"You think you know the way?" Jan asked at last.
"Yes—or I thought I did." Torrence's tone was apprehensively dubious. And that, too must have been authentic. Certainly it would be a desperate plight to be lost here on Vulcan. "It was Bob who was sure he knew the way back—"
"I think we are all right," Jan agreed. "That big rock-spire off there—I remember it."
As they progressed, Jan was aware now that the sky behind them was brightening. They turned and stared at it.
"Weird—" Torrence muttered.
"Yes—some sort of storm. If it's bad—you suppose we ought to take shelter? It's pretty open up here."
The sky was certainly weird enough—a swirl of leaden clouds back there, shot now with lurid green and crimson. And suddenly there came a puff of wind. Then another. Stronger, it whined between the nearby naked crags. In a little nearby ravine it caught an area of loose metallic stones, whirled them before it with a tinkling clatter.
"We came through that ravine, coming out this way," Jan said suddenly. "I'm sure of it."
Torrence remembered it also. Another blast of wind came; and with it blowing them, they scurried into the ravine. The lurid storm-sky painted it with a crimson and green glare, so that the narrow cut in the rocky plateau was eerie. To Jan it seemed suddenly infernal. He clutched at the larger, far more bulky Torrence as they hurried along with the wind blasting them.
Loose metallic stones were blowing around them now with a clatter. Then suddenly the sky seemed riven by a darting, jagged red shaft of lightning. And then red rain was pelting them.