Once, for a heart-stopping moment, they thought they had found their desire. Rounding a bend, they came upon a cavern alive with color; towering vines and trees laden with great clusters of grapes; bushes aflower with myriads of gorgeous buds. Dorothy sprang forward with a cry of joy—but when she touched one of the mock roses it shattered to fine, white, powdery snow; upon investigation the trees, the vines and "grapes" turned out to be of the same, perishable nature.
And Tim remembered their name. "Oulopholites," he said. "Sulphate of magnesia and gypsum. Mother Nature does repeat herself, you see. She uses the same forms, but these are lifeless mimicry." And he looked at his watch. "Guess we'd better turn back, eh, skipper? We've been two hours on the prowl, and there doesn't seem to be anything in this direction. Shall we go back and try another corridor?"
Lane nodded slowly.
"I suppose so. But—Oh, while we're this far, we might as well peek into that next cavern. Won't take but a minute. And if there's nothing there—"
The words died on his lips. As he spoke them, they had moved through a short archway; the yellow circle of his flashlight had swung about a cavern larger than any in which they had yet stood. The floor of this cavern sloped sharply downward, narrowing into a funnel. And at the end of that funnel....
"Great gods of space!" whispered Captain Lane, awestruck. "Am I crazy? Do you see what I see?"
For that upon which his lightbeam had ended, the incredible structure from which its glow was now reflecting in shimmering clarity, was—a massive door of bronze! Golden in sheen, strong and secure, obviously the work of intelligent craftsmen, it met their wondering stares with bland imperturbability.
And Tim gave a great shout.
"A door! Venusians! We're all right now. Food and rest ... they'll tell us how to get back to civilization...."
And then—