She found herself panting, and tried to control her bosom in the belief that, by so doing, she could economize the breath of life. Fifty minutes had now been consumed since she had left the Ring. Perhaps it was only a short distance away--just there, or there--its beckoning tripod hidden from her feverish gaze by the moon's curvature. Only ten minutes left of life! How should she spend them? In vain rushes for escape, like a dying bull? That would be fruitless. Better to remain where her friends might perchance see her through their glasses. The valve chirruped almost inaudibly. Only a few minutes more--eight--seven! She must signal, wave something--her handkerchief! Mechanically she felt for her pocket! Only the hard surface of the vacuum armor. She stood upon the block of burnt porphyritic rock and waved her arms wildly. These leprous cliffs, these whitened ridges were like a charnel-house of white bones--her graveyard! The pinnacles were waving back at her. She was dying! Was she already dead, perhaps? Had her soul escaped through the valve, and was it now hovering over that grotesquely clad thing that had been she? The woman who died on the moon! The lady in the moon! Where had the lady come from? In a flying machine. The valve gave a last flutter, and her vision clouded--brightened--glowed--until it almost blinded her. With a stifled cry, she found herself on her feet, staring at a dazzling trail of fire shooting into the black background of the sky. The Ring! It rose like a rocket just in front of her--its sides gleaming like molten metal toward and into the zenith--hesitated, hovered for a moment above her head, and dropped swiftly downward toward her. Hardly conscious of the action, she thrust the camera toward it and pressed the bulb--obtaining the only photograph showing the Ring in actual flight. She had no recollection of taking the picture, and sometimes she is almost induced to believe that it was the result of some unearthly agency--a Selenite "control"--sending through her a natural demonstration and message to the inhabitants of the earth of conditions on the moon with proof, otherwise unobtainable, that the Ring had been there. For who shall say in what form the ultimate evolution of man shall appear? And is it not at least conceivable that the superman or supermind may dwell, a pure spirit, upon the moon--that there hovers among those colossal ruins of what was once a planet teeming with life a soul?