tter
before another windstorm blows away the jeep tracks. Fortunately, the
jeep has a leaky oil pan, so we always have the smears to follow, unless
they get covered up, too. We're taking extra oxygen, shells, and rifles.
Food, too, of course. And we're locking up the ship.

* * * * *

It's later, now. We found the jeep, but no Kroger or Pat. Lots of those
big tracks nearby. We're taking the jeep to follow the aliens' tracks.
There's some moss around here, on reddish brown rocks that stick up
through the sand, just on the shady side, though. Kroger must be happy
to have found his lichen.

The trail ended at the brink of a deep crevice in the ground. Seems to
be an earthquake-type split in solid rock, with the sand sifting over
this and the far edge like pink silk cataracts. The bottom is in the
shade and can't be seen. The crack seems to extend to our left and right
as far as we can look.

There looks like a trail down the inside of the crevice, but the Sun's
setting, so we're waiting till tomorrow to go down.

Going down was Jones' idea, not mine.

* * * * *

_June 22, 1961_

Well, we're at the bottom, and there's water here, a shallow stream
about thirty feet wide that runs along the center of the canal (we've
decided we're in a canal). No sign of Pat or Kroger yet, but the sand
here is hard-packed and damp, and there are normal-size footprints
mingled with the alien ones, sharp and clear. The aliens seem to have
six or seven toes. It varies from print to print. And they're barefoot,
too, or else they have the damnedest-looking shoes in creation.

The constant shower of sand near the cliff walls is annoying, but it's
sandless (shower-wise) near the stream, so we're following the
footprints along the bank. Also, the air's better down here. Still thin,
but not so bad as on the surface. We're going without masks to save
oxygen for the return trip (Jones assures me there'll _be_ a return
trip), and the air's only a little bit sandy, but handkerchiefs over
nose and mouth solve this.

We look like desperadoes, what with the rifles and covered faces. I said
as much to Lloyd and he told me to shut up. Moss all over the cliff
walls. Swell luck for Kroger.

* * * * *

We've found Kroger and Pat, with the help of the aliens. Or maybe I
should call them the Martians. Eit