rentz motors smashed--my air shut off. Then
the air came again. The roaring in my ears was stilled; my head
cleared, and I found that we were on the landing--fighting.

He presently broke away from me, bounded to the summit, with me after
him. In the close confines of the suit I was bathed in sweat, and
gasping. I had had no thought to increase the oxygen content of my
air. But I sorely needed more oxygen for my laboring, pounding heart
and my panting breath. I fumbled for the oxygen control-lever. I could
not find it; or it would not operate.

I realized I was fighting sluggishly, almost aimlessly. But so was
Coniston!

* * * * *

It seemed dreamlike. A phantasmagoria of blows and staggering steps. A
nightmare with only the horrible vision of this goggled helmet always
before my eyes.

It seemed that we were rolling on the ground, back on the summit. The
unshadowed Earthlight was clear and bright. The abyss was beside me.
Coniston, rolling, was now on top, now under me, trying to shove me
over the brink. It was all like a dream--as though I were asleep,
dreaming that I did not have enough air.

I strove to keep my senses. He was struggling to roll me over the
brink. Ah, that would not do! But I was so tired. One cannot fight
without oxygen!

I suddenly knew that I had shaken him off and gained my feet. He rose
up, swaying. He was as tired, confused, half-asphyxiated as I.

The brink of the abyss was behind us. I lunged, desperately shoving,
avoiding his clutch.

He went over, and fell soundlessly, his body whirling end over end
down into the shadows, far down.

I drew back. My senses faded as I sank panting to the rocks. But with
inactivity, my thumping heart quieted. My respirations slowed. The
Erentz circulation gained on my poisoned air. It purified.

That blessed oxygen! My head cleared again. Strength came to me. I
felt better.

Coniston had fallen to his death. I was victor. I went to the brink,
cautiously, for I was still dizzy. I could see, far down there on the
crater-floor, a little patch of Earthlight in which a mashed human
figure was lying.

* * * * *

I staggered back again. A moment or two must have passed while I stood
there on the summit, with my senses clearing and my strength renewed
as the blood-stream cleared in my veins.

I was victor. Coniston was dead. I saw now, down on the lower
staircase below the camp-ledge, a