Because of the light moon gravity, the boys found that they could move
easily in spite of the deep dust and of the equipment strapped to their
backs. The equipment took up as much room as it would have on earth, but
here it weighed only one sixth of its earth weight and so was not much
of a burden.
In a short while they were out of sight of the flier. They had mounted a
low-lying hill and crossed down the other side. It would still be a long
time before they got out of the giant crater in which the flier had
landed, but by the time they did get out they would be well along toward
their destination.
“We seem to be making good time, Patch,” Garry said over his helmet
radio.
“Yeah,” Patch replied. “It’s so much easier walking on the moon than it
is on the earth, once you get the hang of it.”
“Just think, Patch. Captain Eaton really was going to try to adopt us,”
Garry said. “And all the time we thought he didn’t care enough.”
“He’s one in a million, Garry. He would have been the grandest father a
guy could ever have.”
“What do you mean he _would_ have?” Garry protested. “He _will_ be our
father. We’re going to _save_ him, Patch. We’re going to save all of
them.”
“I want to save them too,” Patch said earnestly. “I’d sure hate for us
to make it and them not to.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk so much,” Garry advised. “It uses up more
oxygen, and I don’t think we have a surplus of it.”
They slogged silently through the gray dust in the bouncy, light-footed
motion that they had become accustomed to by now. Every once in a while
Garry would glance about him at the forbidding countryside of this dead
world. Sight of the desolation chilled his soul. He wondered at first
why this was so. Then he supposed that it must be because there was so
much absolute _deadness_ all about. For nothing could live in the
numbing cold and the boiling-hot temperatures that came to this
landscape periodically. No, he and Patch were the only living creatures
from one horizon to the other, and this fact was enough to give anyone
the shivers.
Finally Garry broke the long silence.
“Patch, do you notice we’re able to move along easier now?” he asked.
“It’s because the dust is thinning out, isn’t it?” Patch replied. “But I
see the rocky country up ahead that the captain was telling us about.”
“Yes,” Garry said, “and from the way he talked, it’s going to be plenty
rugged getting through there.”
They increased their speed, now that the going was easier.
Garry stole a look at the big green jewel of earth afloat in the black
sea of space, for it alone seemed to lend an air of friendliness and
security to the otherwise lonely, sinister surroundings. The walls of
Hornfield Crater about them were jagged as sharks’ teeth as they reached
up into the darkness. The stars seemed to Garry like sparkling
snowflakes dusted across the entire vault of the sky. The nebulae were
like misty clouds, and there was the long arch of a great comet crossing
just above the horizon and standing out remarkably because of its being
so different from everything else in the whole visible sweep of the
heavens.
After a few hours of steady hiking, Patch suggested that they take a
short break to rest and eat. Garry was ready for the same.
Garry checked their map and compared the markings on it to their true
surroundings. “We seem to be still on course, Patch,” he said.
By now they had moved up on a higher plateau within the crater, and the
dust had thinned so that solid rock could be felt underfoot. But not far
beyond lay the wilderness of rock they had seen earlier at a distance.
How huge and forbidding the region looked!
Garry stopped walking and plopped down in his tracks, heaving a sigh.
Patch sat down beside him.
Garry took tubes of liquid food and a couple of water bottles from the
pack he carried. He offered Patch his share and took some for himself.
Each boy unscrewed a plate that covered the mouth of his helmet. Behind
this was a rubber disk with a self-sealing opening in the middle of it.
All the boys had to do was thrust the tubes of food and water through
these openings and take them between their lips. By squeezing the tubes,
they forced the contents into their mouths.
“Got a napkin?” Patch joked, when they were through. “I’d like to wipe
my mouth.”
“Sorry,” Garry answered, “but they haven’t figured out a way to do that
yet.”
Patch climbed to his feet, screwing his outer mouthplate back on. “Well,
that wasn’t exactly like carving into a steak, but I guess it’ll do
until we can get something better,” he said.
They started out again, and soon approached the forbidding rocky region
they had dreaded. The ground was rough and uneven. Garry looked ahead,
and it was like staring into the mouth of a vast cavern.
“We’ve got to be careful, Patch,” Garry warned, as he slowed down and
held back his friend. “There may be bad crevasses across our path, and
they could be the end of us if we should fall in.”
Garry took the responsibility of going first. Patch was right behind,
holding on to a strap on Garry’s suit.
It was like going into a dark underworld thriving with all kinds of
unknown dangers. Although he was following very closely, Patch could
barely see Garry’s outline ahead of him. Garry would carefully slide one
foot ahead of him to be sure he had solid ground underfoot.
After what seemed a very long time, Patch complained: “This is giving me
the willies, Garry. How much farther do you think we’ve got to go?
Besides, this is slowing us down almost to a crawl.”
“I think I see a break up ahead,” Garry encouraged. “It seems we’re
making a wide turn, and the farther we go the more earthshine I think I
can make out.”
“Gee, I’d give anything I’ve got for a light of some kind,” Patch
groaned.
“That’s about the only thing they couldn’t provide for us,” Garry said.
“Remember we used up our flashlight when we cut down on our power supply
in the flier.”
“I remember,” Patch returned.
Patch felt that Garry was slowly descending as he walked.
“Hey, where are you going?” Patch asked.
“There seems to be an incline going down,” Garry replied. “I sure hope
it comes back up and doesn’t drop off so that we can’t cross to the
other side.”
“Ugh,” Patch shuddered. “Don’t even _think_ about that. Remember,
Captain Eaton told us not to come back.”
“Just keep up with me and go slowly,” Garry instructed. “We’ll find out
what’s ahead in a few minutes.”
Down, down they went on a gentle slope.
“When are we going to start up?” Patch asked worriedly.
“I don’t know,” Garry replied, a little anxious himself.
Suddenly Garry moved too fast for Patch to keep up and lost contact with
him. Patch lost his head momentarily and cried out, dashing forward to
regain touch with Garry. In his haste, Patch tripped and fell on the
jagged rocks. On the earth this would have been a bad fall, but the
weaker gravity here saved him from serious injury. But the weaker
gravity also gave him a longer sprawl and carried him down the slope.
As soon as Garry heard Patch’s frantic cry, he grabbed wildly in the
darkness, hoping by chance to reach his friend. But his hands met only
empty air.
Patch’s shrieks were cut off abruptly, and stark silence filled Garry’s
ears.
“Patch!” Garry called, dread making him tremble all over. “Patch, where
are you?”
He had a mad impulse to leap down the incline, grabbing desperately at
anything within reach. But he knew this could be disastrous for both
himself and Patch.
Slowly, Garry inched farther downward, heartsick as he considered the
things that might have happened to his friend—a fall knocking him out or
worse, or a tumble down a deep, treacherous pit.
“Patch!” he kept calling. “Patch!”
The frightening moments of anguish were relieved when Garry finally
heard a faint voice.
“Patch, where are you?” Garry asked over and over, as he inched
downward, ever downward.
“Here, Garry,” came the very weak voice.
Thinking Patch was still far off, Garry slid his feet with more urgent
speed through the utter blackness. Then the toe of his boot kicked
something soft.
“Garry, don’t!” came a low-pitched, terrified voice. “You’re kicking the
hand I’m holding on by!”
Then Garry realized what had happened, and the thought of the costly
mistake he had almost made sickened him for a moment. Patch’s radio
antenna had evidently been damaged in his fall, making his call for help
seem farther off than he really was.
Garry stooped down, his hands closing over the gloved hand he had nearly
knocked from its precarious position.
“Garry!” Patch said, his voice still a little hysterical. “I’m hanging
on a cliff of some kind, and my feet aren’t touching anything! Please,
Garry, get me up before I let go! I feel my hands slipping!”
“Hold on, Patch! Try to keep holding! I’ve got to get a foothold or we
both may go over!”
Garry quickly kicked loose dust from underfoot and brushed it some more
with his gloved hands. Then he leaned over and reached for Patch’s
clinging hands. He slid his own hands below Patch’s wrists, closing his
fingers about those wrists for dear life.
“I’ve got a good hold, Patch,” Garry panted. “Brace your feet and help
me as I try to pull you up. Ready?”
“Ready, Garry!” came Patch’s weak voice.
Making sure his feet were well anchored, Garry pulled with all his
might. For an instant Patch’s body resisted him like a dead weight.
Then, with an almost superhuman effort, Garry was able to hoist him up
... up ... up and over onto the ledge safely. Then both of them slumped
exhaustedly on the rocky brink.
The boys were quiet for several seconds as they caught their breath in
the pitch darkness and considered how close it had come to being all
over for Patch.
“Garry,” his grateful friend managed to say finally, “I’ll make it up to
you. If we ever get out of this alive, I’ll make it up to you.”
“Never mind that,” Garry said. “You didn’t lose anything when you fell?
You’ve still got the extra oxygen tanks?”
A dead silence followed, and that silence caused Garry to feel a clutch
of dread.
“You lost them, didn’t you?” he asked with a hopeless groan.
Garry heard a faint sob over his helmet receiver. Then Patch fairly wept
out the words he next spoke: “Yes, yes, I did! Push me back in, Garry!
Push me back in! We’re lost for sure now!”