"We'll soon find out." Barry's hand dug at the wall, scooping away the soft dirt. "Tell the boys to start digging. But post a couple up the tunnel in both directions, so we won't be surprised." Four Martians and Barry Williams dug at the wall with cupped hands. It was hot, dirty work in the heavy air of the Crypt. Sweat beaded their faces. Arms ached after the first few minutes. Barry did not slacken his pace, and the others stayed with him. At last, the Earthman gave a cry of triumph. "It isn't thick! See, the dirt is crumbling away from us now--falling on the other side." The vigor of their attack redoubled. Hearing the cries, the Martians posted down the tunnel came running to help. Deisanocta stepped closer, her face radiant. Barry threw her a glance, and his heart noted the way her black hair threw back highlights of the walls' radiance. His hand shot out again at the wall, viciously, and the last grains of dirt fell inward. Light showed through. Beside him, the others worked frantically. In seconds, the opening was large enough for one of them to pass through. "Deisanocta," Barry Williams gasped. "Go in. I'll be right behind you." The rest crowded behind, and all but the unconscious old Martian were soon on the other side. They stared open-mouthed, incredulously at the sight that met them. It was a great room into which they'd made their way, the walls luminous, and stretching off almost out of view. There were no dead here. Except for one object, the vast chamber was empty. That object itself was big, black, rearing upward above them halfway to the distant roof. "A spaceship!" cried Deisanocta. "The great-grandfather of all space ships," added Barry. "Look at the size of it, the diameter of those rocket tubes! Used a poor fuel, inefficiently. But they made it. Crashed through the roof of this place. Look at the dark patch overhead, where sand filled in a gap." "'Justice from the Crypt'," murmured the girl. "I think I--" "So do I," rapped Barry. "Come on, you and I are going inside. Tell the others to guard this opening!" Hand-in-hand, the two of them passed through a yawning port. Beneath their feet, the ramp was solid. Metal did not corrode, in this dry atmosphere. The old ship had not deteriorated in its years here. Barry Williams and the girl passed down a long passage, unlit except for the faint radioactive radiance that made its way in through smaller portholes. They came to a door, which would not yield to Barry's efforts. "Locked," he said. "We can't stop for that." His heat ray came out. The beam played against the lock until the metal glowed and ran. Barry kicked at the bottom of the door where the metal was cooler. It swung inward. "It's the control room," Barry said as their eyes slowly adjusted themselves to the even dimmer light of the room.