ess, swallowed up in this
unspeakable horror of soundless space. And, when he had quieted again,
he knew with a dreadful certainty that there was nothing there; he was
suspended in a great void--immersed in an ocean of some unknown gas.

The sense of loneliness that filled him was devastating. He could have
faced death as he had faced it before, unflinchingly; that was all in
the day's work. But here was something that tested sanity itself. Could
he but touch something substantial, he told himself, it would help him
to keep a grip on reality; even to see and feel one of the winged
horrors would be in a way a relief.

* * * * *

His struggles had ceased; all about him the atmosphere was quivering and
writhing with whirling light that swirled and danced and mingled one
glowing vortex with another. Then it, too, died; and, through the dark
that was relieved only by the faint luminosity of the quiescent gas, he
saw far off a point of light.

Here was something to which he could pin his eyes; something outside of
himself and the horror of nothingness in which he was immersed. He
stared through the window of his helmet while the light grew and
expanded into nebulous, cloudy glowing that faded and was gone.

Again it came and died; and a third time. And then Chet Bullard swore
loudly and harshly within the silence of his own metal sheath, while he
cursed his own dullness that had kept him from instant comprehension.

That light was far away, but, "Keep moving!" Chet called, hoping that
his voice might span the void. "Keep moving so I can see your light!
I'll try to swim over."

He threw himself over with a convulsive jerk and flattened the palms of
his hands in a breaststroke, while he kicked with his feet against the
dense atmosphere about him. And he saw with delight that the whirling
ripples of light moved back of him; he felt that he was making some
headway, slight though it must be.

* * * * *

He saw her at last, and heard her call:

"I am swimming, too," she cried. "How wonderful to see you! This
loneliness! It is horrible--unbearable!"

"I understand," Chet said; "it is pretty bad."

Then, at sound of a stifled sob, he gripped one reaching hand hard and
tried to bring himself out from under the pall that numbed his own mind;
he even attempted to force a note of lightness into his words.

"I've flown everything with wings," he told her, "but th