"Yeh," agreed Lonny grimly. "And after you got here you were too thick-headed to give up the thing as a bad job, too afraid to face your friends with failure. So you punish yourself with your own temper."
"I suppose that's advice from one who knows," she retorted sarcastically, pausing to rub the cramped muscles of her leg, then going on as he looked back. "Don't—think—I'm crazy—if—"
"Now what's the matter?" demanded Lonny irritably, pausing to see that she was stopped, and was clutching desperately at her throat, pulling at her collar.
"Air—I can't get air," she gasped. "How—about—you?" Almost instantly, breathing was becoming difficult for Lonny. He peered around with dismay and saw that the mist was rising dangerously and that visibility was much stronger. Out of the distance came a faint eerie whisper, as of distant winds dying.
"Lana, it looks like we're in for it," he said grimly. "That's high pressure you feel. Pretty soon your ears will begin to ring. And if we don't hurry we may never get back to boast about things here to our sappy friends at home."
When the heavy pressure areas came over Uranus, mists rose high in the air and dispersed slowly. Swift expansion of atmospheric gases caused a tremendous surface pressure that would last for some time. It meant a quick crushing death under air compression if they didn't reach the mud-submarine.
Lana Hilton was white with fright and trying hard not to show it. A strange metamorphosis was taking place in the heavens. Lancing colors of orange and red shot up like gigantic swords to flash across the sky. His ears began to throb dully. As the mist rose Lonny saw that they had come too far to the left and that the mud-ship was a hundred yards directly to their right. He saw something else, too.
A man was running across the muddy surface—if his fast wobbling progress on mud-shoes could have been described as a run. It could be only one person—Link Raeburn.
A terrible fear seized him. If Raeburn reached the mud-ship and shut them out, they would die horribly. He began to hurry forward—slipped and fell awkwardly. Lana made a wry face and helped him to his feet.
"The rat," she gasped. "He heard you refer to my bag of pearls as a mere 'handful'. It wouldn't do you any harm to think once in a while before speaking, big boy." Handful—of course her small collection was a handful compared to his own rich pickings. So that was why she had come with him!