Lost on the Moon, Roy Rockwood [best reads of all time .txt] 📗

CHAPTER XXIV

DESOLATE WANDERINGS

 

For a moment the three stood helplessly there and stared at each other.

They could scarcely comprehend their situation at first. Then, with a

glance at the cold and quiet scene all about them, a look up at the

sun, which was the only cheerful object in the whole landscape, Jack

observed: “Oh, I say, come on now, don’t let’s give up this way! We

have only taken a wrong turn, and I’ll wager that the projectile will

be just around the corner. Come on,” and he started off.

 

“Yes,” said Mark, “that’s the trouble. There are so many corners, and

we have taken so many wrong turns, that we’re all confused. I think the

best thing to do will be to stay here a while and pull ourselves

together.”

 

“That’s right,” spoke old Andy. “Many a time in the woods I’ve got all

confused-like, and then I’d sit down and think, and I’d get on the

right path in a few minutes after.”

 

“The trouble here is,” said Jack, “that there are no woods. If there

were we might know how to get out of them. But think of it! Lost on

the moon, in the midst of a whole lot of queer mountain peaks, and big

holes that would hold half a dozen cities of the United States at the

same time, and never know it! This is a fearful place to be lost in!”

 

“I’m not going to admit that we’re lost,” declared Mark stoutly.

 

“Hu! You’re like the Indian,” spoke Jack. “The Indian who got lost in

the woods. He insisted that it wasn’t he who was lost, that it was his

wigwam that couldn’t be found. He knew where he himself was all the

while. That’s our case, I suppose. We’re here, but the projectile is

lost.”

 

“Ha! ha!” laughed Andy Sudds. “That’s a pretty good joke!”

 

“But not being able to find the projectile is no joke,” went on Mark,

who always took matters more seriously than did his chum. “What are we

going to do?” he added. “We can’t stay here like this.”

 

“Maybe we’ll have to,” declared Jack. “We certainly can’t get off the

moon—at least, not until we reach the projectile, and I’d like to

discover those diamonds before we go back.”

 

“Hu! Those diamonds!” exploded Mark. “I think this whole thing is a

wild-goose chase, anyhow! If it hadn’t been for those diamonds we

wouldn’t have come to the moon. I don’t believe there are any diamonds

here, anyhow.”

 

“Well, I can’t prove it to you now, but I will before we get back,”

asserted Jack. “We’ll be wearing diamonds, as the song says.”

 

“Diamonds aren’t going to keep us warm when we’re freezing,” went on

Mark, who seemed bound to look on the dark side, “and we can’t eat ‘em

when we’re hungry. A lot of good they’ll do us if we do find them!”

 

“Oh, cheer up!” suggested Jack cheerfully. “And, speaking of eating,

what’s the matter with having some lunch? What did we bring it along

for if we’re not going to eat? Let’s begin.”

 

His good spirits were contagious, not that Andy needed any special

cheering up, but Mark did. In a few minutes they were seated on some

rugged rocks, and, with their life-torches stuck in cracks, so that the

perforated metal boxes of chemicals would be on a level with their

faces, they opened the baskets they had been fore-sighted enough to

bring with them.

 

“Why, I feel better already,” asserted Jack, as he munched some

sandwiches which Washington White had made. “As soon as we’ve finished

we’ll have another hunt for the projectile, and I’ll wager that we’ll

find it.”

 

“I wouldn’t finish if I were you,” suggested Andy, who was eating

sparingly.

 

“Finish what?” asked Jack.

 

“All your lunch. You see,” the old hunter went on, “we may find the

projectile, and, again, we may not. I’m inclined to think we’re not so

very far from it, but we may be some time locating it in among all

these peaks and craters. So it will be the best plan to save some of

our lunch and drinking water until—well, until we’re hungry again,”

and he carefully put back into his basket the remains of the food.

 

“You don’t mean to say you think we’ll be all day finding the

Annihilator, do you?”

 

Jack paused, with a sandwich half way to his mouth as he asked this

question.

 

“Well, it’s best to be on the safe side,” spoke Andy guardedly. “We may

find it, and, again, we may not. Save your powder against the time of

need, I say—by powder meaning victuals and drink. We can’t drop in a

restaurant up here, and I don’t see much game to shoot, and I should

hate to eat such fodder as this,” and he poked with his foot some

sickly green vines, growing on the ground.

 

The boys’ faces, which had become more cheerful, assumed a serious

look. Jack stopped eating at once and placed back in the basket his

remaining sandwiches. He also corked up the bottle of water, which was

kept from freezing by means of a fur pouch in which it was carried.

 

“If there’s a possibility of being lost some time,” spoke Mark, “we’d

better figure out just how long our food will last,” and he examined

the contents of his basket.

 

Fortunately Washington White, with a knowledge of the appetites of the

chums, had filled the baskets with lavish hands. There was, they found,

food enough to last them three days, if they ate sparingly, and there

was enough water for half that time, providing they only took small

sips when thirsty. But they had noticed, in one or two places, little

pools of liquid, which they had not tasted, but which might prove to be

drinking water. Certainly they would need more if they were destined to

remain away from the projectile for very long.

 

“Well, then,” observed Mark, when the food calculation was over, “it

appears that we can remain lost for about three days, at the most.”

 

“Oh, but we’ll be back home—I mean in the projectile—long before

that,” declared Jack.

 

“I wish I was sure of that,” murmured Andy with a dubious shake of his

head.

 

“Well, let’s move on again,” suggested Jack. “We feel better now, and

maybe we’ll have better luck.”

 

They started off, tramping over the rugged surface of the moon, while

the sun shone with tepid heat down on them. They had to go this way and

that to avoid the immense fissures in the ground or the yawning

craters, which loomed deep, and in awful silence, in their path.

Sometimes they climbed small mountains or crawled in and out of small

craters, slipping and stumbling.

 

They were not cold, for their fur garments kept them comfortably warm,

and there was no wind to make the freezing temperature search through

the crevices of their clothing. But it was the desolate silence, the

utter absence of any form of life save the pale green vegetation that

got on their nerves. It was like being in a dead world—on a planet

that seemed about to dissolve into space.

 

They began their further search for the projectile with hope in their

hearts, but this gradually gave way to despair as they wandered on over

the desolate surface, and saw nothing but the same rugged peaks, the

same yawning caverns and the innumerable craters, large and small.

 

On they wandered, looking on all sides for the missing projectile, but

they had no glimpse of it. Even climbing to one of the high peaks,

whence they had a view of the surrounding country, afforded them no

trace of the Annihilator, They were utterly lost.

 

Old Andy, who, by reason of his experience as a trapper and hunter, had

taken the lead, came to a halt. He looked around helplessly. He did not

know what to do.

 

“Well, boys,” he remarked at length, “I don’t like to say it, but I

can’t seem to get anywhere. I give up.”

 

“Give up?” murmured Jack, in blank dismay.

 

“Yes, for the time being,” said the old man. “I’m all played out. I

guess we all are. We must have a rest. Here’s a sort of cave. Let’s

crawl in and have a sleep. Then maybe we can do something to-morrow—

no, not to-morrow, for they don’t have that on the moon, where the day

is fourteen days long—but after we sleep we may be able to find our

way back. Anyhow, I’ve got to get some sleep,” and without another word

the old hunter went into the cave, and, fixing his life-torch near his

head, where the fumes from it would dissipate the poisonous gases of

the moon, he closed his eyes, and was soon in slumber.

 

“I—I guess we’d better do the same,” said Jack, and Mark nodded. They

were both sick at heart.