alley behind the school.

The cylinder creaked back to the loading position; in a moment Frank landed beside him. Jim helped him up. "Boy, are you a mess!" he said, brushing at a bit of mashed potato that clung to his chum's suit.

"So are you, but there's no time to worry about it. Gee, but it's cold!"

"It'll be warmer soon. Let's go." The pink glow of the coming Sun was already lighting the eastern sky, even though the air was still midnight cold. They hurried down the alley to the street in back of the school and along it to the right. This portion of the city was entirely terrestrial and could have been a city in Alaska or Norway, but beyond them, etched against the lightening sky, were the ancient towers of Syrtis Minor, denying the Earthlike appearance of the street.

They came, as they had planned, to a tributary canal and sat down to put on their skates. They were racers, with 22inch razoriike blades, intended for speed alone. Jim finished first and lowered himself to the ice. "Better hurry," he said. "I almost froze my behind."

"You're telling me!"

"This ice is almost too hard to take an edge."

Frank joined him; they picked up their bags and set out. A few hundred yards away the little waterway gave into the Grand Canal of the city; they turned into it and made speed for (he scooter station. Despite the exercise they were tingling with cold by the time they got to it.

They went through the pressure door and inside. A single clerk was on duty there. He looked up and Frank went to him. "Is there a scooter to South Colony today?"

"In about twenty minutes," said the clerk. "You want to ship those bags?"

"No, we want tickets." Frank handed over their joint funds.

Silently the clerk attended to the transaction. Jim heaved a sigh of relief; scooters to the colony did not run every day. The chance that they might have to keep out of sight for a day or more and then try to get away without encountering Howe had been eating at him.

They took seats in the back of the station and waited. Presently Jim said, "Frank, is Deimos up?"

"I didn't notice. Why?"

"Maybe I can get a call through to home."

"No money."

"I'll put it through collect." He went to the booth opposite the clerk's desk; the clerk looked up but said nothing. Inside, he signalled the operator. Subconsciously he had been worrying about getting word to his father ever since Willis had spilled the secret of the so-called non-migration policy.

The screen lighted up and a pleasant-appearing young woman with the fashionable striped hair appeared therein. "I'd like to call South Colony," he said.

"No relay until later this morning," she informed him.

"Would you like to record a delayed message?"

He was stopped; delayed messages were not accepted on a collect basis. "No, thank you, I'll try later," he fibbed and switched off.

The clerk was tapping on the booth's door. "The driver is ready for you," he told Jim. Jim hurriedly settled his mask in place and followed Frank out through the pressure door. The driver was just closing the baggage compartment of the scooter. He took their tickets and the two boys got aboard. Again they were the only passengers; they claimed the observation seats.

Ten minutes later, tired of staring almost into a rising Sun, Jim announced, "I'm sleepy. I think I'll go down."

"I think I'll ask the driver to turn on the radio," said Frank.

"Oh, the heck with that. We've both had a hard night.

Come on."

"Well-all right." They went into the lower compartment, found bunks, and crawled in. In a few minutes they both were snoring.

The scooter, leaving Syrtis Minor at sunrise, kept ahead of the daily thaw and did not have to lay over at Hesperidum. It continued south and reached Cynia about noon. So far advanced was the season that there was no worry about the ice holding from Cynia south to Charax; Strymon canal would not thaw again until the following spring.

The driver was pleased to have kept his schedule. When Deimos rose toward the end of the morning's run he relaxed and switched on his radio. What he heard caused him to make a quick check of his passengers. They were still asleep; he decided not to do anything about it until he reached Cynia station.

On reaching there he hurried inside. Jim and Frank were awakened by the scooter stopping but did not get out. Presently the driver came back and said, "Meal stop. Everybody out."

Frank answered, "We're not hungry."

The driver looked disconcerted. "Better come in anyhow," he insisted. "It gets pretty cold in the car when she's standing still."

"We don't mind." Frank was thinking that he would dig a can of something out of his bag as soon as the driver had left; from suppertime the night before until noon today seemed a long time to his stomach.

"What's the trouble?" the driver continued. "Broke?" Something in their expressions caused him to continue, "I'll stake you to a sandwich each."

Frank refused but Jim interceded. "Don't be silly. Frank. Thank you, sir. We accept."

George, the agent and factotum of Cynia station, looked at them speculatively and served them sandwiches without comment. The driver bolted his food and was quickly through. When he got up, the boys did so, too. "Just take it easy," he advised them. "I've got twenty, thirty minutes' work, loading and checking."

"Can't we help you?" asked Jim.

"Nope. You'd just be in the way. I'll call you when I'm ready."

"Well-thanks for the sandwich."

"Don't mention it." He went out.

Less than ten minutes later there came faintly to their ears the sound of the scooter starting up. Frank looked startled and rushed to the traffic-checking window. The car was already disappearing to the south. Frank turned to the agent. "Hey, he didn't wait for us!"

"Nope."

"But he said he'd call us."

"Yep." The agent resumed reading.

"Butbut why," insisted Frank. "He told us to wait."

The agent put down his newspaper. "It's like this," he said, "Clem is a peaceable man and he told me that he wasn't a cop. He said he would have no part in trying to arrest two strapping, able-bodied boys, both wearing guns."

"What!"

"That's what I said. And don't go to fiddling around with those heaters. You'll notice I ain't wearing my gun; you can take the station apart for all of me."

Jim had joined Frank at the counter. "What's this all

about?" he asked.

"You tell me. All I know is, there's a call out to pick you up. You're charged with burglary, theft, truancy, destruction of company property-pretty near everything but committing a nuisance in the canal. Seems like you are a couple of desperate characters-though you don't look the part."

"I see," said Frank slowly. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. 'Long about tomorrow morning a special scooter will arrive and I presume there will be force enough aboard her to subdue a couple of outlaws. In the meantime do as you please. Go outside. Wander around. When you get chilly, come back inside." He went back to his reading.

"I see. Come along, Jim." They retreated to the far comer of the room for a war conference. The agent's attitude was easily understood. Cynia station was almost literally a thousand miles from anywhere; the station itself was the only human habitation against the deadly cold of night.

Jim was almost in tears. "I'm sorry. Frank. If I hadn't been so darned anxious to eat, this wouldn't have happened."

"Don't be so tragic about it," Frank advised him. "Can you imagine us shooting it out with a couple of innocent bystanders and hijacking the scooter? I can't." "Uh-no. I guess you're right."

"Certainly I am. What we've got to decide is what to do next."

"I know one thing; I'm not going to let them drag me back to school."