His voice, when he spoke, was casual. He might have been speaking of any commonplace—a ball-game, or a good show.
"The sun is coming from my right," he said. "We are going around toward the dark side of the moon. Shall you land there?"
Winslow shook his head. "Wait," he said, "and watch."
Jerry returned to his circle of glass.
here was a shading of light on the surface below him. From the right the sun's brilliance threw black shadows and bright beams transversely over a wilderness of volcanic waste. And beyond, where the rays could not reach, was a greater desolation of darkness, its blackness relieved only by a dim light. He realized with a start of amazement that the dim light he saw was that of their own earth far above: it was lighting their approach to this sister orb.
Their side-motion was swift as they drew nearer. Another hour and more, and they were drawing toward an expanse of utter darkness. The earth-light was fading where they passed. They were approaching, in very fact, the other side of the moon.
What was below? What mysteries awaited them? He shivered, despite the warmth of the generator, cherry-red, that heated the snug cabin; shivered with unformed thoughts of unknown terrors. But he forced his voice to calm steadiness when he repeated his question to Winslow.
"Must we land there?" he asked. "In the dark?"