“He talking far?” Ushuaia Joe demanded.
Pete nodded. “Very far, Joe.”
The answer came, half an hour later: “Wonderful, F! We’re starting at once, naturally. Give us exactly twenty days and we’ll float in over your heads. That’s all, F. We’re signing off and rocketing in!”
“You see,” Mr. Fairchild explained, “the authorities will never find us here in Antarctica. It’s Earth’s final frontier, and except for a base at Little America some five hundred miles northeast of our present position, it’s deserted. Our plane will be icebound until summer, but by that time we should be able to blast it clear and start bringing goods, north. We’ll let the ice bury the spaceships completely, so if anyone on the hijacked ships got a good look at them, they’ll never be traced. Small loss, with millions o
