In ignorance of what was in store for them, Bennie and Rhoda strolled further and further up the beach, away from the hotel. The moon came up round and full, smiling like an old and familiar friend. The breeze had died away, and the silver-edged waves lapped the soft sand gently at their feet as they threw themselves at full-length under some stray pines and gazed up through the branches at the blue arch with its thousands of twinkling lights. "I like them so much better that way!" she murmured. "If they don't wink at you, it seems so unfriendly!" "It _was_ awful up there!" he assented. The moon swam higher and higher, turning the beach into a white snow-drift, along which, save for that of the pines under which they lay, no shadow could be seen for miles. Toward this single possible hiding-place moved Diggs, a newspaper reporter from New York. The crunch of his steps made them sit up hurriedly. "Sh! Somebody's coming!" he whispered. They were motionless--two hunted creatures--scarcely breathing, in a black island surrounded by a deluge of moonlight. But Diggs had spied them. Fifty feet away, he paused and lit a warning cigarette. Then he walked down to the water's edge, gazed pensively at the moon and remarked, "I say, Professor Hooker?" "It's no use," growled Bennie; "he's got us! Hello!" he answered. The reporter coughed and came slowly toward the patch of shadow. "Excuse me," he remarked briskly; "but you understand there's a whale of a story in all this, and it's up to me to get it? You can't blow up a meteor and knock the solar system topsyturvy and get away without even being interviewed, you know. Sorry--but it isn't done. What do you suppose they would do to me? And then there's Mrs. Hooker, you see! If it hadn't been for Mrs. Tassifer--" Rhoda suddenly spoke up. "What has she said?" she demanded. "Oh, she gave us the romance stuff," he answered. "Look here, now: It's ten o'clock, and I've got to 'phone this to New York in time for the early edition. Do you mind my asking just a few questions?" "But I haven't anything to say," expostulated Professor Hooker. "Just listen to the man!" groaned Diggs. "Let me ask you: Is this story about landing on the moon perfectly straight?" Rhoda pointed up through the trees to the great yellow circle of the lunar orb. "Do you see that bright spot with the shadow on the left-hand side of it?" "Sure," answered Diggs. "Well," she continued, "I was standing right there less than thirty-six hours ago." "Great stuff!" Diggs exclaimed. "But how could you prove it? What _evidence_ have you got?" "I've got plenty of photographs," she answered. "Dozens of them--of the moon, of the crescent earth--" "Beg pardon! Of the--what?" "The crescent earth," she explained, "at about the first quarter. I suppose the phrase seems a little strange." "Oh--like the moon. I get you," he nodded. "But pictures might be faked." "These weren't," she retorted wearily.