"How do we keep them together?" asked Roger.
"With this!" said Tom. He began ripping his space cloth into long
strips. Astro and Roger tugged at the first beam. At last they had it in
the water.
"It floats," cried Astro. Tom and Roger couldn't help but shout for joy.
They quickly hauled the remaining beams into the water and lashed them
together. Without hesitation, they shoved the raft into the canal,
climbing aboard and standing like conquering heroes, as the raft moved
out into the main flow of the canal and began to drift forward.
"I dub thee--_Polaris the Second_," said Tom in formal tones and gave
the nearest beam a kick.
Astro and Roger gave a lusty cheer.
Steadily, silently, the raft bore them through the never-changing scene
of the canal's muddy banks and the endlessness of the desert beyond.
Protecting themselves from the sun during the day by repeated dunkings
in the water, they traveled day and night in a straight course down the
center of the canal. At night, the tiny moon, Deimos, climbed across the
desert and reflected light upon the satin-smooth water.
The third day on the raft they began to feel the pangs of hunger. And
where during their march through the desert, their thoughts were of
water, now visions of endless tables of food occupied their thoughts. At
first, they talked of their hunger, dreaming up wild combinations of
dishes and giving even wilder estimates of how much each could consume.
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