But before an hour had passed Penrun knew that he was going to master
his horror of that cavern and save her himself, or die in the attempt.
He, and he alone, had been in the cavern of the Living Dead and knew
what to expect--the fate that might be his as well as the girl's.

He wondered if that Englishman, that old man with the great beard who
said he had known Shakespeare and Bacon personally, was still lying in
his silken hammock at the far end of the cave. Know Shakespeare
personally? Impossible! Yet was it more impossible than the cavern
itself? The man's English was quaint and nearly unintelligible. His
description of that comical old space-ship of brass and wood was
plausible. Perhaps he had known the Bard of Avon.

* * * * *

Night had descended when Penrun finally emerged from his little ship.
The air was bitterly cold, and overhead the stars burned brilliantly.
He paused to marvel a little that the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, and the
other constellations appeared just the same out here hundreds of
millions of miles from Earth as they did at home. It made one feel
infinitely small to realize the pinpoint size of the Solar Universe.
He shivered for the temperature was nearly forty below zero, and
snapped on the current of his Ecklin electro-heater which was
connected with his clothing and would keep him warm even in that cold.

Another suit of slip-on clothes with an Ecklin heater, and his
lounging moccasins were in a pack on his back. If he succeeded in
releasing the girl, she would need them. The spider monsters didn't
leave their Living Dead victims any clothing usually; and little good
would it have done the Living Dead if they had.

Swiftly he descended the peak, leaping easily from rock to rock,
thanks to the small gravity of the planet, and presently entered the
clouds above the insect city. Abruptly the storm broke in all its fury
with the shrieking of the gale and driving snow. In the blackness the
pencil of light from his tiny flash showed only a few yards through
the swirling, driving flakes that bit and numbed his bare face. With
pistol ready he forged slowly ahead toward the cavern of the Living
Dead.

He bumped into the snow-covered rock before he realized he was close
to the place. With every nerve alert and the shrieking, freezing gale
forgotten he slipped the flashlight back into its holder and drew
another pistol. The door, he recalled, opened inward. It was