"All your lunch. You see," the old hunter went on, "we may find the projectile, and, again, we may not. I'm inclined to think we're not so very far from it, but we may be some time locating it in among all these peaks and craters. So it will be the best plan to save some of our lunch and drinking water until--well, until we're hungry again," and he carefully put back into his basket the remains of the food. "You don't mean to say you think we'll be all day finding the Annihilator, do you?" Jack paused, with a sandwich half way to his mouth as he asked this question. "Well, it's best to be on the safe side," spoke Andy guardedly. "We may find it, and, again, we may not. Save your powder against the time of need, I say--by powder meaning victuals and drink. We can't drop in a restaurant up here, and I don't see much game to shoot, and I should hate to eat such fodder as this," and he poked with his foot some sickly green vines, growing on the ground. The boys' faces, which had become more cheerful, assumed a serious look. Jack stopped eating at once and placed back in the basket his remaining sandwiches. He also corked up the bottle of water, which was kept from freezing by means of a fur pouch in which it was carried. "If there's a possibility of being lost some time," spoke Mark, "we'd better figure out just how long our food will last," and he examined the contents of his basket. Fortunately Washington White, with a knowledge of the appetites of the chums, had filled the baskets with lavish hands. There was, they found, food enough to last them three days, if they ate sparingly, and there was enough water for half that time, providing they only took small sips when thirsty. But they had noticed, in one or two places, little pools of liquid, which they had not tasted, but which might prove to be drinking water. Certainly they would need more if they were destined to remain away from the projectile for very long. "Well, then," observed Mark, when the food calculation was over, "it appears that we can remain lost for about three days, at the most." "Oh, but we'll be back home--I mean in the projectile--long before that," declared Jack. "I wish I was sure of that," murmured Andy with a dubious shake of his head. "Well, let's move on again," suggested Jack. "We feel better now, and maybe we'll have better luck." They started off, tramping over the rugged surface of the moon, while the sun shone with tepid heat down on them. They had to go this way and that to avoid the immense fissures in the ground or the yawning craters, which loomed deep, and in awful silence, in their path. Sometimes they climbed small mountains or crawled in and out of small craters, slipping and stumbling.