"Do you think there is anything that could keep me from coming back ?" he whispered.
She trembled, wide eyes searching deep into his.
"Well," I broke in, a bit uncomfortably, "we'd better be starting.
I think as Drake does, that we're tabu.

Barring accident there's no danger.

And if I guess right about these Things, accident is impossible." "As inconceivable as the multiplication table going wrong," he laughed, straightening.
And so we made ready.

Our rifles would be worse than useless, we knew; our pistols we decided to carry as Drake put it, "for comfort." Canteens filled with water; a couple of emergency rations, a few instruments, including a small spectroscope, a selection from the medical kit--all these packed in a little haversack which he threw over his broad shoulders.
I pocketed my compact but exceedingly powerful field-glasses.

To my poignant and everlasting regret my camera had been upon the bolting pony, and Ventnor had long been out of films for his.
We were ready for our journey.
Our path led straight away, a smooth and dark-gray road whose surface resembled cement packed under enormous pressure.