It was ready for a pressure test. There were a few leaks to patch and they were ready to move in. The whole job had taken less than two ‘days'.

The Dog House was to be Art's radio shack, but that was not all. It was to be also a storeroom for everything they could possibly spare from the ship, everything not necessary to the brief trip back. The cargo space would then be made available for specimens to take back to earth, even if the specimens were no more than country rock, lunar style.

But to Cargraves and to the three it was more than a storeroom, more than a radio shack. They were moving their personal gear into it, installing the hydroponic tank for the rhubarb plants to make the atmosphere self-refreshing, fitting it out as completely as possible for permanent residence.

To them it was a symbol of man's colonization of this planet, his intention to remain permanently, to fit it to his needs, and wrest a living from it.

Even though circumstances required them to leave it behind them in a few days, they were declaring it to be their new home, they were hanging up their hats.

They celebrated the completion of it with a ceremony which Cargraves had deliberately delayed until the Dog House was complete. Standing in a semicircle in front of the little door, they were addressed by Cargraves:

"As commander of this expedition, duly authorized by a commission of the United Nations and proceeding in a vessel of United States registry, I take possession of this planet as a colony, on behalf of the United Nations of earth in accordance with the laws thereof and the laws of the United States. Run ‘em up, Ross!"

On a short and slender staff the banner of the United Nations and the flag of the United States whipped to the top. No breeze disturbed them in that airless waste—but Ross had taken the forethought to stiffen the upper edges of each with wire; they showed their colors.

Cargraves found himself gulping as he watched the flag and banner hoisted. Privately he thought of this little hole in the ground as the first building of Luna City. He imagined that in a year or so there would be dozens of such cave dwellings, larger and better equipped, clustered around this spot. In them would live prospectors, scientists, and tough construction workers. Workers who would be busy building the permanent Luna City down under the floor of the crater, while other workers installed a great rocket port up on the surface.

Nearby would be the beginnings of the Cargraves Physical Laboratory, the Galileo Lunar Observatory.

He found that tears were trickling down his cheeks; he tried futilely to wipe them away through his helmet. He caught Ross's eye and was embarrassed. "Well, sports," he said with forced heartiness, "let's get to work. Funny," he added, looking at Ross, "what effect a few little symbols can have on a man."

Ross looked from Cargraves to the bits of gay bunting. "I don't know," he said slowly. "A man isn't a collection of chemical reactions; he is a collection of ideas."

Cargraves stared. His "boys" were growing up!

"When do we start exploring?" Morrie wanted to know. "Any reason why we shouldn't get going, now that the Dog House is finished?"

"Before long, I think," Cargraves answered uncomfortably. He had been stalling Morrie's impatience for the last couple of days; Morrie was definitely disappointed that the rocket ship was not to be used, as originally planned, for point to point exploration. He felt confident that he could repeat his remarkable performance in making the first landing.

Cargraves, on the other hand, was convinced that a series of such landings would eventually result in a crash, leaving them marooned to starve or suffocate even if they were not killed in the crash. Consequently he had not budged from his decision to limit exploradon to trips on foot, trips which could not be more than a few hours in duration.

"Let's see how Art is getting on," he suggested. "I don't want to leave him behind—he'll want to take pictures. On the other hand, he needs to get on with his radio work. Maybe we can rally around and furnish him with some extra hands."

"Okay." They crawled through the air lock and entered the Dog House. Art and Ross had already gone inside.

"Art," Cargraves inquired when he had taken off his clumsy suit, "how long will it be until you are ready to try out your Earth sender?"

"Well, I don't know, Uncle. I never did think we could get through with the equipment we've got. If we had been able to carry the stuff I wanted-"

"You mean if we had been able to afford it," put in Ross. "Well... anyhow, I've got another idea. This place is an electronics man's dream—all that vacuum! I'm going to try to gimmick up some really big power tubes—only they won't be tubes. I can just mount the elements out in the open without having to bother with glass. It's the easiest way to do experimental tube design anybody ever heard of."

"But even so," Morrie pointed out, "that could go on indefinitely. Doc, you've got us scheduled to leave in less than ten earth-days. Feel like stretching the stay?" he added hopefully.

"No, I don't," Cargraves stated. "Hmmm... Art, let's skip the transmitter problem for a moment. After all, there isn't any law that says we've got to establish radio contact with the earth. But how long would it take to get ready to receive from the earth?"

"Oh, that!" said Art. "They have to do all the hard work for that. Now that I've got everything up here I can finish that hook-up in a couple of hours."

"Fine! We'll whip up some lunch."

It was nearer three hours when Art announced he was ready to try. "Here goes," he said. "Stand by."

They crowded around. "What do you expect to get?" Ross asked eagerly.

Art shrugged. "Maybe nothing. NAA, or Berlin Sender, if they are beamed on us. I guess Radio Paris is the best bet, if they are still trying for us." He adjusted his controls with the vacant stare that always came over him.

They all kept very quiet. If it worked, it would be a big moment in history, and they all knew it.

He looked suddenly startled.

"Got something?"

He did not answer for a moment. Then he pushed a phone off one ear and said bitterly, "One of you guys left the power on your walky-talky."

Cargraves checked the suits himself. "No, Art, they are all dead."

Art looked around the little room. "But... but...here's nothing else it could be. Somebody is nuts!"

"What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? I'm getting a power hum from somewhere and it's from somewhere around here... close!"

"ARE YOU sure?," CARGRAVES demanded.

"Of course I'm sure!"

"It's probably Radio Paris," Ross suggested. "You don't know how far away it is."

Art looked indignant. "Suppose you sit down here and try your luck, Mr. de Forrest. It was close. It couldn't have been an earth station."

"Feed back?"

"Don't be silly!" He tried fiddling with his dials a bit more. "It's gone now."

"Just a minute," said Cargraves. "We've got to be sure about this. Art, can you get any sort of a transmitter rigged?"

"Not very easy, but yes, I can, too. The homing set is all set to go." The homing set was a low-power transmitter intended simply for communication between the Dog House and any member of the party outside in a suit.

"Gimme half a second to hook it up." It took more than half a second but shortly he was leaning toward the microphone, shouting, "Hello! Hello! Is there anybody there! Hello!"

"He must have been dreaming," Morrie said quietly to Cargraves. "There couldn't be anybody out there."

"Shut up," Art said over his shoulder and went back to calling, "Hello! Hello, hello."

His expression suddenly went blank, then he said sharply, "Speak English! Repeat!"