Mark Lynn let his mind be passive. Contact with the alien intelligence had been made; the jewel in his hand was now a burst of radiance, as he traversed the valley in the direction of the cavern country, and at last he was before the gigantic mass of cliffs he sought. He entered a low, gallery-like cave that wound downwards into the bowels of the cliff, following the twisting turns as the gallery widened and the luminescent walls became even more luminous, until at the end of a turn a burst of radiance met his eyes and he was once more in the grotto of titanic proportions lighted by the glaucous radiance, like the green light beneath the waters of a shallow sea. At his feet, crystalline and powdery, the entire floor of the grotto was covered by oxide as far as his eyes could see. Mark had the odd sensation of living a part of his life over again. He waited in silence.
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Mark knew that thousands of burning beryl eyes were peering at him from concealed openings in the walls; he felt the mental rapport with their leader that was rapidly absorbing from his mind all that could be obtained. The wait was interminable. At last, a silvery-grey, furred being, was before Mark, seemingly having come from nowhere. Its exquisite triangular face, with the wide-set beryl eyes and broad forehead, was startlingly human.
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