inner cave was flooded
with light.

A box of food tablets was in a pocket of Chet's jacket, and there was
water that trickled in a tiny stream out of the rocks. It could have
been worse, Diane pointed out with forced gaiety. But Harkness, who
had gone back for a final look at the entrance to the cave, found it
difficult to smile.

He had found the entrance an opening no longer: it was sealed with a
giant web of ropy strands--a network, welded together to a glutinous
mesh. They were sealed in as effectively as if the opening were
closed by a thick door of steel.

They gathered fungus that grew in thready clumps on the walls, and
this served as a mattress to soften the rocky floor that must be their
bed. And Harkness sat silent in the darkness long after the others
were asleep--sat alone on guard, to think and to reach, at last, a
conclusion.

A cleavage in the rocks made a narrow crack to the outside world, and
through it the starlight filtered dimly. The thread of light grew
brilliantly golden--moonlight, a hundredfold more bright than
moonlight on Earth. And he realized that the source of light was their
own globe, Earth, shining far through space!

It lighted the cave with a mellow glow. It shone upon the closed eyes
of the sleeping girl, and touched lightly upon the rounded softness of
a lovely face beneath a tangle of brown curls. Harkness stared long
and soberly at the picture she made, and he thought of many things.

No parasite upon society was this girl. He had known such; but her
ready wit, her keen grasp of affairs, had been evident in their talks
on the journey they had made. They had stamped her as one who was able
to share in the work and responsibilities of a world where men and
women worked together. Yet there was nothing of the hardness that so
many women showed. And now she was altogether feminine, and entirely
lovely.

* * * * *

Not far away, Chet Bullard was sleeping heavily. His hand, injured
painfully when they tore it from the clinging mass, had been bandaged
by Diane. It troubled him now, and he flung one arm outward. His hand
touched that of the girl, and Harkness saw the instant quiet that came
upon him at the touch. And Diane--her lips were smiling in her sleep.

They had been much together, those two; theirs had been a ready,
laughing comradeship. It had troubled Harkness, but now he put all
thought of self aside.

"This trip," he thought, "can end