move, Wonstead was capable of reporting him to the captain for strange
behavior, and they were all too alert to a divagation which might mean
trouble. He had no desire to end in confinement with Morris.

"I'm coming," Raf said sullenly. But he remained sitting on the edge
of the pad until Wonstead left the cabin, and he followed as slowly as
he could.

So he was not with the others when a new sound tore through the
constant vibrating hum which filled the narrow corridors of the ship.
Raf stiffened, the icy touch of fear tensing his muscles. Was that the
red alarm of disaster?

His eyes went to the light at the end of the short passage. But no
blink of warning red shown there. Not danger--then what--?

It took him a full moment to realize what he had heard, not the signal
of doom, but the sound which was to herald the accomplishment of their
mission--the sound which unconsciously they had all given up any hope
of ever hearing. They had made it!

The pilot leaned weakly against the wall, and his eyes smarted, his
hands were trembling. In that moment he knew that he had never really,
honestly, believed that they would succeed. But they had! _RS 10_ had
reached the stars!

"Strap down for turnout--strap down for turnout--!" The disembodied
voice screaming through the ship's speecher was that of Captain
Hobart, but it was almost unrecognizable with emotion. Raf turned and
stumbled back to his cabin, staggered to throw himself once more on