Then, as they went forward, they straightened against the impact. Through the face-plate of his armor, dimmed by the many-layered filters, Kellard saw the column of flame ahead. It was a hundred feet high now, and growing higher, and though there was no air-borne sound on this almost airless world, the sound of it came through the rocks and the soles of their feet, a throbbing and roaring that quivered through all their bodies. * * * * * They reached the tumbled rocks, and stopped. And now the fire-fountain was so lofty that they had to lean back their heads to look at its topmost crest. Some unthinkable diastole and systole of the fiery planet was at work, and this periodic geyser of flame was its result. The rocks shook and roared, and the fires raged higher, and Kellard thought again, what devil is in the blood of our race that drives us to places like this where we should not be? "I told you," he said to Halfrich, "Just a blowhole, that's all." "The blips on the record moved," said Halfrich. "There was more than this." "Look around you!" cried Kellard desperately. "Do you see anything moving, anything that _could_ move? You were wrong, Halfrich. Do you have to keep us here until we all die, because you can't admit you're wrong?" Halfrich hesitated. "I wasn't wrong. You're still lying. But we'll go back to the ship and wait." They turned their backs on the fire-fountain, and Kellard felt the sweat pouring on his forehead. It hadn't happened this time, and they couldn't wait forever, they would have to go away and-- Morgenson's voice chattered in their ears. "Blips showing, coming--" And then he suddenly yelled, "I see them! They--" Halfrich swung around with ponderous swiftness. There was nothing between them and the fire-fountain, nothing around the spouting flames. "Above you, coming down!" shouted Morgenson. "My God, what--?" Kellard slowly raised his head. Because he knew what to look for, he saw them while Halfrich was still gazing around searching. They came flashing down out of the sky. There were four of them this time--no, five. They were like five individual swirls of shining light, so bright that the sun-bleached heavens seemed to darken around them. Halfrich said bewilderedly, "I don't see--" Kellard pointed upward. "There." "Those flakes of flame?" "Not flakes of flame," said Kellard. "They are the children of the stars." Halfrich went rigid, staring upward. And now Kellard knew that there was no more hope. No hope at all. * * * * * The five bright things had flashed down toward the great fire-fountain. They plunged into it, out of it, climbed swift as the eye could follow, racing up its mighty geyser, frolicking in it joyously. The fountain raved higher and the five sped up and whirled and danced upon its rising plume, and Kellard thought that they were laughing.