All so abnormal, irrational, disturbing to human senses. With the mining work over, an irritability grew upon Grantline's men. And perhaps since the human mind is so wonderful, elusive a thing, there lay upon these men an indefinable sense of impending disaster. Johnny Grantline felt it. He thought about it now as he sat in the room corner watching Wilks being forced into the plaget-game, and he found it strong within him. Unreasonable, ominous depression! Barring the accident which had disabled his little space-ship when they reached this small crater hole, his expedition had gone well. His instruments, and the information he had from the former explorers, had picked up the ore-vein with a scant month of search. * * * * * The vein had now been exhausted; but the treasure was here. Nothing was left but to wait for the _Planetara_. The men were talking of that now. "She ought to be well mid-way from here to Ferrok-Shahn by now. When do you figure she'll be back here, and signal us?" "Twenty days. Give her another five now to Mars, and five in port. That's ten. We'll pick her signals in three weeks, mark me." "Three weeks! Just give me three weeks of reasonable sunrise and sunset! This cursed Moon! You mean, Williams, next daylight." "Hah! He's inventing a Lunar language. You'll be a Moon-man yet, if you live here long enough." Olaf Swenson, the big blond fellow from the Scandia fiords, came and flung himself down by Grantline. "Ay tank they bane without not enough to do, Commander. If the ore yust would not give out--" "Three weeks--it isn't very long, Ollie." "No. Maybe not." From across the room somebody was saying, "If the _Comet_ hadn't smashed on us, damn me but I'd ask the Commander to let some of us take her back. The discarded equipment could go." "Shut up, Billy. She is smashed." The little _Comet_, cruising in search of the ore, had come to grief just as the ore was found. It lay now on the crater floor with its nose bashed into an upflung spire of rock. Wrecked beyond repair. Save for the pre-arrangement with the _Planetara_, the Grantline party would have been helpless here on the Moon. Knowledge of that--although no one ever suspected but that the _Planetara_ would come safely--served to add to the men's depression. They were cut off, virtually helpless on a strange world. Their signalling devices were inadequate even to reach Earth. Grantline's power batteries were running low.[F] He could not attempt wide-flung signals without jeopardizing the power necessary for the routine of his camp in the event of the _Planetara_ being delayed. Nor was his electro-telescope adequate to pick small objects at any great distance.[G] All of Grantline's effort, in truth, had gone into equipment for the finding and gathering of the treasure. The safety of the expedition had to that extent been neglected. Swenson was mentioning that now.