The scientist, his first surprise over, would have moved forward to examine this uncanny liquid more closely, but Chenobi restrained him.
“Nay,” he said gravely, “there is death in the stream of light! None can touch it and live. Sit ye here awhile, till I prepare food.”
With that the Ayuti passed out of the building, leaving his friend wondering wherein lay the deadly power of the extraordinary liquid.
“There seems no end to the marvels of this weird land,” Mervyn remarked. “If ever we return to the upper world, what a tale we shall have to tell.”
Haverly closed one eye.
“You’ve got considerable standing amongst science men, professor,” he said, “but I guess you’ll have a real stiff job to make ’em believe you. A yarn of this sort ain’t goin’ to be sucked down as gospel all at once.”
“You wouldn’t have me keep silent?” retorted the scientist, somewhat indignantly. “Knowing what we do it would be little short of a crime to suppress our knowledge.”
“That’s so,” returned the Yankee imperturbably, “but I’d sooner you face the music than me. If we ever manage to burrow our way back to daylight, I guess your yarn’ll kinder upset some of the accepted theories as to the way the inside of this yer planet’s built.”
“No doubt,” Mervyn answered, “yet that will not deter me. My first work will be to write a book on the underworld.”
“Bravo!” Seymour cried; “I like your pluck, Mervyn. When we have found Garth and the boat, we can consult Chenobi about getting back to the upper world. If there should be any way out of this gloomy hole the Ayuti is sure to know of it.”