Marlin stepped over Maw Barstow's sleeping body and took the white-gowned girl gently by the arm.
"Better get back to your covers," he advised; then, softly: "Girl, oh girl! Maybe you've got something after all!"
When Marlin next awakened, it was to the rude shock of rough hands shaking him excitedly. He struggled up, his first impulse to strike out in resentment. It was DuChane.
"Wake up, Dave! For God's sake, wake up! I've got something to show you!"
Still half asleep, Marlin followed the other toward the ladder which led to the scaffold by which they had first entered. He felt strangely lightheaded, nauseated, wobbly on his feet, and his muscles ached. Unsteadily, he followed the other up to the scaffold.
DuChane applied his eye to the periscope, then gestured.
"Look!" His voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
Marlin crouched before the eyepiece. He peered through it with vague bewilderment at first, then with growing interest—concern—amazement.
He spoke at last—His voice strained and unfamiliar.