room, instead of doing the work his country expected him to do. Halliday was a psychopathic case; his mind was full of a hundred and one imagined horrors and they kept him from doing his job. There was little wonder that he had been three years attempting to compile the information that should have been gathered in three months.
The man was so terrified of imagined dangers that he was helpless to act. Ward felt a moment of pity for him, the pity the brave invariably feel for the weak and cowardly. But he also felt a cold and bitter contempt for the man who had allowed his own fear and timidity to hold up the important work of accumulating data on this section of the planet. If he wasn't man enough to do the job, he should have at least been man enough to admit it.
Ward decided that the next day he'd have the thing out. He undressed slowly and stretched out on the narrow cot, but sleep was a long time in coming.
When he stepped from his room the next day he saw that Halliday was standing in the doorway gazing out over the dull gray Martian landscape.
"Aren't you taking quite a chance?" he asked, with heavy sarcasm.
Halliday ignored the gibe. "No. I made a careful check before I released the door lock and opened up. Did you sleep well?"
"Fair," Ward said. "How can you tell the days and nights here? Is there ever any change in the sky?"
Halliday shook his head. "Sometimes it gets a little darker, sometimes it's lighter. When you're tired you go to bed. That's the only standard we have." He shaded his eyes with his hand and stared for a long moment at the bleak, depressing horizon.
Looking over his shoulder, Ward noticed swirling humid mists drifting in the air and, above, huge massive clouds of dense blackness were gathering. He felt a peculiar electric tightness in the atmosphere.
Halliday closed and locked the door carefully.
"Might as well have breakfast," he said. "There's nothing else we can do today."
"Do we have to stay cooped up here all day?" Ward asked.
"I'm afraid so. This weather is ready to break any minute now, and when it does I intend to be behind a well-locked door."
Ward's lips curled slightly.
"Okay," he said quietly, "we'll wait for the monsoon to blow over. Then, Raspers or not, I'm going to work."
BUT four long days dragged by and there was no indication that the monsoon weather was prepared to break. Low dense clouds were massed overhead and the air was gusty with flurries of humid wind.
Halliday grew increasingly nervous. He spent every waking hour at the periscope in a constant study of the dark horizons and he said little to Ward.
Ward's impatience grew with every inactive moment.
"How much longer are we going to hide in here like scared rats?" he blazed finally. He paced furiously up and down the small room, glaring in rage at Halliday's stooped figure.
Halliday smiled nervously and removed his glasses. His fingers were trembling so violently that he almost dropped them to the floor.
"I can't even guess," he said shakily. "I was hoping that the monsoon would blow over, but I'm afraid we're in for it."
"You've been saying that ever since I arrived," Ward said bitterly.
