es
of warm seas. The place was desolate, and forlorn, and inexpressibly
lonely.

They had opened some of the ports for a breath of fresh air after long
weeks of the flat and second-hand product of the air filters, with its
faint odor of oil and disinfectant. The breeze that came in the open
ports was warm and moist and faintly salty.

"Rocket motors--minimum power!" Gerry commanded quietly. "There's no use
landing on one of those bare islets. We'll see what lies beyond the
mountains."

The subdued blast of only two rocket tubes began to drive the _Viking_
forward at a slow speed of about 300 M.P.H., while long fins were thrust
out at the sides to carry the weight and free the helicopters. All hands
were crowded at the windows and ports. After a moment Olga Stark turned
to Gerry.

"Our magnetic compasses are working again, Captain," she said quietly.
"I suggest going across the mountains and then turning southwest."

"Why there--rather than in any other direction?" Gerry asked quietly.
The girl shrugged.

"Just a hunch. Of course, it's all guesswork."

The _Viking_ had to go up to a level of 18,000 feet above this lonely
Venusian sea before she was above the peaks of the mountains. Then Gerry
turned her inland. Just before they left the shoreline they passed some
sort of a flying _thing_ that swooped down to prey on the sea-birds. It
had a reptilian body, and a spread of leathery wings about twelve feet
across.

"Will you look at that!" Steve Brent muttered.

"I'd hate to meet that on a dark night!" Gerry said grimly. Along the
shoreline as they flashed inland he could see monstrous, crawling things
that moved sluggishly along the beaches or in the shallows. It began to
seem that life on Venus was on a different level than that of the Outer
Planets.

The _Viking_ drove steadily westward across the mountains. From the
lower control room windows Gerry could see only drifted snow and naked
boulders, and the gauntly lonely peaks. The air was thin and cold. The
canopy of yellow clouds was only a little way above them. Then, across
the mountains at last, they dropped down toward a broad table-land
covered with patches of forest and alternate stretches of open
grass-land.

"Cut rockets!" Gerry snapped. "Prepare to land!"

A few minutes later the _Viking_ settled gently down in a broad
clearing, where the coarse grass was knee high. For the first time in
over six weeks the sound and vibration of the motors cease