and graceful posture spoke eloquently. She showed
them more than a trace of fear, too, as she marked them coming from
the depths. Jerry shook his head in vehement denial.

He pointed above, spread his hands wide, tried as best he could to
indicate vast distance beyond. She stared, wide-eyed, then in her turn
knelt as if before a god.

"She thinks we have come down from the sun," Winslow surmised. "Well,
let it go at that." But Jerry Foster was embarrassed in the strange
role of a god; he raised the humbled, kneeling young woman to her
feet.

He pointed to her gold-clad figure and repeated the name she had
given. "Marahna," he said. "Marahna!" Then, placing his hand on his
companion, he repeated: "Winslow--Winslow!" And, pointing to himself,
he completed the introduction with: "Foster, Jerry--Jerry Foster!"

The pale lips formed themselves slowly to the strange and unaccustomed
sounds.

"Cherrie," she repeated, and smiled in comprehension. "Cherrie."

This was the first of many lessons, and it was amazing to both men how
rapidly they learned to get their thoughts across. In turn, they
learned to read the messages that the slim hands and graceful,
undulating body conveyed. Even words were linked one by one with their
indicated objects and meanings.

* * * * *

One syllable the girl used only in a hushed and awe-stricken tone. It
was "Oong" that she whispered, while her eyes filled with terror and
dread. And they knew this for the name of the horror that waited in
the black center of that unholy place where the pathway of light
ascended. It was later that they learned to read hatred as well as
sheer terror in the emotions that the word _Oong_ aroused.

The first lesson ended in a soft exclamation from the girl. She
withdrew, to return in a moment with a beaker of hammered gold, filled
with cold water. In her hands, too, were strange fruits and branches
of fungus. She ate bits of them to show they were food. And Jerry, as
he watched her, was aware that he was famished. But the two men ate
sparingly at first of the strange food.

It was tasteless, they found, except for an elusive flavor, but the
reception of the food in their gnawing stomachs was satisfactory.
Their strength was returning, and with it came hope of release. The
moon-people, evidently, were not altogether villainous.

"Thank you," said Jerry in a normal tone, "that was--" White fingers
trembled against his lips to