"To a frazzle."
"But the bravesd bad in the world gan'd go all day withoud breathig."
"True enough. But Alton has the same system of oxygen cylinders as the
U-boats--only better. More condensed and lasts longer. Uses same air
more times without deteriorating."
"Well, whadever habbens, he busd be glever."
"Clever! He beats the devil."
"Will he ever gum bag, Jibby?"
"Dunno."
"I subbose the gradest danger is in being hid by a medeoride. I
understand those rogs are always shoodig about in spaze."
"Yep; and all the way in size from a liver pill to a state house. But
that isn't what'll knock him out."
"Berhabs dod, bud I shouldn'd gare do be there iv one habbened to hid
him."
"Right you are. He'd have about as much show as a bottle of ginger
ale colliding with a locomotive. But astronomers say they are not
so very numerous. What he's most afraid of himself is some sudden
electric disturbance in his own machine that will put his own nervous
system out of commission. You see nobody really knows what is going
on in space. And if his nerves or lungs or brain go back on him, in
anyway--Ping!--he's a goner."
After a pause the Rose Cold spoke in a more serious tone.
"Well, I taig off my had to him. It's a big thig, thad zord of gourage."
"I should say! And he knows himself there isn't one chance in a hundred
of his ever touching this little earth again."
Here the attention of both men was drawn to the girl in front of them,
who suddenly started from her seat--with both hands pressed hard
against her face. She stood for a moment as if in pain, or under some
mental disturbance. Then, sinking back into her seat, she appeared to
be looking quietly out of the window during the short remainder of
the journey. Although her action caused them no further interest, nor
curiosity, it served to divert their talk from Cyrus Alton--a subject
apparently exhausted--to other matters of no interest to Ruth Heywood.
[Illustration]