"Not necessarily," said Anderson. "Do you think the fleas and microbes that crawl the hairy forests on the surface of a Saint Bernard dog have any conception of the living thing which they inhabit?"
While LeDoux and Anderson were talking, Verger had disappeared into the space-craft, from which he presently emerged brandishing a large, razor-edged axe.
"We'll soon find out whether it's alive or not," he cried, as he swung the powerful weapon over his head and slashed it with a mighty effort into the thing.
The axe penetrated the substance as easily as if it had been made of jelly, in fact the blade sank completely out of sight. Almost instantly the wound closed, leaving the outer surface intact. When Verger tried to withdraw the axe, he found that he did not have strength enough to do so.
"Here, fellows, give me a hand!" he yelled.
All three of them tugged at the axe-handle without being able to dislodge the blade. Finally they strained so hard that the hickory shaft cracked and the portion which was attached to the blade was sucked out of sight.
For an instant Verger stood with his mouth open, gazing foolishly at the broken rod in his hand. Then he swore and exclaimed, "Now, just what does that prove?"
Anderson shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
"If you ask me," said LeDoux, "it proves that we're stuck here for the rest of our lives—which probably won't be long enough to become tedious."