“Absolute zero—the nadir of temperature—is said to be 459 degrees below zero Fahrenheit.”
“Enough, enough,” shouted Taggert. “I said I was satisfied without getting out on a moon.”
“There’s Deimos over there now,” cried the professor suddenly, pointing.
“Don’t know the lady,” commented the reporter. Nevertheless he looked interestedly, and a trifle uneasily in the direction indicated.
“Deimos, or ‘Fear,’ is the moon farthest from Mars; Phobus, meaning ‘Panic,’ is the other,” the professor explained.
Off toward the northwest, just beyond the outer rim of the planet, a small star was suspended. It appeared much like any ordinary star in spite of its small bulk, for it was much closer than the vastly larger stars which we are accustomed to see.
“Now we must keep clear of that one, and watch closely for the other,” cautioned Professor Palmer.
At an elevation of about 3,000 miles nothing of the other moon had been seen, and it was concluded that it was then on the opposite side of the planet. But they were soon to find out their mistake—one that nearly proved fatal.
It happened while all three were intent upon the nearing planet, which presented a sight of such interest that even Professor Palmer had temporarily forgotten his own recent warning.
Their sole warning was a sudden cessation of the sun’s rays. Darkness reigned, except for the reflection from the Martian disk below. The abruptness of it made them gasp in unreasoning terror.