Authentic Science Fiction, December 1951 — page 52: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER SIX Survey For a moment you don’t believe it. It’s incredible the way he just disappears from view in a couple of seconds. Then you decide that Leeson needs your attention. ““ What’s happened?’’ you ask into the mike. “ What’s happened?’’ Leeson mimics. ‘‘ He sees a man fall into a snow pit and he asks what’s happened. Holy mackerel !”’ Then follows some more epithets on snow, the Moon and reporters at large. While it’s going on, you lie down flat and feel your way carefully forward. At one point your hand plunges down and touches something hard that’s vibrating. Leeson’s helmet! “All right,’’ you say to him. ‘‘ Stop beefing and reach a hand up here. I’ll pull you out.’ His language slackens as he does so. You grasp his hand and heave, thinking it’s a good job he had his helmet on with its oxygen supply. By now he’d probably be drowned or something. He comes out easily enough, his weight being only one-sixth normal, whereas your muscle power is. the same as on Earth. Very soon his natural good humour comes back and he’s laughing. ‘‘ After which little interlude,’ he says, ‘‘ let’s go gather snow—with care!’’ You do that. You both fill your bags with the stuff, which is very finely divided, almost like a powder. Then you get back up the crevice with them, a task that’s not at all simple and one that raises your temperature considerably above the flow level of your suit’s insulation. Sweat starts running off you. 50 comicbooks.com