inking in
the west. In four days' time or less it will be night."

"But--we've only eaten once!"

"I know that. And-- But there are the stars!"

"But why should time seem different because we are on a smaller planet?"

"I don't know. There it is!"

"How does one tell time?"

"Hunger--fatigue--all those things are different. Everything is
different--everything. To me it seems that since first we came out of the
sphere has been only a question of hours--long hours--at most."

"Ten days," I said; "that leaves--" I looked up at the sun for a moment,
and then saw that it was halfway from the zenith to the western edge of
things. "Four days! ... Cavor, we mustn't sit here and dream. How do you
think we may begin?"

I stood up. "We must get a fixed point we can recognise--we might hoist a
flag, or a handkerchief, or something--and quarter the ground, and work
round that."

He stood up beside me.

"Yes," he said, "there is nothing for it but to hunt the sphere. Nothing.
We may find it--certainly we may find it. And if not--"

"We must keep on looking."

He look this way and that, glanced up at the sky and down at the tunnel,
and astonished me by a sudden gesture of impatience. "Oh! but we have
done foolishly! To have come to this pass! Think how it might have been,
and the things we might have done!"

"We might do something yet."

"Never the thing we might have done. Here below out feet is a world.
Think of what that world must be! Think of that machine we saw, and the
lid and the shaft! They were just remote outlying things, and those
creatures we have seen and fought with no more than ignorant peasants,
dwellers in the outskirts, yokels and labourers half akin to brutes. Down
below! Caverns beneath caverns, tunnels, structures, ways... It must
open out, and be greater and wider and more populous as one descends.
Assuredly. Right down at the last the central sea that washes round the
core of the moon. Think of its inky waters under the spare lights--if,
indeed, their eyes need lights! Think of the cascading tributaries
pouring down their channels to feed it! Think of the tides upon its
surface, and the rush and swirl of its ebb and flow! perhaps they have
ships that go upon it, perhaps down there are mighty cities and swarming
ways, and wisdom and order passing the wit of man. And we may die here
upon it, and never see the masters who must be--ruling over these things!
We may freeze and die here, and the air