With a cautious movement that did not attract Toplinsky’s attention Billy Sand touched Epworth on the shoulder.

“The hatches may be closed but not locked,” he suggested in a whisper. “Perhaps we can get out on the top of the old crate, and find a way to get inside of the airchambers.”

Epworth dropped down as silently as possible from the air hole. The second he was away from the hole, Toplinsky popped up, and slammed the panel shut.

“Ah, ha, my young cockerel,” they heard him exclaim exultantly, “I guess that will fix you. I have not promised that I would save your life when it was in jeopardy. True I have said that I would not kill you. While this was under durance I shall stick up to it. However I am not responsible for the temperature of space. You should have remained where you belong.”

They heard him cackling shrilly but without pausing to hear more, accompanied by Michael, who had informed them that his last name was Strauss, they ran hurriedly to the hatch, pushing it open.

“Lady Luck,” Epworth exclaimed as he stepped out on the top of the airship. “Not a living object in view, but——”

He was going to speak of the force of the wind but realized with surprise that there was no wind. They were already beyond the earth’s stratosphere.

They climbed out of the storeroom, dropped the hatch door into place, and started to walk along the narrow runway over the top of the plane. Epworth, who was in the lead, glanced outward.

Six hundred miles an hour, and no place to fall. In every direction extended a dense black sky, lighted by gleaming balls of red that he knew were stars and the sun—nothing above, nothing below, and on each side endless ether. If they fell off this ship going with incredible swiftness, where would they go? They were now too far away from the earth to fall back on the terrestrial globe, and even if the gravital drag of the earth grasped them they would be frozen stiff before they got there, or shattered into fragments if they landed. It was a cold, clammy, helpless feeling. Once off that ship they would go nowhere; they would find death in endless space, where it is supposed to be 439° below zero.

Aside from this they realized that they had very few minutes to spare. They must get below into the air chambers very quickly or perish with cold, or in the rare atmospheric void.

All three were suddenly afflicted with vertigo, and began to reel along dangerously near the edges of the little platform-run. Realizing that this was certain destruction, they gained control of their faculties by sheer force of will power, and holding their breath dashed up to the first hatchway, and pulled at the ring.

It was locked on the inside, and therefore immovable.

For a second Epworth was appalled. Had Toplinsky beaten him to the idea of escape? If so they were doomed. Already it was too late for them to run back to the storeroom hatch opening. They were too far spent to undertake it.

Had they simply jumped from one death to another in leaving the storeroom? Epworth shivered at the thought—with cold as well as the fear of death. For the first time he thought of his body floating through space, embalmed in ice.

Then gathering his courage he ran on to the next hatch opening. By this time he had discovered that the openings in the top of the airship were four in number and about equal distances apart.

Glory be! The hatch door was locked but a small, slender stairway ran down the side of the ship to a side door. Like a monkey he flashed down this stairway followed by his companions. They dropped onto a small square platform, and Epworth caught the bright knob of the door. If it was locked they were as good as dead men. They were still holding their breath, and life hung by a hair.

He jerked at the door nervously. It slid open, and he darted in instantly. As his companions came down the ladder he caught each frantically and pulled him inside, closing the door.

With one motion the three opened their mouths, and gulped down the living, warm air. They were all but gone, and it required several seconds for them to recover.

They were treading softly down the narrow companionway when a door opened and Toplinsky came out of Joan’s room.

“By this time,” he was saying, “that young brother of yours is dead, and I am going to change your place of abode.”

He extended his hand to pull the girl out of the room.

“I’m not going. I’m going to stay here, and get that panel open so my brother can get air.”

She jerked back, and the giant put forth some force to move her.

Epworth bounded forward with fierce anger, and before the giant could turn brought the butt of his gun down on the giant’s head.

“Get inside, and lock the door,” he urged. “Make it snappy—before some one else drifts along.”

“Not by myself,” Joan protested quickly, sensing that in some miraculous manner Epworth and his friend had escaped death in the storeroom. “You and Billy must come in also.”

“Michael Strauss, the guard who is with us, must also come.”

“Just as you say.”

“In with you, Billy.”

Billy and Michael entered the room while Epworth guarded Toplinsky with his gun. Just as Michael disappeared Toplinsky came around. He had been knocked a little silly but was not totally out—just enough to permit Billy and Michael to get into Joan’s room without being discovered.

“Not a move! Not a whimper!” Epworth thundered when he discovered that Toplinsky was coming back to the world. “There is not going to be a loud noise.”

“Ah, ha, so you would threaten again,” Toplinsky shouted. “Ho, comrades, this way.”

The scientist was demonstrating that he was a man without fear.

Epworth did not wait for the guards to appear, and from natural kind heartedness did not strike the giant with the gun. Instead he slipped into Joan’s room, and slammed and locked the door.

“So far so good,” he murmured. “Now if they do not shut off the supply of air.”

“If he does that,” Michael explained, “we can knock a hole in the door, and get air from the outside. The ship is constructed so that the air is always inside of the companionway.”

“Fine and dandy,” Billy grinned in high good humor. “We are all dressed up and on our way.”

“On our way,” Joan interposed, “but while we are traveling what will we eat? I am already hungry.”

The three Americans looked at each other in dismay.