The question now was what to do. They had little enough food, and not too much in the way of other supplies. They would have to live off the planet until some kind of rescue expedition had been organized to save them. If Kalinoff had done it, they could, too. Lamoureux's face burned as he pictured himself striding over to Kalinoff, staring at the man solemnly, and uttering those historic words, "Dr. Livingston, I presume." That was one scene that would never take place.
It was growing colder by the hour. That meant that they would have to move over toward the Hot Side before the Sun sank beneath the horizon altogether.
McCracken, the most cheerful of the lot, had a glum face as he asked, "What do we do now, Captain?"
"First we eat, McCracken. Then we move toward the Sun. Just one word, McCracken. You like to shoot?"
"Yes, sir."
"Save your bullets. I have an idea we're going to need them before this little adventure of ours is finished."
Then Lamoureux sat down on a snowy rock, leaned back, and thought everything over. It was improbable now that any of his kids would ever get to Lunar Tech. Well, that wasn't anything to be sorry about. The life of ease and luxury of the place had ruined more than one promising youngster. His wife would have to get along with a single robot. It would do her good to wait on the family for a change. As for his relatives—to hell with them. Let them find somebody else to sponge on.
He was busy with these cheerful reflections when he heard McCracken shout, "Hey!"
A figure loomed out of the snow ahead.
The figure paused and stared at Lamoureux.