Presently they stood upon the edge of something black and yawning, but there was still no sign of the exile, who seemed, like Elijah, to have been called directly to his Maker without residue. Beyond the gulf, however, Mr. Wordsley had glimpsed a ragged aperture filled with the purest light. It seemed inconceivable to him--attracted as he had always been by radiance--that this should be inaccessible. Accordingly, he lay down upon his belly and stretched his hand as far down as he could reach. His fingers brushed a level surface which appeared to extend outwards for two or three feet. Gingerly he lowered himself to this ledge and began to feel his way along the wall. Nor was he greatly surprised (for hardly anything surprised Mr. Wordsley any more) that it neatly circumnavigated the pit and deposited him safely upon the other side, where he quickly groped toward the mouth of the cavern and stood gazing out upon a scene that was breathtaking. From this vantage the easily accessible slope led to the foot of the plateau. Beyond lay the grandeur of Avis Solis. Captain DeCastros was soon beside him. "A very clever trick, that ledge," he said. "Malmsworth thinks to elude us, but he never shall, eh, Mr. Wordsley?" There were tears of frustration in his eyes. It embarrassed Mr. Wordsley, who could only point to the pall of gleaming dust where their ship had lain, and to the silver needle which glinted for a moment in the sky and was gone. "Malmsworth would not do that to me," Captain DeCastros said. But he had. * * * * * "We may be here quite a long while," Mr. Wordsley said, and could not contrive to sound downhearted about it. But Captain DeCastros had already turned away and was feeling his way back along the ledge. Mr. Wordsley waited just a moment longer; then he took from his pocket a heavy object and dropped it upon the slope and it rolled over and over, down and down, until its metallic sheen was lost in that superior glare. It was a spare irmium alloy plug. He made his way back to the water-maker. They would have to take good care of it from now on. He was not concerned with the basin. However, in the soft, damp sand beside the basin, plainly imprinted there, as if someone's raiding party had interrupted _someone's_ bathing party, there remained a single, small and dainty footprint. One could almost imagine that a faint breath of perfume still lingered upon the sheltered air of the rift, but, of course, only things which glittered interested Mr. Wordsley. THE END Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ September 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.