kept from freezing by means of a fur pouch in which it was carried.

"If there's a possibility of being lost some time," spoke Mark, "we'd
better figure out just how long our food will last," and he examined
the contents of his basket.

Fortunately Washington White, with a knowledge of the appetites of the
chums, had filled the baskets with lavish hands. There was, they found,
food enough to last them three days, if they ate sparingly, and there
was enough water for half that time, providing they only took small
sips when thirsty. But they had noticed, in one or two places, little
pools of liquid, which they had not tasted, but which might prove to be
drinking water. Certainly they would need more if they were destined to
remain away from the projectile for very long.

"Well, then," observed Mark, when the food calculation was over, "it
appears that we can remain lost for about three days, at the most."

"Oh, but we'll be back home--I mean in the projectile--long before
that," declared Jack.

"I wish I was sure of that," murmured Andy with a dubious shake of his
head.

"Well, let's move on again," suggested Jack. "We feel better now, and
maybe we'll have better luck."

They started off, tramping over the rugged surface of the moon, while
the sun shone with tepid heat down on them. They had to go this way and
that to avoid the immense fissures in the ground or the yawning