"Well?"

"Take me."

She was holding up her hands. He lifted her gently in his arms, dropping
her head over his shoulder. "Now," he said cheerfully, "you keep a good
lookout that way, and I this, and we'll soon be there."

The idea seemed to please her. After Clarence had stumbled on for a few
moments, she said, "Do you see anything, Kla'uns?"

"Not yet."

"No more don't I." This equality of perception apparently satisfied her.
Presently she lay more limp in his arms. She was asleep.

The sun was sinking lower; it had already touched the edge of the
horizon, and was level with his dazzled and straining eyes. At times it
seemed to impede his eager search and task his vision. Haze and black
spots floated across the horizon, and round wafers, like duplicates of
the sun, glittered back from the dull surface of the plains. Then he
resolved to look no more until he had counted fifty, a hundred,
but always with the same result, the return of the empty, unending
plains--the disk growing redder as it neared the horizon, the fire it
seemed to kindle as it sank, but nothing more.

Staggering under his burden, he tried to distract himself by fancying
how the discovery of their absence would be made. He heard the listless,
half-querulous discussion about the locality that regularly pervaded