With a feeling of utter helplessness, Bennie returned to Rhoda, who was lying on the floor with her face pressed against the glass, and threw himself at her side; and she clung to him, like a terrified child, as together they looked down fearfully through the deadlight. The yellow surface of the moon, gleaming like a mass of jewels, was rushing up at them with sickening velocity. A few seconds more, and--He turned away from the window. "It's all up," he choked. "Good-by, Burke!" Burke, standing rigid at the control, made no reply. "We're slowing up; we're slowing up," whispered Rhoda suddenly. "Look, Bennie! That crater below us! It's not getting any larger!" Bennie arose and framed the great circle of the crater in the rim of the deadlight. "You're right!" he yelled exultantly. "We're hovering! We can land! Burke, shut down the power quick, and stand by to pick up your moorings!" "I'm all ready," answered Burke, throwing over the rheostat that controlled the current. The Ring was hanging over a vast rocky plain, pockmarked with small craters, furrowed with crevasses, and bristling with jagged ridges and grotesque turrets and pinnacles. In the glare of the sun, it shone dazzlingly white--like snow--so that it hurt their eyes, and Rhoda was forced to turn hers away. "How high up are we?" inquired Bennie. "The manometer doesn't register," answered Burke. "There can't be any atmosphere. We won't be able to use it for landing--more's the pity! Just have to judge by appearances. I think we're hovering now--no--by George, we're _rising_ a little!" He advanced the lever of the rheostat another point. "_Now_ we're descending. This is about right, I reckon." Slowly the Ring dropped toward the surface of the plain. Immediately below them was a small forest of pinnacles. "For heaven's sake, keep away from that!" shouted Bennie. "If you land there, you'll spike the Ring on one of those things, just as if you were playing ringtoss. There's a good place--that round, level spot about three hundred yards to the left." "Trust me for a bull's-eye!" laughed Burke, slanting the tractor, and the ground slid slowly off to one side until they were clear of danger and over the smooth patch, which looked as if it had been made to order for their purposes. Up--up--nearer and nearer--came the lunar plain. The helium ray was now playing directly upon its surface, and throwing up great clouds of white dust, which, as the Ring sank closer to the ground, rose and completely enveloped it. Sight was no longer possible. They could not be more than two hundred feet above the surface. Beneath and above them, they could see only whirling clouds of white powder. "Here goes for luck!" announced Burke, pulling back the lever.