“Just keep up with me and go slowly,” Garry instructed. “We’ll find out what’s ahead in a few minutes.”
Down, down they went on a gentle slope.
“When are we going to start up?” Patch asked worriedly.
“I don’t know,” Garry replied, a little anxious himself.
Suddenly Garry moved too fast for Patch to keep up and lost contact with him. Patch lost his head momentarily and cried out, dashing forward to regain touch with Garry. In his haste, Patch tripped and fell on the jagged rocks. On the earth this would have been a bad fall, but the weaker gravity here saved him from serious injury. But the weaker gravity also gave him a longer sprawl and carried him down the slope.
As soon as Garry heard Patch’s frantic cry, he grabbed wildly in the darkness, hoping by chance to reach his friend. But his hands met only empty air.
Patch’s shrieks were cut off abruptly, and stark silence filled Garry’s ears.
“Patch!” Garry called, dread making him tremble all over. “Patch, where are you?”
He had a mad impulse to leap down the incline, grabbing desperately at anything within reach. But he knew this could be disastrous for both himself and Patch.
Slowly, Garry inched farther downward, heartsick as he considered the things that might have happened to his friend—a fall knocking him out or worse, or a tumble down a deep, treacherous pit.