CHAPTER 13

Points of View

The light grew stronger as we advanced. Our tunnel was expanding into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of it. It was a grey, silvery light coming from above. In another moment we were beneath it. It came down through a narrow crack in the walls of the cavern, and as I stared up a drop of water fell upon my face.

"Cavor," I said, "if one of us lifts the other, he can reach that crack!"

"I'll lift you," he said, and immediately raised me as though I was a baby.

I thrust an arm into the crack, and found a little ledge by which I could hold. I pulled myself up by two fingers with scarcely an effort, though on earth I weigh twelve stone, and so got my feet on the narrow ledge. I stood up and searched up the rocks with my fingers; the crack broadened out upwardly. I pulled Cavor up after me, and started to climb farther.

For a few minutes I climbed steadily, and then I looked up again. The crack opened out steadily, and the light was brighter. Only—

It was not daylight after all!

In another moment I could see what it was, and at the sight I could have beaten my head against the rocks with disappointment. There was a sloping open space covered with a forest of little club-shaped fungi, each shining gloriously with that silvery light. I sprang among them, plucked up half a dozen and flung them against the rocks, and then sat down, laughing bitterly, as Cavor's face appeared.

"No need to hurry," I said, "sit down and make yourself at home."

"I thought it was daylight," he said.

"Daylight!" cried I. "Daybreak, sunset, clouds and windy skies! Shall we ever see such things again? Here we are in this beastly world with its inky ocean hidden in the blackness below, and all those things that are chasing us now, beastly men of leather—insect men. For all we know the whole planet is up and after us already. What are we to do? Where are we to go?"

"It was your fault," said Cavor.

"My fault!" I shouted. "Good Lord!"

"I had an idea!"

"Curse your ideas!"

"If we had refused to move they would have carried us over the bridge. They must have carried us from outside."

Suddenly I saw something that struck me.

"Cavor," I said, "these chains are of gold!"

He was thinking intently. He turned his head slowly and stared at me, and at the twisted chain about his right hand. "So they are," he said, "so they are." I sat for a moment puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed this, until I remembered the blue light in which we had been, and which had taken all the colour out of the metal. I started upon a train of thought that carried me far and wide. Gold—

Presently Cavor said, "It seems to me there are two courses open to us."

"Well?"

"Either we can make our way—fight our way if necessary—out to the exterior again, and then hunt for our sphere till we find it, or else—"

He paused. "Yes?" I said, though I knew what was coming.

"We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding with the minds of the people in the moon."

"So far as I'm concerned—it's the first."

"We cannot judge the Selenites by what we have seen of them. Their civilized world will be far below in the deep caverns about their sea. These Selenites we have seen may be only the cowboys and engine-tenders of the moon. If we could defend ourselves against these labourers, if we could hold out for a week or so, it is probable that the news of our appearance would reach the more intelligent parts—"

"How do you know that even the most intelligent will take an interest in us or in our world? I don't believe they'll even know we have a world. They never come out at night—they'd freeze if they did. They've probably never seen any heavenly body at all except the blazing sun. How are they to know there is another world? What does it matter to them if they do? Why should people living inside a planet trouble to observe the sky? Men wouldn't have done it except for the seasons and sailing ... 

"I tell you we've got into a fix. We've come unarmed, we've lost our sphere, we've got no food, we've shown ourselves to the Selenites, and made them think we are strange, strong, dangerous animals; and unless these Selenites are perfect fools, they'll hunt us till they find us and kill us, and that's the end of the matter."

"Go on."

"On the other hand, here's gold for anybody who cares to take it. If only we can get some of it back, if only we can find our sphere before they do and get back, we might put the thing on a sounder footing. We might come back in a bigger sphere with guns!"

"Good Lord!" cried Cavor, as though that was horrible.

"Look here, Cavor," I said. "I've half the voting power in this affair, and this is the case for a practical man. I'm a practical man, and you are not. I'm not going to trust to Selenites and geometrical figures again, if I can help it ... That's all. Let's get back, and come again."

He reflected. "When I came to the moon," he said, "I ought to have come alone."

"The question we are discussing," I said, "is how to get back to the sphere."

"It is clear," said Cavor, "that while the sun is on this side of the moon, the air will be blowing through this planet sponge from the dark side hither ... Very well, there's a draught here."

"So there is."

"And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this crack goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we have to go."

Suddenly we heard an indistinct murmur, and then the sound of a gong.

"They're coming along that passage," said Cavor. "They'll not think of the crack. They'll go past."

I sprang to my feet. "Good heavens, Cavor! They'll see the fungi I have been throwing down. They'll—!"

I didn't finish my sentence. I leapt over the fungus tops towards the upper end of the cavern. It turned upward and became a draughty crack again. I was about to climb up into this, when I had a bright idea. I turned back, got two of the shining fungi, and putting one into my breast pocket and giving the other to Cavor, I started climbing vigorously after Cavor's blue-lit heels.