ers crossed!"

"Why?" asked Roger.

"That we can dig enough of the sand away from the ship to make it
recognizable from the air."

Following Tom's lead, Roger and Astro climbed through the open port and
out onto the sand.

"Well, blast my jets!" said Astro. "You can't even tell there was a
storm."

"You can't if you don't look at the ship," said Tom bitterly. "That was
the only thing around here of any size that would offer resistance to
the sand and make it pile up. And, spaceman, look at that pile!"

Astro and Roger turned to look at the spaceship. Instead of seeing the
ship, they saw a small mountain of sand, well over a hundred feet high.
They walked around it and soon discovered that the window port in the
control deck had been the only possible way out.

"Call it what you want," said Roger, "but I think it's just plain dumb
luck that we were able to get out!" He eyed the mound of sand. Unless
one knew there was a spaceship beneath it, it would have been impossible
to distinguish it from the rest of the desert.

"We're not in the clear yet!" commented Astro grimly. "It would take a
hundred men at least a week to clear away enough of that sand so search
parties could recognize it." He glanced toward the horizon. "There isn't
anything but sand here, fellows, sand that stretches for a thousand
miles in every direction."

"And we've got to walk it," said Tom.

"Either that or sit here and die of thirst," said Roger.

"Any canals around here, Tom?" asked Astro softly.

"There better be," replied Tom thoughtfully. He turned to Roger. "If you
can estimate our position, Roger, I'll go back inside and see if I can
find a chart to plot it on. That way, we might get a direction to start
on at least."

Astro glanced up at the pale-blue sky. "It's going to be a hot day," he
said softly, looking out over the flat plain of the desert, "an awful
hot day!"

[Illustration]

CHAPTER 20

"Got everything we need?" asked Tom.

"Everything we'll need--and about all we can safely carry without
weighing ourselves down too much," answered Roger. "Enough food for a
week, the rest of the Martian water, space goggles to protect our eyes
from the sun and emergency lights for each of us."

"Not much to walk a hundred and fifty miles on," offered Astro. "Too bad
the sand got in the galley and messed up the rest of that good food."

"We'll have plenty to get us by--if my calculations are right," said
Tom. "One hun