POINTS OF VIEW
"Yes. They must have carried us from outside."
"I'd rather be carried by a fly across a ceiling. Good Heavens!"
I resumed my destruction of the fungi. Then suddenly I saw something that struck me even then.
"Cavor," I said, "these chains are of gold!"
He was thinking intently, with his hands gripping his cheeks. He turned his head slowly and stared at me and, when I had repeated my words, at the twisted chain about his right hand. "So they are," he said, "so they are." His face lost its transitory interest even as he looked. He hesitated for a moment, then went on with his interrupted meditation. I sat for a space puzzling over the fact that I had only just observed this, until I considered the blue light in which we had been and which had taken all the colour out of the metal. And from that discovery started upon a train of thought that carried me wide and far. I forgot that I had just been asking what business we had in the moon. Gold. . .
It was Cavor who spoke first. "It seems to me that there are two courses open to us."
"Well?"
"Either we can attempt to make our way—fight our way if necessary—out to the exterior and then hunt for our sphere until either we find it or the cold of the night comes to kill us, or else———"
He paused. "Yes," I said, though I knew what was coming.
"We might attempt once more to establish some sort of understanding with the minds of the people in the moon."
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