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class="calibre1">beef, and Andy put the cartridge in that.

 

“Look out now, boys,” he called, “I’m going to light the fuse. I didn’t

make a heavy charge, but it might do some damage, so we’ll go outside.”

 

They hurried from the place, with its silent guests and waiters, and

reached the street. A moment later there sounded a dull explosion.

 

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got!” called Jack.

 

Back to the kitchen they ran, the two boys in the lead.

 

“Why—why—the stone has disappeared!” cried Jack, in disappointment,

as he glanced all around.

 

“Yes, but look here,” added Mark. “Here are bits of meat,” and he

picked up from the stone table some scraps of meat.

 

“Is it really roast beef?” cried Jack. “Good to eat?”

 

Mark smelled of it. Then he put the morsel cautiously to his lips. The

next instant it had disappeared. It was proof enough.

 

“Good! I should say it was good!” exclaimed Mark. “I wish there was

more of it! What happened to the rock of meat, Andy?”

 

“I used too heavy a charge, and it blew all to pieces. I’ll know better

next time. There are lots more chunks of meat, and we’ll soon have a

feast. I’ll make another bombshell.”

 

He worked rapidly while Jack sampled some of the shreds of meat that

had been scattered about by the explosion. The beef was perfectly

cooked, and in spite of its great age it was as fresh and palatable as

frozen meat ever is. Besides the heat generated by the explosion had

partly thawed it, so that there was no trouble in chewing it.

 

Once more came the explosion, a slight one this time, and when the

adventurers re-entered the kitchen they found that what had been a lump

of stone had been broken open, and the middle part, like the kernel of

a nut, was sweet and good. It was cooked, so they did not have to eat

it raw.

 

“Say, maybe this isn’t good!” exclaimed Jack, chewing away. “It’s the

best ever!”

 

“And there’s enough in this city to keep us alive for months, if we

can’t find the projectile in that time,” declared Andy.

 

“Don’t you think we will?” asked Mark.

 

“Of course, but I was only just mentioning it. Now, eat all you want,

boys, I have quite a few cartridges left. I didn’t fire away as many as

I thought I did, and we can blast out a dinner any time we want it. So

eat hearty!”

 

They needed no second invitation, and for the first time in several

days they had enough to eat. It was comfortable in the petrified

restaurant, too, for they could move about without carrying their life-torches constantly in their hand. The gases from the perforated boxes

filled the rooms, and were not quickly dispelled by the poisonous

vapors as they were outside, so they could walk around in comparative

freedom.

 

“Now, if we could only blast out a loaf of bread, we’d be all right,”

said Jack. They found some petrified loaves, but on breaking one open

it was found to be stone all the way through.

 

Spurred on by an overwhelming thirst, they wandered about the dead

city, but found no moisture. They tried to chew some of the pale green

vegetation that grew more plentiful on this side of the moon, but it

was exceedingly bitter, and they could not stand it, though there was

some juice in it.

 

They crossed the city, and wandered out into the country beyond. It

appeared to have been a fertile land before the stone death settled

down on it. They saw farmers in the fields, turned into images, beside

the oxen with which they had been plowing. But nowhere was there a sign

of water. Had it not been for a frozen rice pudding, they would have

perished that first day in the stone city.

 

As it was, they dragged out a miserable existence, eating from time to

time of the blasted meat. But even this palled on them after a while,

for their lips were parched and cracked, and their tongues were swollen

in their mouths.

 

“I can’t stand this any longer!” cried Jack.

 

“What are you going to do?” asked Mark.

 

“Go out and look for water. There must be some in the country outside

if there isn’t any in this city. I’m going to have a look. Besides, if

I’m going to die, I might as well die while I’m busy. I’m not going to

sit here in this dreadful place and give up.”

 

His words urged them to follow him, and, with lagging steps, for they

were weak and faint, they went from the restaurant, which they had made

their home since coming to the petrified city.

 

Out into the open fields they went, but their search seemed likely to

be in vain. Between times of looking for the water they scanned the sky

for a sight of the projectile, which, hoping against hope, they thought

they might see hovering over them. But there was no sight of it.

 

They came to a vast, level plain, girt with mountains, a lonesome

place, where there was no sign of life. Listlessly they walked over it.

 

Suddenly Andy, who was in the lead, uttered a cry and sprang forward.

The boys ran to him, and found the old hunter gazing into the depths of

a great black pool, which filled a depression in the surface of the

moon. It was a small crater, and was filled, nearly to the top, with

some black liquid, which gloomily reflected back the light of the sun.

 

“I’m going to have a drink!” cried Andy, and before the boys could stop

him he threw himself face downward at the edge of the black pool.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SIGNAL FAILS

 

“Stop! Don’t drink that! It may be poison!” yelled Jack.

 

“Pull him back!” shouted Mark, and together they advanced on the old

hunter. They tried to drag him away from the black pool, but Andy shook

them off.

 

“Let—me—alone!” he gasped, as he bent over the uninviting liquid and

drank deeply. “It’s water, I tell you—good water—and I’m almost—

dead—from—thirst!”

 

“Water? Is that water?” cried Jack.

 

“Well, it’s the nearest thing to it that I’ve tasted since I’ve been

lost on the moon,” spoke Andy, as he slowly arose. “My, but that was

good!” he added fervently.

 

“But—water?” gasped Mark. “How can there be water here?”

 

“Taste and see,” invited the old hunter.

 

They hesitated a moment, and then followed his example. The liquid—

water it evidently had once been—had a peculiar taste, but it was not

bad. By some curious chemical action, which they never understood, the

liquid had been prevented from evaporating, nor was it frozen or

petrified as was everything else on the moon.

 

What gave the liquid its peculiar black color they could not learn.

Sufficient for them that it was capable of quenching their thirst, and

they all drank deeply and refilled their bottles.

 

“Now, I feel like eating again,” spoke Andy, “We can take some of this

back with us, and have a good meal on blasted meat. Whenever we get

thirsty we’ll have to make a trip back here for water.”

 

The boys agreed with him. They examined the black pool. It appeared to

be filled by hidden springs, though there was no bubbling, and the

surface was as unruffled as a mirror. The liquid was not very inviting,

being as black as ink, but the color appeared to be a sort of

reflection, for when the water, if such it was, had been put into

bottles it at once became clear, nor did it stain their faces or hands.

 

“Well, it’s another queer thing in this queer moon,” said Jack. “I wish

the two professors could see this place. They’d have lots to write

about.”

 

“I wonder if we’ll ever see them again?” asked Mark.

 

“Sure,” replied Jack hopefully. “We’ll fill our lunch baskets, take a

lot of water along, and have another hunt for the projectile soon.”

 

They did, but with no success. For several days more they lived in the

petrified city, the meat encased in its block of stone, which Andy

blasted from time to time, and the black water keeping them alive. From

time to time they went out in the surrounding country, looking for the

projectile. But they could not find the place where they had left it,

nor could they find even the place where they had picked up the lost

tool that had cost them so much suffering. They were more completely

lost than ever. They crossed back and forth on the bridge over the

crater chasm, and penetrated for many miles in a radius from that,

marking their way by chipping off pieces of the rocky pinnacles, as

they did not want to leave the petrified city behind.

 

From some peaks they caught glimpses of other towns that had fallen

under the strange spell of the petrification. Some were larger and some

smaller than the one they called “home.”

 

Jack proposed visiting some of them, thinking they might find better

food, but Mark and Andy decided it was best to stay where they were, as

they were nearer the supposed location of the projectile.

 

“I think they’ll manage to fix it up somehow, so it will move,” said

Andy, “and then they’ll come to look for us. I hope it will be soon,

though.”

 

“Why?” asked Jack, struck by something in the tone of the old hunter.

 

“Because,” replied Andy, “I am afraid our life-torches won’t last much

longer. Mine seems to be weakening. I have to hold it very close to my

face now to breathe in comfort, while at first the oxygen from it was

so strong that I could hold it two feet off and never notice the

poisonous moon vapors.”

 

This was a new danger, and, thinking of it, the faces of the boys

became graver than ever. Death seemed bound to get them somehow.

 

Two more days went by. They had now been lost on the moon over a week.

Each one now noticed that his life-torch was weakening. How much longer

would they last? They dared not answer that question. They could only

hope.

 

The sun, too, was moving away from them. Soon the long night would set

in. By Mark’s computation there was only three more days of daylight

left. What would happen in the desolate darkness?

 

As they were returning from the black pool, with their water bottles

filled, and put inside the fur bags to prevent the frost from reaching

them, Mark happened to gaze over across a line of towering peaks. What

he saw caused him to gasp in astonishment.

 

“Jack! Andy! See!” he whispered hoarsely, pointing a trembling finger

at the sky.

 

There, outlined against the cloudless heavens, was a long, black shape,

floating through the air about two miles distant.

 

“The projectile! The Annihilator!” yelled Jack. “Shout! Call to them!

Wave your hands! Andy, fire your gun! They have started off, and they

can’t see us. We must make them hear!”

 

Together they raised their voices in a mighty shout. The old hunter

fired his gun several times. They waved their hands frantically.

 

But the projectile never swerved from its course. On it moved slowly,

those in it paying no heed to the wanderers, for they did not hear

them. Andy fired his gun again, but the signal failed, and a few

minutes later the Annihilator was lost to sight behind a great peak.

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