." Azeela read them. George held his watch in his hand; he noted the hour and minute it gave. "She has called Toroh's attention to something outside," Dee's voice translated swiftly. "She opens the cabin door. He is behind her but he does not suspect." George kept his eyes on his watch. Two minutes since Azeela gave them her dial-reading, and he knew the approximate time-velocity of the other plane. Three minutes! "She is on the platform. The blurred rock is only a few feet below her. Azeela is pretending something is wrong under the plane. Toroh is beside her--but he does not touch her. He does not suspect she would dare...." Three minutes and a half. "She jumps--" George waited. "Is she all right? Is she all right?" Silence. "Can't you get her? Oh, Dee, can't you get her?" The communication was broken.