McCracken scratched his head vigorously. "I think Carvalho saw this
Mercurian and started to yell and run. I thought he was scared. That's
why I shot."
So Carvalho had really been responsible for the shooting. Lamoureux
asked, "Why didn't you report that Carvalho started to yell and run?"
"Well, Captain, you don't expect me to go around telling you things
like that about another guy?"
The words, "You fool," had been on Lamoureux's lips, but he bit them
back. After all, who had been the bigger fool, McCracken or he himself,
who had insisted that Carvalho get the radio? There was no doubt about
the answer to that one.
As for the occasion when the radio had begun to emit its mysterious
code signals, the explanation for that was simple enough, too. The
people who were in contact with Carvalho had sent their messages, not
knowing whether strangers might be listening in, but not caring either.
No one could make head or tail of the mysterious sounds but Carvalho.
McCracken had, in fact, considered the noises a new strange form of
static that had interfered when he tried to talk to Haskell.
Lamoureux felt like asking McCracken to kick him in the pants. As that
would have been bad for discipline, he substituted an order to get
started back toward the ship. There was the faintest of chances that
Carvalho had delayed, or had been forced by some accident to delay, his
departure back to Earth.
It was snowing harder than ever now, and it was difficult for Lamoureux
to see more than fifty feet ahead of him. The rim of the Sun was
blotted out so thoroughly that it was almost as dark as on a moonless
night. Nevertheless he pressed on doggedly.
It was not until six hours later, after he and the men had been
wandering around aimlessly for a long enough time to have reached the
ship and returned, that he admitted to himself that they were lost.
V
Not that it mattered a great deal. Lamoureux realized perfectly well
that by this time the _Astrolight_ was on its return journey to Earth.
All the same, it was disheartening to know that he was so completely
unable to find his way about on this planet.
The question now was what to do. They had little enough food, and not
too much in the way of other supplies. They would have to live off the
planet until some kind of rescue expedition had been organized to save
_them_. If Kalinoff had done it, they could, too. Lamoureux's face
burned as he pictured himself striding over to Kalinoff, staring at the
man solemnly, and uttering those historic words, "Dr. Livingston, I
presume." That was one scene that would never take place.
It was growing colder by the hour. That meant that they would have to
move over toward the Hot Side before the Sun sank beneath the horizon
altogether.
McCracken, the most cheerful of the lot, had a glum face as he asked,
"What do we do now, Captain?"
"First we eat, McCracken. Then we move toward the Sun. Just one word,
McCracken. You like to shoot?"
"Yes, sir."
"Save your bullets. I have an idea we're going to need them before this
little adventure of ours is finished."
Then Lamoureux sat down on a snowy rock, leaned back, and thought
everything over. It was improbable now that any of his kids would ever
get to Lunar Tech. Well, that wasn't anything to be sorry about. The
life of ease and luxury of the place had ruined more than one promising
youngster. His wife would have to get along with a single robot. It
would do her good to wait on the family for a change. As for his
relatives--to hell with them. Let them find somebody else to sponge on.
He was busy with these cheerful reflections when he heard McCracken
shout, "Hey!"
A figure loomed out of the snow ahead.
The figure paused and stared at Lamoureux.