So we divided our food with painstaking fairness. How we gorged on the
raw red flesh and thick greasy fat! Food that would have disgusted us
when we lived and worked in the Central Station, now was ambrosia to
our sharpened appetites. When not the least scrap was left, and we had
slaked our thirst with chunks of ice from the cavern floor, I spoke.

"What is that plan you spoke of, Keston, for reconquering the earth
from the machines?"

Abud looked up abruptly at my question, and it seemed to me that a
crafty smile glinted in the small pig eyes.

Keston hesitated a moment before he spoke.

"I confess my plans have been materially impeded by this sudden
predicament we find ourselves in, thanks to our good friend here." He
ironically indicated Abud.

The big prolat merely grunted.

"However," Keston continued, "I'll have to make the best of
circumstances, without the aid of certain materials that I had
expected to assemble.

"The idea is a simple one. You've noted no doubt how the terminus of
the Glacier opposite the Central Control Station overhangs. The brow,
over a thousand feet up, extends out at least a hundred feet beyond
the base."

* * * * *

I nodded assent, though Abud seemed startled. Many times had Keston
and I speculated on the danger of an avalanche at this point, and
wondered why the Station had been built in such an exposed place. Once
indeed we had ventured to suggest to the aristo Council the
advisability of removing the Central Control to some other point, but
the cold silence that greeted our diffident advice deterred us from
further pursuit of the subject.

"Now, you know as well as I," Keston resumed, "that a glacier is
merely a huge river of ice, and, though solid, partakes of some of the
qualities of freely flowing water. As a matter of fact, glaciers do
flow, because the tremendous pressure at the bottom lowers the melting
point of ice to such a degree that the ice actually liquefies, and
flows along."

I followed him eagerly in these elementary statements, trying to
glimpse what he was driving at, but Abud's brute features were fixed
in a blank stare.

"This glacier does move. We've measured it--a matter of an inch or two
a day. If, however,"--Keston's voice took on a deeper note--"we can
manage to hasten that process, the Glacier will overwhelm the
countryside."

He paused, and that gave me a chance to interpose some objections.

"But hold on