"Another night in this damned desert," Bradford groaned. "At least we may be able to get a fire going with this brush--and a real swallow of water apiece. I hope that stuff we saw out there wasn't a mirage," he added disconsolately. "Not that--that was real honest-to-God water. Wish I'd brought my duck gun. These damn supply sergeants never do send out the right equipment." Towards dusk they scooped out a shallow hole in the sand and roofed it with green branches. "With our luck this stuff will probably turn out to be poison ivy," Canham predicted gloomily. "Join me in my thatched hut, oh beauteous one--and look out for sandburs." They slept fitfully, shivering through the long night hours. Bradford announced that this was undoubtedly the North Pole and they had arrived at the beginning of the six months night. With the first of the thin, cheerless rays of the distant sun, they clambered out of their cramped sleeping place, some of yesterday's enthusiasm waning as they stumbled about, relaxing stiffened muscles. Vaguely uneasy and depressed they started out; the very nearness of their goal somehow seemed to make their chances of reaching it doubly unsure. Afternoon brought them to the edge of the marshy area; they halted, surveying it doubtfully. Any such region on Earth would have been busy with life--frogs croaking on lily pads, water rats and fish making small plopping sounds in the water, tall reeds swaying. Here there was nothing that breathed of warm-blooded life. Only the shallow pools lying stagnant, reflecting stubby water-grasses, dotted here and there with small mounds growing a stunted bush or two. Canham shivered suddenly. "This is more dead than a cypress swamp. How I'd love to see a little old cottonmouth rearing his ugly head out of that puddle." Bradford shifted his shoulders uneasily. "Well, here goes! Shall we circle around a bit to see if there's a dryer path?" * * * * * An hour's walking brought no change; always before them lay the silent marsh, inimical in its unending desolation. And beyond it, tantalizingly green, lay the only growing things on Mars. With some difficulty they managed to find a branch apiece long enough for a probing pole and started out reluctantly, wincing as their feet sank deep in the fetid ooze. "These boots are damned heavy," Bradford remarked doubtfully. "You take yours off if you want to," Canham returned emphatically. "I'm damned if I'm going to step on some slimy, poisonous species of fauna in my bare feet." They forged ahead doggedly, tapping with their poles, making for a stunted shrub lifting itself above the rest. Bradford, slightly in the lead, whirled as Canham gave a stifled yelp and hauled himself up on the mound, looking slightly green. "Felt like a whale turned under my foot," he panted. "Let's get out of this so I can be sick--" Foot by foot, they heaved and plunged their way through the relentless sucking mire.