"Fully armed, though. There are sixty in the expedition altogether, but I could only feel sure of ten. Some of them I planted myself." Garth took the cigaret Brown handed him. "Thanks ... I know Chahnn pretty well. Once we get there, we can get away from the others." "How?" "Underground passages--not well known. We'll come out about thirty miles from Chahnn, and from there it's another twenty to the Black Forest." "The last lap on open ground?" "Yeah." "Not so good. If Benson misses us, he'll have planes out scouting. I've a hunch he's suspicious already." "If he catches up with us, so what? There'll be other chances." "That's what you think," Brown said grimly. "I told you Benson was a tough egg. He'd clap us all in the brig and we'd end up with prison sentences on Earth--hazarding the success of a planetary expedition, they call it. So you see why we've got to find this treasure, whatever it is." "Then you don't know either, eh?" "Maybe I've a few ideas.... Finished? Let's go, then." Brown came to his feet. * * * * * Garth followed Brown out of the ship, pondering. The Ancients had, admittedly, been an incredibly advanced race. Any treasure they thought worth guarding would be plenty valuable. Gold? Gems? They seemed trivial, compared to the tremendous scientific powers of the Ancients. And unimportant as well, while the Silver Plague raged over Earth. They moved along the string of truck-cats, each loaded with the necessary equipment, and reached the first. Commander Benson was already there, talking to the pilot. He looked around. "Ready? What's your name--Garth? All right, get in." The front compartment of the truck-cat was roomy enough. Paula Trent, Garth saw, was already there. She gave no sign that she noticed him. He shrugged and found a seat, and Captain Brown dropped beside him, impassive as ever. The pilot came in. "Sit up here, next to me, buddy," he ordered. "I'll need your help wrestling this tank through the arroyos." Benson himself was the last man to enter. He slid the door shut and nodded. "Warm her up." Beside the driver, Garth could not see the others, nor could he hear their conversation as the motors coughed and snarled into life. The truck-cat lurched forward on her caterpillar treads. The pilot looked inquiringly at Garth. "Where'll I head? West? What about these quicksands I've been hearing about?" "Steer for that mountain peak 'way over there," Garth told him. "It's easy to see the sink-holes. They're big grey patches on the sand, with no snow on 'em." The roar of the engine died into a monotonous murmur. It was possible to hear the conversation in the rear of the compartment. Commander Benson was talking. "--atomic power. It must have been that; there's no other answer. All we need to know is the nature of the booster charge." "I don't get it," Paula said. "Booster charge?"