Three minutes. His arms were so numb it was occasionally difficult to tell for sure when they had reached the end of their swing. It would have been reassuring to be able to see them. He widened his eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to penetrate the dark, and momentarily he almost fancied he saw a dim haze about him. He thought of the dead man they had found in the pilot's seat. There were no limits to the fallacy of human vision, under emotional stress. Four minutes. If the original 20-minute period happened to be over and the others were aware of it, they made no sign. That would not be strange. Having agreed that Archer would make the first report, they would hesitate to venture any comment, for fear of dropping some kind of hint. Five minutes. Archer fumbled awkwardly for his watch. If all his estimates, pieced together, were correct, there should still be a minute to go. He was amazed to find that there was not. By leaning over backward in his guesses, he had actually managed to be conservative. The time was up--in fact, it was almost 15 seconds past. It was time to get the formalities over with and end this desperate game. "All right!" Archer said loudly, his voice cracking slightly. "It's time to report, and here's mine--" He paused briefly, then finished: "I see it." * * * * * It was now up to the others either to lie or to admit they saw it. It didn't particularly matter which, but Archer rather expected the truth. Evans was next. After a moment, the latter's voice came somewhat falteringly, but clearly enough: "I see it." Surprisingly, Stokely did not keep them waiting. His report came immediately, in a hoarse monotone: "I see it." _Now._ Archer's gaze swung back and forth between the two others during the space of a long breath. Their shadowy figures did not move, but stood irresolute. Archer exhaled with vast relief. "Okay, you fellows," he announced, "we've all got it. Here goes my injection." Watching Stokely carefully, he plucked the syringe from his belt with enormous caution, and forced his feeble right hand to drive the needle into his left forearm and press the plunger all the way. There was one slight advantage to the cold, after all--he hardly felt the perforation. He dared not pull up his shirt as yet. It could very easily have the effect of making him fade partially from Stokely's view, and might provoke the big man into blazing away at him. It was quite possible that Stokely would shoot anyhow, though under the circumstances his aim might not be at its best. "You lie!" Stokely said suddenly, as between clenched teeth. "The only way you could know about yourself would be if I didn't have it. Then you'd know where Evans must have seen it."