Unpacking would be finished in a couple of hours at most. Meanwhile there was some preliminary exploring to be done. The neighboring ground must be surveyed, and landmarks noted, so that they would have a suitable base from which to start their search. Kalinoff had talked about two mountains with a saddlelike ridge joining them. Those two mountains shouldn't be too difficult to recognize—if ever the expedition ran across them.
McCracken, obeying orders, was lending a hand at the unloading. What with Mercury's low gravity, and his own strength, he had no difficulty in wrestling around the five hundred pound crates in which their supplies had been packed. However, he was of little help in getting the work done. With what Lamoureux decided was characteristic stupidity, he seemed to be mostly in everyone else's way.
Lamoureux called, "McCracken!"
"Yes, sir."
"Let go those crates. The others will handle them. I want you—"
Lamoureux stopped suddenly. A distant sound had come to his ears—the explosion of a bullet.
There was a sudden silence that was so absolute, Lamoureux could hear his men breathe. Another bullet exploded, then another—and silence again.
Somebody whispered, "The natives don't have guns. It must be Kalinoff!"
"What luck to find him this way!"
Lamoureux had run for his own gun. He fired ten shots into the air and waited. But there was no reply.