to spread its light. Only a glow, mingling
with the spots of blue tube light on the poles along the cliff, and
the radiance from the lighted buildings.

No evidence of movement showed about the silent camp. Then a pressure
door in an end of the main building opened its tiny series of locks. A
bent figure came out. The lock closed. The figure straightened and
gazed about the camp. Grotesque, bloated semblance of a man! Helmeted,
with rounded dome hood, suggestion of an ancient sea diver, yet
goggled and trunked like a gas-masked fighter of the twentieth
century.

He stopped presently and disconnected metal weights which were upon
his shoes.

Then he stood erect again, and with giant strides bounded along the
cliff. Fantastic figure in the blue lit gloom! A child's dream of
crags and rocks and strange lights with a single monstrous figure in
seven league boots.

He went the length of the ledge with his twenty foot strides,
inspected the lights, and made adjustments. Came back, and climbed
with agile, bounding leaps up the spider ladder to the dome of the
crater top. A light flashed on up there. Then it was extinguished.

The goggled, bloated figure came leaping down after a moment.
Grantline's exterior watchman making his rounds. He came back to the
main building. Fastened the weights on his shoes. Signaled.

The lock opened. The figure went inside.

It was early evening. After the dinner hour and before the time of
sleep according to the camp routine Grantline was maintaining. Nine
P.M. of Earth Eastern American time, recorded now upon his Earth
chronometer. In the living room of the main building Johnny Grantline
sat with a dozen of his men dispersed about the room, whiling away as
best they could the lonesome hours.

"All as usual. This cursed Moon! When I get home--if I ever do--"

"Say your say, Wilks. But you'll spend your share of the gold leaf and
thank your constellations that you had your chance to make it."

"Let him alone! Come on, Wilks, take a hand here. This game is not any
good with three."

The man who had been outside flung his hissing helmet recklessly to
the floor and unsealed his suit. "Here, get me out of this. No, I
won't play. I can't play your cursed game with nothing at stake!"

A laugh went up at the sharp look Johnny Grantline flung from where he
sat reading in a corner of the room.

"Commander's orders. No gambling gold leafers tolerated here."

"Play the game, Wilks," Grantl