The little machine held two well enough; married terrapins on the march
carried their wives beside them and children stowed somehow and anyhow
in the rear compartment. Torcred snapped the catches of his safety
belt and motioned the girl to do the same; when she was slow to obey,
he leaned over and fastened the belt himself, drawing it painfully
tight about her slim waist. Then the engine's hum rose as he opened the
throttle; the wheels spun and gripped, and the terrapin bounded away,
bearing westward over the dunes. As it picked up speed Torcred was
touched by the familiar sense of power and mastery in the deep throb of
the motor and the ready surge of the armored car. But he brooded darkly
as mountain and desert rolled past in monotonous succession, as the
minutes heaped themselves into hours....
The sun was a redhot disc descending into a bath of fire in the west.
And minute by minute the angry light crept higher up the sky and
assumed new forms, clouds and streamers, for it was a mighty redlit
pall of dust that was ever higher and nearer to the rushing terrapin.
Torcred glanced sidelong at the girl beside him. Her face was even
whiter under the harsh light of sunset, her eyes closed beneath long
lashes. Watching that smooth, tragic face, Torcred realized again
how young she was; he shook his head somberly. The air-people were a
strange race, who sent their young females on missions fit only for
grown men. The terrapins were far more sensible.
But no terrapin woman had the strange beauty of this alien creature
from the sky....