d not find any more. Two were gone.

* * * * *

Deep silence fell over the tiny group. The dark mass of the rocky
ceiling scraped their helmets; below, the bluish waters tapered into a
thick gloom, hiding, miles beneath, the mound-buildings and swarming
octopi.

One of the men spoke. His words were audible to everyone, and they
voiced the thought in every brain:

"What're we going to do now?"

Keith had no answer. They had escaped the immediate danger, but it was
only a temporary respite. The commander knew it was hopeless to try
and locate the tunnel leading to the outer sea, for they were very
tired, and in their clumsy suits they would be able to swim only a few
rods. Their helmet-lights were gone; they had played their last card.

"They're goin' to find us after a while," the pessimistic voice
continued. "They'll send that submarine of theirs after us--or maybe
they'll come up in their metal suits...."

"Well," Keith replied with forced cheerfulness, "then we'll have to
fight 'em off."

"Why not rip our suits an' end it now--" began another, but Graham's
voice cut in sharply.

"Quiet!" he said. "I heard something!"

The men stilled abruptly. In tense silence their ears strained at the
headphones. Wells asked: "What did you hear?"

"Wait!" Graham interrupted, listening intently. "There it is again!
Listen! Can't you hear it? Why, it sounded like--like--"

Keith concentrated his whole mind on listening, but could catch
nothing at all. He was just about to give up when he caught a faint,
jumbled murmur--the murmur of a human voice.

"My God!" he whispered. The voice, little by little, grew, and Wells
could distinguish words. They formed into a complete sentence. Keith
heard it plainly. It was:

"Now, what the hell's this thing for?"

* * * * *

Unmistakably, it was the voice of Cook Angus McKegnie, whom they all
had thought dead.

Amazed, the men of the crew started to jabber. "Quiet!" Wells ordered
sharply. He listened again. McKegnie's voice was growing quickly and
steadily louder.

"McKegnie!" the commander cried excitedly. "McKegnie, can you hear
me?" There was no answer. Patiently Wells waited a minute, every
second of which increased the volume of his long-lost cook's
bewildered tones. Again he tried.

"McKegnie! Can you hear me? This is Commander Wells. McKegnie!"

The cook's stammering voice came back:

"Why--why--is that