Holden escorted him away, while Cochrane carefully controlled his
features. After a few moments Holden came back, his face sagging.

"This your drink, Jed?" he asked dispiritedly. "I need it!" He picked up
the glass and emptied it. "The history of that case would be
interesting, if one could really get to the bottom of it! Come along!"
His tone was dreariness itself. "I've got a jeep waiting for us."

Babs stood up, her eyes shining.

"May I come, Mr. Cochrane?"

Cochrane waved her along. Holden tried to stalk gloomily, but nobody can
stalk in one-sixth gravity. He reeled, and then depressedly accommodated
himself to conditions on the moon.

There was an airlock with a smaller edition of the moon-jeep that had
brought them from the ship to the city. It was a brightly-polished metal
body, raised some ten feet off the ground on outrageously large wheels.
It was very similar to the straddle-trucks used in lumberyards on Earth.
It would straddle boulders in its path. It could go anywhere in spite of
dust and detritus, and its metal body was air-tight and held air for
breathing, even out on the moon's surface.

They climbed in. There was the sound of pumping, which grew fainter. The
outer lock-door opened. The moon-jeep rolled outside.

Babs stared with passionate rapture out of a shielded port. There were
impossibly jagged stones, preposterously steep cliffs. There had been no