He could not get away. It was dangerous to help him, lest another avalanche be started. McCauley, listening, sweated as he glanced at a clock. But Holmes was helping Kent. Later--much later--he heard clatterings and Kent's voice said snappishly: "Well, here's Repeater One. McCauley said to come here. What do we do now? I've air for fifteen minutes more." Holmes tried to speak, but couldn't. There were clankings. "Doggone you," Kent snarled shrilly, "you cheated on the air! You didn't split even! Cripes!" Then he panted, and suddenly there was a hissing sound, and gasps. McCauley's hands were tightly clenched as the sounds came to him from both faraway space-suit microphones. But at the hissing sound he relaxed. A little later Holmes' voice came, astonished. "That was it! He said that the relay here was exactly like the relay at Repeater Two. It's a sledge, and it was brought here by two men--and it has air tanks that they breathed from while they traveled! Kent, you hooked me to the air. The pressure's way up! We can refill our suit tanks and the spare!" Kent said waspishly: "So I noticed. Get your tank full-up and let me have my share.... McCauley said to call him from here if we needed to. What say?" "McCauley can go to blazes!" rumbled Holmes. "It's not two hours from here to the base. If we fill up on air, we can get there before sunset. To heck with McCauley!" In the commanding officer's cubbyhole at Grimaldi Base, McCauley relaxed again in his chair. His expression went from strain to contentment. He reached over and flipped off the receiver. * * * * * The deep, dark, abysmally black night had fallen. Low down at the western horizon Earth hung, blue-green and glamorous, just above the crests of many ring mountains. It was a little past first quarter, and it gave only the faintest of light to the tortured and splintered rock formations outside Grimaldi Base. When Earth was full, there would be bright earthlight on the moon, and the moon's surface would look much stranger than any painter of fantastic pictures could imagine. Inside the base, McCauley was going toward his office when a hand touched his arm. It was Kent. He looked forbidding and grim. "I'd like to speak to you, sir," he said formidably. McCauley waved him into the tiny office and closed the door. "What's it all about?" he asked. He touched a switch and a desk light glowed. He touched another, but nothing in particular seemed to happen. "I've forgotten," he said mildly, "any unpleasant things I may have felt it necessary to say a few hours ago." "It's Holmes, sir," said Kent, his lips tightly pressed together. "He didn't play fair, sir. When we split that extra air tank he cheated on it. He gave me more than he took himself. And when I was stuck with an avalanche ready to finish me any second, he...." His voice rose shrilly. He complained bitterly that Holmes had saved his life at least four times.