There are things which one sometimes can remember as being vague, unimportant impressions. Later, in the light of after events, they assume importance and one may wonder how they were overlooked at the time. The tug at my shoelace was such a one. And now, as I fell dizzily upon the stone slab, there came another. The feeling of something crawling upon me. As though an insect brushed my bare shoulder. I thought nothing of it at the time, but later I was to recall it clearly. I heard a booming voice; father's voice. "Oh Frank--have I hurt you?" He had not. But I saw his gigantic hand and arm coming up more slowly with Alt. I got to my feet, and looked up. Father's chest and head towered above me. I shouted, "No, you did not hurt me. We're all right." Again Alt plucked at me. "He waited too long! hurry--run!" We were on a naked expanse of uneven gray rock. It was flooded with yellow-white light. I saw, a few hundred feet away, a jagged mound of rock, large as a house. It was expanding, and drawing away from us. Alt was running, and I ran after him. The expanding ground swayed beneath me. Alt called back: "We've got to climb it--and it is getting so large--" And so far away! I thought that we could not get there over the shifting, expanding ground. But we made it. The rock was a jagged, volcanic-looking mound when we reached it. Fifty feet high, at least. I followed Alt as he climbed up its precipitous slope. I was close under him; and suddenly I felt that if he were tricking me he had a perfect opportunity to turn and fling me backward. "Wait a moment, Alt--let me get past you." He stopped, and I led him to the summit. It was a long climb. We stood at last upon a rocky peak--in a yellow sunlight glare. Far down--it seemed five hundred feet now, at least--a great gray plain spread off into the distance. I could see a void off there--the edge of the granite slab. And vague towering shadows of form--father and Foley perhaps. The rocks about us were still expanding with their crawling movement. A summit here, of tumbled naked crags. Fairly near at hand I saw a black hole--a pit. Alt led me to it. It was, by the time we got there, an orifice a hundred feet across. A pit of dense blackness, with perfectly smooth, almost vertical sides. "We descend into that," said Alt. My mind flung back. Dianne had used those same words, that night on Bird's Nest Island. This then, was the pin-point hole at the top of the rock fragment. I stood with Alt, waiting. I was winded from the run, and the climb. My belts--the drugs--and the weapons--were awkward carrying. Alt said, "If we had started just a little sooner, that climb would have been easy. We were too small. You see what I mean, using judgment in the trip?"