Half asleep, aching with exhaustion, he slogged ahead, moving like an
automaton. And, whenever he slowed his pace, Brown's sharp voice urged
him on faster.
Grudgingly the Captain allowed them rest periods. But by the time they
reached the tunnel's end the men were panting and sweating, and both
Paula and Garth were near exhaustion. Thirty miles at a fast pace,
with only occasional rests, is wearing work.
* * * * *
They emerged from the passage to find themselves on the slope
of a rocky hillock. Low ridges rose around them, silhouetted in
triple-moonlight. A whitish haze hung close to the ground, filling the
hollows like shining water.
Instinctively Brown looked up. A meteor, drawn by the immense gravity
of Jupiter, flamed across the sky--that was all. And that was a
familiar enough sight.
Garth, reeling with fatigue, nodded. "River--down there. Half a mile.
The fog's thicker--"
"Okay. Let's go."
This lap of the journey was nearly the hardest. But the low roar of
the river steadily grew louder as they stumbled on, the luminous mist
lapping their ankles, their knees, their waists. It closed above their
heads, so that they moved in a ghostlike, shadowless world in which the
very air seemed dimly lighted.
Trees were visible. Garth, almost spent, searched for a shelving beach,
found it, and dropped in a limp heap. He saw Paula sink down beside
him. The men threw off their heavy packs with relief.
Brown--the man was made of rawhide and steel!--said, "I'll need help
to make a raft. The boys that feel tired can keep their eyes open for
pursuit planes. I don't think the Commander would send out truck-cats
at night, but he'll use searching planes."
"They can't see us in this fog," Paula said faintly.
"They could hear us, with their motors muffled. So we'll work fast.
Garth!"
"Yeah. What?"
"What trees do we want?"
Garth pointed. "_Lata._ Like that one, over there. They're easy to
cut down, and they float. You'll find tough vines all around here."
He forced the words out with an effort. Brown mustered eight of his
men, including the red-haired Sampson, and led them away. The sound of
ringing axes presently drifted back.
Two others had been stationed on hillocks, above the low-lying fog, to
watch for planes. Garth, alone with Paula, was almost too tired to be
conscious of her presence. He heard her voice.
"Cigaret?"
"Thanks...." Garth took one.
"Sorry I can't offer you a drink."
"So am I," Garth grunted. He could feel her eyes on him. He drew the
smoke deep into his lungs, exhaling luxuriously.
"Got a gun?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Oh--things come out of the river sometimes. Hunting water-lizards,
carnivorous. You learn to sleep with one eye open on Ganymede."
"It's a funny world," Paula acknowledged. "Once it was highly
civilized. Now it's gone back to savagery."
"Conditions are bad here. Too vigorous. Jupiter gives light but not
much heat. Animals and plants have to be tough to survive. This is
summer-season, but it's plenty cold."
"How much do you know about the Zarno?" she asked abruptly.