"It's quite possible," Marlin suggested, "to conceive of chemicals in the clay which attack dead tissue, but to which live cells are resistant."
"Intelligent chemicals! That's a hot one!" retorted the girl.
Marlin eyed her calmly. "It's not so farfetched. I can name one chemical right off the bat—just plain water. Put dead vegetation in a damp spot and it decays. Live vegetation draws nourishment and thrives under the same condition."
McGruder eyed with distaste the slender rations set out before him, then glanced up longingly at the enclosing sphere.
"There must be a mess of them dead animals out in that clay. I wouldn't mind havin' a little fresh meat, even if it was only a chipmunk."
The suggestion was received apathetically, but Marlin found himself reflecting that this might offer a not impossible solution of their food problem—presuming that they survived the dwindling stock of canned provisions.
CHAPTER XII
For the most part, the vessel had proceeded without producing any sense of motion. A violent shift would have dislodged everything loose in the shell—the scaffolding, ladders, the temporarily secured electric lights—and yet there had been nothing of the sort. Once in a while, they felt a trembling jar. This probably was caused by the impact of a meteorite. But thus far, no such bodies had pierced the heavy insulation of resistant clay.
There was now, however, quite definite indication that they were moving in space. Observations taken at intervals showed that the "moon" was coming closer. Presently, the irregularities on the edge of the disc were apparent to the eye, and shadowy configurations on its rocky surface could be discerned.