"Give up?" murmured Jack, in blank dismay.
"Yes, for the time being," said the old man. "I'm all played out. I guess we all are. We must have a rest. Here's a sort of cave. Let's crawl in and have a sleep. Then maybe we can do something to-morrow—no, not to-morrow, for they don't have that on the moon, where the day is fourteen days long—but after we sleep we may be able to find our way back. Anyhow, I've got to get some sleep," and without another word the old hunter went into the cave, and, fixing his life-torch near his head, where the fumes from it would dissipate the poisonous gases of the moon, he closed his eyes, and was soon in slumber.
"I—I guess we'd better do the same," said Jack, and Mark nodded. They were both sick at heart.
CHAPTER XXV
THE PETRIFIED CITY
For a time, after they had entered the cave, which was in the side of a rugged mountain, the boys talked in low tones of their perilous situation. For that it was perilous they both knew. Had they been on the earth, lost in some desolate part of it, away from civilization, their plight, would have been bad enough with what little food they possessed.
But on the far-off moon—the dead moon, which contained no living creatures save themselves, as far as they could tell—with no form of animal life that might serve to keep them from starving, with only the scantiest of vegetation, their situation was most deplorable.
"And then there's another thing," said Mark, as if he was cataloguing a list of their troubles.
"What is it?" asked Jack. "I guess we have all the troubles that belong to us, and more, too."
"Well, what are we going to do when the life-torches give out, and we can't breathe any more?" asked Mark dubiously.