"I guess we'd better get going," said Roger. "All set, Astro?"
"Ready, Roger," answered the Venusian.
The three boys dressed and arranged the food packs on their backs. Tom carried the remainder of the Martian water, two quart plastic containers, and a six-yard square of space cloth, an extremely durable flyweight fabric that would serve as protection from the sun during the rest stop of the day. Roger and Astro carried the food in compact packs on their backs. Each boy wore a makeshift hat of space cloth, along with space goggles, a clear sheet of colored plastic that fitted snugly across the face. All three carried emergency lights salvaged from the wrecked ship.
Tom walked out away from the ship several hundred yards and studied his pocket compass. He held it steady for a moment, watching the needle swing around. He turned and walked slowly still watching the needle of the compass. He waited for it to steady again, then turned back to Roger and Astro who stood watching from the window port.
"This is the way." Tom pointed away from the ship. "Three degrees south of east, one hundred and fifty-four miles away, if everything is correct, should bring us smack on top of a major canal."
"So long, Lady Venus," said Astro, as he left the ship.
"Don't think it hasn't been fun," added Roger, "because it hasn't!"
Astro fell in behind Roger, who in turn followed Tom who walked some ten feet ahead. A light breeze sprang up and blew across the surface of the powdery sand. Ten minutes later, when they stopped to adjust their shoulder packs, they looked back. The breeze had obliterated their tracks and the mountain of sand covering the spaceship appeared to be no different from any of the other small dunes on the desert. The New Sahara desert of Mars had claimed another Earth-ship victim.
"If we can't see the Lady Venus standing still, and knowing where to look," said Astro, "how could a man in a rocket scout ever find it?"
"He wouldn't," said Roger flatly. "And when the water ran out, we'd just be sitting there."