And since the five shots seemed to have no effect whatever upon the steady progress of the shack, he decided to wait until he could see where to aim.

There was no use, he reflected, in wasting good ammunition when there was a strong probability that he would need it later.
After a half hour or more of continuous travel, the shack tilted on a steep descent.

H.J.Owens blew out his lamp and swore when a box came sliding against his shins in the dark.

The descent continued until it was stopped with a jolt that made him bite his tongue painfully, so that tears came into the eyes that were the wrong shade of blue to please Andy Green.

He heard a laugh cut short and a muttered command, and that was all.