But once he landed hard, and he rested a moment, panting. He moved his feet and they slopped about, like on a muddy field. He reached down carefully. One wrong move would upset his equilibrium and he'd go shooting off into the air. He touched the ground, and it was wet. He pushed, and he felt his hand sinking in, slowly. Fascinated, he pushed again. His hand disappeared to the wrist. Something was trying to suck him down further, and he tugged. He pulled his hand out with a loud slopping sound, and instinctively he jumped away. He soared into the air again, and when he came down, it was only for a moment--just long enough to leap. The ground was spongy. And when he was standing there, with his hand immersed to the wrist, the soft spongy stuff had been pulsing, throbbing. Almost as if it were alive.... His mind did not tackle the problem further. Ahead he saw Johnny--now it was more than his imagination; Johnny was there, leaping into the air ahead of him. Burt reached the apex of his flight, cupped his hands and yelled through them: "Johnny! Johnny!" "Hi, pop!" The voice came back faintly, playfully. "Johnny, when you touch ground next time, turn that switch to the left." "Naa--I'm having fun." "When I get you, Johnny...." "Aw, okay. Kill joy. What a worry wart." Apparently, Johnny had turned on his equalizer. Burt saw him on the ground, waiting, and three big leaps brought him there. Now Johnny was crying. "What the devil are you crying for? You've jumped around enough--" "Pop, please. I'm sorry. Get me outa here!" Johnny was stuck. He was in the spongy ground, up to his ankles. The stuff sucked around his shins, drawing him down further every second, like quicksand. Burt could feel it pulsing as he landed, but it did not suck him in. With the equalizer off, he weighed much less than Johnny did, and now he was tugging at the boy, pulling at his shoulders, grabbing him under the armpits and tugging, tugging.... Johnny came loose suddenly, and Burt soared with him several feet into the air. On the way up, he switched the boy's equalizer off again, and Johnny said: "You just told me not to, now you do it yourself. What a pop." Johnny was spoiled and Johnny was precocious, but Burt thought of neither now. Johnny was nothing more than a little bundle which he had to get back to the spaceship. And then they had to leave, all four of them. The spaceship ... Marcia did not know how to pilot it, she couldn't lift it off the ground. And the sucking, spongy stuff might engulf the ship, take it down into some unknown womb of the world. They'd be marooned. Marcia and Joan-- All of them.