Cochrane nodded reluctantly.

“Of course there’s this burned-off space for a marker,” he observed cheerfully.  “But it could take several days for them to see it.”

Babs swallowed again.  She said carefully: 

“The—­ship can’t hover like a helicopter, to search.  You said so.  It doesn’t have fuel enough.  They can’t really search for us at all!  The only way to make a real search would be to go back to Earth and—­bring back helicopters and fuel for them and men to fly them....  Isn’t that right?”

“Not necessarily.  But we do have to figure on a matter of—­well—­two or three days as a possibility.”

Babs moistened her lips and he said quickly: 

“I did a show once about some miners lost in a wilderness.  A period show.  In it, they knew that part of their food was poisoned.  They didn’t know what.  They had to have all their food.  And of course they didn’t have laboratories with which to test for poison.”

Babs eyed him oddly.

“They bandaged their arms,” said Cochrane, “and put scraps of the different foodstuffs under the bandages.  The one that was poisonous showed.  It affected the skin.  Like an allergy-test.  I’ll try that trick in the morning when there’s light to pick samples by.  There are berries and stuff.  There must be fruits.  A few hours should test them.”

Babs said without intonation: 

“And we can watch what the animals eat.”

Cochrane nodded gravely.  Animals on Earth can live on things that—­to put it mildly—­humans do not find satisfying.  Grass, for example.  But it was good for Babs to think of cheering things right now.  There would be plenty of discouragement to contemplate later.

There was a flicker of brightness in the sky.  Presently the earth quivered.  Something made a plaintive, “waa-waa-waaaaa!” sound off in the night.  Something else made a noise like the tinkling of bells.  There was an abstracted hooting presently, which now was nearby and now was far away, and once they heard something which was exactly like the noise of water running into a pool.  But the source of that particular burbling moved through the dark wood beyond the clearing.

It was not wholly dark where they were, even aside from their own small fire.  The burning trees in the departing ship’s rocket-trail sent up a column of white which remaining flames illuminated.  The remarkably primitive camp Cochrane had made looked like a camp on a tiny snow-field, because of the ashes.

“We’ve got to think about shelter,” said Babs presently, very quietly indeed.  “If there are glaciers, there must be winter here.  If there is winter, we have to find out which animals we can eat, and how to store them.”

“Hold on!” protested Cochrane.  “That’s looking too far ahead!”

Babs clasped her hands together.  It could have been to keep their trembling from being seen.  Cochrane was regarding her face.  She kept that under admirable control.