Sam was silent. He had pulled out his battered pipe and filled it absently with illegal tobacco. He stood puffing on it steadily, with the dim glow coming and going on his tanned face as he drew. Presently he spoke very softly: "Mel, we can go in the Omnimobile to see about it." "Dive into the Deep!" "We could do it." "Ten miles of water! Good Lord! That would crush us like--like--" "I think the machine would stand it." "But what could we do?" "We don't know until we know what needs to be done." "It means death!" I whispered hoarsely. "And the Green Girl! When I am dead I may dream of her no more! It may be that she lives only in my mind, and when I die--" Sam said nothing. He merely waited, puffing away, with his pipe smoke drifting out into the night. In a moment I had considered, and realized my selfishness. I thrust out my hand, and he gripped it firmly. "I knew you would see it, Mel!" he cried with a glad ring in his voice. "Whoever, and whatever they are, they haven't got us yet! We're still kicking!" "We start for the Mangar Deep--" "--At sunrise in the morning." We climbed down into the machine, and went together into the galley to fix supper. Sam got out his old music box and played through his ancient favorite selections, and then we went to our miniature staterooms. But I did not sleep soon that night. The Green Girl came to me in a fresh and vivid waking dream. She was, as ever, supremely, superbly beautiful, with dark curls, smiling red lips, and clear, sparkling violet eyes. I told her of the struggle I had had, and that I was resolved to set out upon the fateful cruise. And she seemed very happy, so I regretted my decision no longer. So, very happy, I fell asleep, and had dreams of the Green Girl that were dreams indeed. At dawn I was awakened by the rattle of pots and pans in the galley. I sprang out of my bunk, took an icy shower, and ran into the dining room where Sam had breakfast ready. The stores had been well selected, and Sam was a prince among chefs. Whatever our fate,
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