rface of his curving helmet.
Some of the bits of coral around them glowed with an eerie green
radiance, and a tall frond of sea-weed had tiny specks of light on the
tips of its constantly waving leaves. Then, far off to the left, Gerry
caught a faint glow.

It was hard to tell what kind of a light it was, so great was the
refraction of the water, but there was something there. It was little
more than a lessening of the deep gloom that otherwise surrounded them
on all sides. Gerry got to his feet and picked up his rubber saddle
which he had been using as a pillow under his helmet.

"We'd better investigate," he said. "Wake Closana."

They saddled their dolphins and rode out at an easy pace, holding the
big fish down with a tight rein. As they rode the glow ahead of them
became more definite. It seemed to come from a long row of twenty or
more lights. Then they were near enough to see each other in the
reflected glow.

"It's some kind of a ship," Gerry said. "Those lights are her port
holes!"

"It's more than that!" snapped Angus. "It's the _Viking_! I know the
lines of her stern anywhere, even in this sunken and God forsaken spot!"

The space-ship lay quietly in the soft mud of this part of the ocean
bottom. All her port holes of transparent duralite were glowing with the
reflected light from inside. The twisted wrecks of her helicopters were
still visible on top of the hull, but otherwise she did not appear to be
damaged.

Gerry was in the middle as the three of them rode their dolphins up
close to one of the big windows of the control room. The ship had
evidently survived the fall into the water, for they could see dim
figures moving about inside.

"I told you that duralite hull could stand a little thing like a fall
into the ocean!" McTavish exulted.

As they crowded their finny steeds close to the glass of the control
room window, Portok the Martian came to peer out. His red-skinned face
went pale as he saw them, and even through the ship's hull their
audiphones picked up his agonized cry.

"Steve! Tanda! I just saw the ghosts of Norton and McTavish looking in
the window!"

Steve Brent came into the control room. He looked haggard and unshaven,
and he was stained with oily grease.

"What are you raving about, Portok?" he snapped.

"It's no raving, Steve!" the little Martian chattered, "I tell you I saw
the three of them. The Chief, and Angus, and the Amazon girl--all riding
on some kind of big fish