“It flashed there suddenly,” echoed Saxe. “The sky cleared shortly after you turned in and we were star gaping when that thing burst into view like a meteor.” I knew it wasn’t a star, but kept quiet. To air opinions is the worst policy. I never make a noise unless invited. We examined the great light through the telescope. Saunders, disappointed and perplexed, at last admitted it was not a star, and he’d be d——d if he could make out what it was. Through the telescope the “star” had curious-shaped shadows surrounding it, which served to puzzle us more. Saxe. said it looked like the search-light of the lost _Propellier_. Sheldon snickered, and suggested it was a signal from the Relief Expedition. The Pole was still to be discovered, and we were lost wandering around our own side of the earth. Sporty old Saxe. nodded approval. “Quite right,” he replied. “I agree with you. That light up there is a signal of some sort, possibly of searchers. But we’ve crossed the Pole all right, yet of late I’ve been thinking if we could discover a new route it would be wise to turn back. Earth and the moon are similarly degenerating—we have discovered the dead portion of our globe. As provisions are giving out it occurs to me the situation is becoming embarrassing.” Sheldon looked uncomfortable and contrite, death was preferable to him than turning back without discovering his fresh water ocean. Saxe. nagged him unmercifully, but eventually they shook hands, then again we turned our attention to the fiery globe above. While we indulged in side arguments Saunders had been intently studying the great light, but could give no satisfactory explanation as to its business up among the stars. Saxe. suggested we signal to it and hurriedly began searching among the storage, at last finding, packed near the roof, a narrow, oblong box, containing rockets, which had been secreted in our luggage as a joke. “FOR THE PURPOSE OF OCCASIONALLY LETTING THE RELIEF PARTY KNOW YOUR LOCATION” was written neatly on a card inside the box. “Old Jordan’s trick,” muttered Saxe., while I aired my suspicions that the powder had become damp or something equally mysterious had happened to it—there is always something wrong with rockets. Saxe. scowled, but signified his intention of sending up rockets just to see what effect they would have upon that red globe. “For,” he concluded, “it is not a star, nor a moon, nor a sun. It is nothing belonging to the heavens.”