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For a moment they all gasped for breath, but only for a moment. Then the gas began to flow from the life-torches, and they could breathe as well as they had done while in the projectile, or while on the earth. "Well, if this isn't great!" cried Jack, gazing about him. "It certainly beats anything I ever saw," came from Mark. "Wonderful, wonderful," murmured Professor Henderson.
His good spirits were contagious, not that Andy needed any special cheering up, but Mark did. In a few minutes they were seated on some rugged rocks, and, with their life-torches stuck in cracks, so that the perforated metal boxes of chemicals would be on a level with their faces, they opened the baskets they had been fore-sighted enough to bring with them.
Carrying their life-torches and wrapping their fur garments closely about them, for it had grown much colder, they sallied forth. They found a thin film of ice on the black pool, showing that it would probably freeze when it got cold enough, though the ordinary temperature of thirty-two degrees had not affected it.
"Take fresh life-torches with you," advised Mr. Henderson, "and you had better carry some food with you. It may be farther back than you think, and you may get hungry." "I guess it will be a good thing to take some lunch along," admitted Jack. "And some water, too. We can't get a drink here unless we come to a spring, and we haven't seen any since we arrived."
There were no long ranges of rugged peaks, though, but rather scattered pinnacles and deep hollows, great craters adjoining immense, towering steeples of rocks, with comparatively level ground in between. The life-torches worked to perfection.
And they had no means of making a fire, nor anything to burn on one had they been capable of kindling it, for Andy had used the last of his cartridges to blast with, and where everything was petrified there was no wood. Then, too, their life-torches were giving out. The emanations of oxygen were weaker, and they had to hold them almost under their noses to breathe the vital vapor.
Andy used up all but a few of his cartridges in firing signals, but to no purpose. Their water was all but gone, and of their food only enough remained for a day longer, though their life-torches still gave forth plenty of vapor. "Well, what's to be done?" asked Jack, as they sat about, looking helplessly at one another. "Might as well give up," suggested Mark bitterly. "Give up?
Questions, ejaculations and entreaties came rapidly from the lips of the wanderers. They raised their voices in a shout. They leaped up and down. They wildly waved their hands and life-torches. Then, to their inexpressible joy, they saw the course of the projectile change. It was headed toward them, and a few minutes later it settled slowly to the ground about half a mile away.
It was a new role for Mark to be cheerful in the face of difficulties and Jack appreciated it. They stretched out on the hard, rocky floor of the cavern, taking care to fix their life-torches so that the fumes would dispel the poisonous gases. Then the two lads joined Andy in slumberland.
I hope it will be soon, though." "Why?" asked Jack, struck by something in the tone of the old hunter. "Because," replied Andy, "I am afraid our life-torches won't last much longer. Mine seems to be weakening.
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