"Yes!" he exclaimed, smiling at the amazement on our faces, "he has a cruiser here. That's what I didn't want you to know until the last moment, for there is a difficulty. There are seven of us here, and the cruiser will accommodate only five at the most; it will take five across to Callisto, and there I can make connections that will mean safety for us." * * * * * We looked blankly around at each other, and no man knew what the other was thinking. McGowan smiled in a way I did not like, as if he somehow knew which five it would be. "Furthermore," he went on, "there will soon be eight of us. For now Elson's got to come along." "Elson!" exclaimed a chorus of voices, mine among them. "Yes." McGowan's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "I haven't steered you wrong yet, have I? I've worked out this entire plan, so believe me when I say that Elson is very necessary to our endeavor." I thought of Elson, and wondered why he was necessary. He, to put it cruelly, was the least among us; the butt of all our jokes; for even hopeless men such as we must sometimes have amusement. Elson had been here probably as long as McGowan, but he had suffered much more. Elson always seemed to suffer Marnick's wrath when the latter couldn't decide upon a more suitable victim. Elson was twisted and misshapen now, the result of a fall through the shaft, so I had heard; and he was blank-eyed and feeble-witted. Now McGowan sent for him, and he came shuffling into our cave with a bewildered look. Tersely McGowan explained the situation. Elson smiled crookedly; he had always had a special fondness for McGowan, and obeyed him implicitly in everything. We began the climb. An hour later we stood panting but unbowed upon the surface, staring at stars most of us had not seen in years! We were eight men, determined, but armed only with the short metal hook we had used for digging out the rock. McGowan carried it. He gestured with it to the left, as he whispered: "This way. We must be about a mile from the ravine where Marnick's located. Stay in sight of each other now, and watch your step--no noise!" The terrain was rocky and rough; the horizon of the tiny planet seemed very near, and curved sharply down. The night was pitch black and boundless, with only the pinpoints of stars to guide us. Hours later, it seemed, we glimpsed another pinpoint of light that was not a star. It was too low against the blackness for that; we knew it was a light from Marnick's abode, at the entrance of a rocky little canyon perhaps a quarter of a mile away. We proceeded with infinite caution.