The nerve-store within and the
volt-tingle without had passed: my inflators weighed like lead.
"God, He knows!" said Captain George soberly "That old
shooting-star's skin-friction has discharged the different
levels. I've seen it happen before. Phew: What a relief!"
We dropped from ten to six thousand and got rid of our clammy
suits. Tim shut off and stepped out of the Frame. The Mark Boat
was coming up behind us. He opened the colloid in that heavenly
stillness and mopped his face.
"Hello, Williams!" he cried. "A degree or two out o' station,
ain't you?"
"May be," was the answer from the Mark Boat. "I've had some
company this evening."
"So I noticed. Wasn't that quite a little draught?"
"I warned you. Why didn't you pull out north? The east-bound
packets have."
"Me? Not till I'm running a Polar consumptives' sanatorium boat.
I was squinting through a colloid before you were out of your
cradle, my son."
"I'd be the last man to deny it," the captain of the Mark Boat
replies softly.
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