They emerged from the passage to find themselves on the slope of a rocky hillock. Low ridges rose around them, silhouetted in triple-moonlight. A whitish haze hung close to the ground, filling the hollows like shining water. Instinctively Brown looked up. A meteor, drawn by the immense gravity of Jupiter, flamed across the sky--that was all. And that was a familiar enough sight. Garth, reeling with fatigue, nodded. "River--down there. Half a mile. The fog's thicker--" "Okay. Let's go." This lap of the journey was nearly the hardest. But the low roar of the river steadily grew louder as they stumbled on, the luminous mist lapping their ankles, their knees, their waists. It closed above their heads, so that they moved in a ghostlike, shadowless world in which the very air seemed dimly lighted. Trees were visible. Garth, almost spent, searched for a shelving beach, found it, and dropped in a limp heap. He saw Paula sink down beside him. The men threw off their heavy packs with relief. Brown--the man was made of rawhide and steel!--said, "I'll need help to make a raft. The boys that feel tired can keep their eyes open for pursuit planes. I don't think the Commander would send out truck-cats at night, but he'll use searching planes." "They can't see us in this fog," Paula said faintly. "They could hear us, with their motors muffled. So we'll work fast. Garth!" "Yeah. What?" "What trees do we want?" Garth pointed. "_Lata._ Like that one, over there. They're easy to cut down, and they float. You'll find tough vines all around here." He forced the words out with an effort. Brown mustered eight of his men, including the red-haired Sampson, and led them away. The sound of ringing axes presently drifted back. Two others had been stationed on hillocks, above the low-lying fog, to watch for planes. Garth, alone with Paula, was almost too tired to be conscious of her presence. He heard her voice. "Cigaret?" "Thanks...." Garth took one. "Sorry I can't offer you a drink." "So am I," Garth grunted. He could feel her eyes on him. He drew the smoke deep into his lungs, exhaling luxuriously. "Got a gun?" "Yes. Why?" "Oh--things come out of the river sometimes. Hunting water-lizards, carnivorous. You learn to sleep with one eye open on Ganymede." "It's a funny world," Paula acknowledged. "Once it was highly civilized. Now it's gone back to savagery." "Conditions are bad here. Too vigorous. Jupiter gives light but not much heat. Animals and plants have to be tough to survive. This is summer-season, but it's plenty cold." "How much do you know about the Zarno?" she asked abruptly. Garth blinked. "Not much. Why?" "Not many people have ever seen them. I'm wondering. I managed to translate some inscriptions from Chahnn.... The Zarno aren't human, are they?" Garth didn't answer. Paula went on.