security of the sphere-ship to come out here in the black night without decent reason? Or was it as some forgotten poet had said in a line of verse that he remembered--"For each man kills the thing he loves...." He cursed aloud. The night dragged on, with Boone cradling the girl in his arms. There were no more words between them. Then pale light came, filtered and dim within the grey translucence of the bubble. Eileen roused, suddenly wild-eyed and rigid. "Fred--" "Easy, girl. We're still inside the bubble." And then, to soothe her: "Don't worry. They wouldn't have taken the trouble to make us prisoners if they'd planned to kill us right away." She didn't answer. Wearily, Boone got up and started towards the shell's closest wall. But as he did so, the ground seemed to come alive beneath his feet. Crackling and crumbling it tilted so sharply that he was pitched from his feet. Then earth and flower-sod alike were sliding. Loose loam cascaded over Boone. Desperately, he tried to find Eileen amid the welter. "Here, Fred! Behind you!" Floundering, Boone craned to see her. She stood close to the shell's wall, braced against it. Then another tremor threw him flat; half-buried him. Clawing, cursing, he wallowed towards the girl. She darted forward in the same instant. Her hand locked on his. With a final effort he shook free of the clods and lurched panting to a place at the wall beside her. Another jolt. Again the earth slipped from beneath his feet. Yet now, since he had the wall to brace him, the surge of movement did not fell him. Then it dawned on him that the shell itself was sliding, sliding upwards! It was Eileen who gave the answer: "Lean back, Fred! The bubble's rolling, that's all. The dirt keeps sliding forward." Strangely, her voice was steady now; calm, almost. After that, there was no more time for talking. Faster and faster, the grey sphere careened onward, bumping and bouncing. A dozen times, one or the other of them fell. But as long as they held their places against the rear wall, the earth and clods spilled away from them, so that with sweat and scrambling they managed each time to regain their footing. Then, at long last, the strange globe slowed and changed direction. The surface beneath it seemed smoother now, and the bubble moved in arcs and curves. Shadows fell across it. The light grew dim, then faded altogether. More movement, through long lanes of utter darkness. Strange sounds, faint whispers in the stillness. Then, abruptly, light again--a blaze of it, dazzling and incandescent. The bubble halted. A crash of silent thunder, more felt than heard. Its impact pitched Boone and Eileen forward into the dirt. The globe split into segments like a quartered orange. Half-stunned, they stared about. It was a chamber such as Boone had 

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