"Don't be an ass." Jerry's tone was harsh, but the tall man must have known what emotions lay underneath.
"We'll play it out together," he said.
Jerry was silent as he reached in the darkness for Winslow's hand.
"Of course I knew you were that sort," he said. He waited a moment, then added: "But you're going, old man, you're going. Don't you see it's our only hope?"
Winslow shook his head emphatically. Jerry could see him in the dim reflection from that radiance above. "Nothing doing," the calm voice assured him. "Don't bother to think up more reasons why I should desert."
"Listen!" Jerry gripped roughly at the other's shoulder. "Listen to reason.
"If you go and I go back there, what will happen? With Marahna gone we are helpless, and we will be helpless to save her. The long night is ahead. How can we live? Where can we live? We will be wiped out as sure as we're alive this minute.
"If you go—and if you make it to the ship—there's a chance. Alone, I may manage to stick it out." He knew he was lying, knew that the other knew it too, but he went on determinedly. "You can wait for me up above. My arm will be well—" Winslow stopped him with a gesture.
"There's a chance," the older man was muttering, "there's a chance...." He swung quickly toward Foster, to grab hard at the good right hand.
"I'm going," he stated. "I'm on my way. I won't say good-by; what's the use—I'll be back soon!"