columns, hoariest monsters of all, columns of strange, iridescent beauty.

Once they passed a pit so deep, so dark, that even the skipper's probing beam could not penetrate its majestic depths. From somewhere far below came the whispering surge of churned water; in the light of the flash there seemed to hover above the rim of this chasm a faint, white, wraithly film. Lane frowned, unscrewed his face-port for an instant, sniffed, and hastily ducked back into the bulger.

"Ammonia," he said. "I thought as much. Keep your bulger-ports closed. Venus caves aren't Earth caves. Queer things here. No telling what we'll bump into."

He didn't mention the all-too-obvious fact that so far they had not "bumped into" that thing which they sought. A fuel supply, a water supply, signs of an underground grotto wherein might be found food. Nor had their winding way at any time moved them toward the surface, toward a possible second exit from the caverns. Their movement was ever down, deeper into the bowels of this weird, faery wonderland.

Once, for a heart-stopping moment, they thought they had found their desire. Rounding a bend, they came upon a cavern alive with color; towering vines and trees laden with great clusters of grapes; bushes aflower with myriads of gorgeous buds. Dorothy sprang forward with a cry of joy—but when she touched one of the mock roses it shattered to fine, white, powdery snow; upon investigation the trees, the vines and "grapes" turned out to be of the same, perishable nature.

And Tim remembered their name. "Oulopholites," he said. "Sulphate of magnesia and gypsum. Mother Nature does repeat herself, you see. She uses the same forms, but these are lifeless mimicry." And he looked at his watch. "Guess we'd better turn back, eh, skipper? We've been two hours on the prowl, and there doesn't seem to be anything in this direction. Shall we go back and try another corridor?"

Lane nodded slowly.

"I suppose so. But—Oh, while we're this far, we might as well peek into that next cavern. Won't take but a minute. And if there's nothing there—"

The words died on his lips. As he spoke them, they had moved through a short archway; the yellow circle of his flashlight had swung about a cavern larger than any in which they had yet stood. The floor of this cavern sloped sharply downward, narrowing into a funnel. And at the end of that funnel....

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