Four Martians and Barry Williams dug at the wall with cupped hands. It was hot, dirty work in the heavy air of the Crypt. Sweat beaded their faces. Arms ached after the first few minutes.
Barry did not slacken his pace, and the others stayed with him. At last, the Earthman gave a cry of triumph.
"It isn't thick! See, the dirt is crumbling away from us now—falling on the other side." The vigor of their attack redoubled.
Hearing the cries, the Martians posted down the tunnel came running to help. Deisanocta stepped closer, her face radiant. Barry threw her a glance, and his heart noted the way her black hair threw back highlights of the walls' radiance.
His hand shot out again at the wall, viciously, and the last grains of dirt fell inward. Light showed through. Beside him, the others worked frantically. In seconds, the opening was large enough for one of them to pass through.
"Deisanocta," Barry Williams gasped. "Go in. I'll be right behind you."
The rest crowded behind, and all but the unconscious old Martian were soon on the other side. They stared open-mouthed, incredulously at the sight that met them.
It was a great room into which they'd made their way, the walls luminous, and stretching off almost out of view. There were no dead here. Except for one object, the vast chamber was empty.
That object itself was big, black, rearing upward above them halfway to the distant roof.
"A spaceship!" cried Deisanocta.