Overhead, the scattered lights which gave a faint illumination to the network of girders, were casting weird, swaying shadows, as they did after every lurch of the sphere. It was such a lurch, Marlin realized, that probably woke him. The floor, he noticed, had returned more nearly to level. Maw Barstow had spread her pallet across the bare opening of the outlaw's room, and lay there like a watchdog--anything but a lovely sight with her upturned face and open mouth. She was making hard work of sleep and did not stir when Marlin stepped over her and knelt beside the suffering figure inside. A rag was immersed in a pan of water at the side of the pallet. Surmising its purpose, he squeezed a little between the feverish lips and then wiped off the drawn face. The muddy stuff of the poultice had oozed out around the neck wound. Marlin wiped some of it away and adjusted the bandage, then pulled down the cover to see if other bandages needed similar attention. The outlaw, though wiry, seemed to have a rather frail physique. His face was smooth and boylike, almost sensitive, despite the hard set of the mouth. A tight bandage swathed the chest, but as Marlin's fingers felt along its edge he was struck by the soft, pliable texture of the flesh beneath. For a minute, he paused, considering the faintly moaning figure. For some strange reason, chills raced up his spine. Deliberately, he drew down the cover, until he could view the outstretched body. Then, very carefully, he restored the blanket to its place, tucking it carefully around the sleeping figure. The figure that was not a man--but a girl ... When he rose to leave a moment later, Pearl was framed in the doorway, her lips parted in the enigmatic smile which belied the innocent vacuity of her eyes. Marlin stepped over Maw Barstow's sleeping body and took the white-gowned girl gently by the arm. "Better get back to your covers," he advised; then, softly: "Girl, oh girl! Maybe you've got something after all!" * * * * * When Marlin next awakened, it was to the rude shock of rough hands shaking him excitedly. He struggled up, his first impulse to strike out in resentment. It was DuChane. "Wake up, Dave! For God's sake, wake up! I've got something to show you!" Still half asleep, Marlin followed the other toward the ladder which led to the scaffold by which they had first entered. He felt strangely lightheaded, nauseated, wobbly on his feet, and his muscles ached. Unsteadily, he followed the other up to the scaffold. DuChane applied his eye to the periscope, then gestured. "Look!" His voice was scarcely more than a whisper. Marlin crouched before the eyepiece. He peered through it with vague bewilderment at first, then with growing interest--concern--amazement. He spoke at last--His voice strained and unfamiliar. "_There's nothing out there! No ground--no hillside--no crater--no scaffolding--nothing! Nothing but stars. Stars and blackness._"