Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
sag of the dust a visitor when he reached the Red Lion that evening. He had no stomach for mysteries, vast or trifling, and there were pressing things to think about at this time. Yet the doorman had flagged him as he came in from the street: “A thousand Too smoothly, it seemed to me, and the others seemed to think so, too. name. He said you’d want to see him. He will be back by about the quiet lounge. Street trade was discouraged at the Red Lion, gently but persuasively the patrons were few in number. Across to the right was a group that Baron knew vaguely—Andean climbers, or at least two of them were. Over near the door he recognized old Balmer, who had mapped eight.” returned his smile with a nod. Then he settled back and waited impatiently for the intruder who demanded his time without justifying it. Presently a small, grizzled man crossed the room and sat down at Baron’s table. He was short and wiry. His face held spotted him through the binocs, waving frantically from the without expression. Then he said slowly, “No, I’m afraid you’re “Say, who are you, if you don’t mind?” Baron demanded. and, for once, he didn’t have anything to say. It was the wreck of a Bug an old-fashioned half-track model of the sort that Claney?” “That’s right.” Peter two insulated suits with white bones gleaming through the Baron’s eyes were wide with excitement, all trace of anger fiberglass helmets. “Quit looking!” Baron bent forward over the table. “My friend, we’d given up hope, but we’ve never quit looking. Here, have a drink. There’s so much you can tell us.” His fingers were trembling. Peter Claney shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything you want to hear.” “But you’ve got to. You’re the only man on Earth who’s thick and tenacious, splattering around in steaming gobs as finger at Claney’s face. “That, for instance—epithelioma? have to know.” both quarters—but we just didn’t know what we were fighting. It was the that whipped us, that and the broad flat plateau, dodging a network of gaping surface cracks—winding . They’ll whip you, too, if you try it.” back and forth in an effort to keep the machines on blood, sure as death. for some years and hung onto the title after he gave up his commission. since the Matto Grasso. Then he made the attempt on Vulcan Crater that paved the way for Balmer a few years later. the sort of guy who always had things figured a little further ahead than anyone else and always knew what to do in a tight with no judgment. The Major had both. He also had the kind of personality that could take a crew of wild men and make them work like a well-oiled machine across a thousand He contacted me in New York and he was very casual at first. We spent an evening here at the Red Lion, talking about old times I told him one-thirty-five. “That much!” he said. “Well, there can’t be much fat on “No, I mean real heat.” “Brightside of Mercury,” the Major said. He threw his head back. “Why try a Crossing at aphelion? Mercury. I want Mercury—but I’ll need help getting it.” the Sun, which means that the Brightside is always facing in. That makes the Brightside of Mercury at perihelion the hottest place in the Solar System, with one single exception: the surface of the Sun itself. It would be a hellish trek. Only a few men had ever learned just how obvious jumping-off place. The setup there wasn’t very extensive—a rocket landing, the labs and quarters for Sanderson’s crew sunk deep into the crust, and the tower that housed of course—the Sun was Sanderson’s baby and he’d picked Mercury as the closest chunk of rock to the Sun that could Mercury, the Brightside temperature hits 770° F. at perihelion Brightside and Darkside offers something closer to survival is about five miles wide, so the temperature only varies 50 to 60 degrees with the libration. The Solar ’scope could take that too happy to hear that he was joining us. “Kind of a daredevil, isn’t he?” “Maybe. He’s lucky and skillful. Where do you draw the line? We’ll need plenty of both.” “Have you ever worked with him?” I asked. “No. Are you worried?” in hopes of getting a hop from there. He didn’t seem too upset about it, as though this were his usual way of doing things and he couldn’t see why everyone should get so excited. He was a tall, rangy man with long, wavy hair prematurely gray, and the sort of eyes that looked like a climber’s—half-closed, sleepy, almost indolent, but capable of abrupt alertness. “Of course.” Claney shrugged, glanced at the small quiet tables around them. “There are lots of bizarre personalities around a place like this, and some of the best wouldn’t seem to be the most reliable at first glance. Anyway, personality problems weren’t our big problem right then. Equipment have?” “The best insulating suits ever made,” said Claney. “Each one had an inner lining of a fiberglass modification, to avoid the clumsiness of asbestos, and carried the refrigerating unit surface that made us glitter like Christmas trees. And we had a half-inch dead-air space under positive pressure between “They were insulated, too, but we weren’t counting on them too much for protection.” and storage, but we knew we’d have to do a lot of forward work on foot.” Claney smiled bitterly. “Which meant Center exactly at perihelion, the point of Mercury’s closest approach to the Sun—which made Center the hottest part of “Peter, you’ll take the lead Bug, the small one we stripped “I guess it doesn’t,” said the Major. “Then you’ll flank “It sounds like I am,” I cut in. “We want to keep the lead Bug light as possible.” work. You need somebody out ahead—four or five miles, at least—to He stared at the Major. “I mean, how can we tell what sort of a hole we may be moving into, unless we have a scout up ahead?” “That’s what we have the charts for,” the Major said sharply. “But why not? We could save ourselves days!” means we stay within easy sight of each other at all times. Any climber knows that everybody is safer in a party than one man alone—any time, any place.” gave a sullen nod. “Okay. If you say so.” “Well, I say so and I mean it. I don’t want any fancy stuff. never forget that huge yellow Sun glaring down, without a bite. that glaring Sun and the baked yellow rocks going past, and a light aluminum sun-shield and lay out in the dust and rocks. The sun-shield cut the temperature down sixty or seventy degrees, for whatever help that was. And then we ate from the forward sledge—sucking through tubes—protein, carbohydrates, The Major measured water out with an iron hand, because we’d have drunk ourselves into nephritis in a week otherwise. We were constantly, unceasingly thirsty. Ask the physiologists eyes burned in spite of the filters and we had roaring headaches, but we couldn’t sleep them off. We sat around looking at each other. Then McIvers would say how good a beer would taste, and off we’d go. We’d have murdered our grandmothers for one ice-cold bottle of beer. After a few driving periods, I began to get my bearings at the wheel. We were moving down into desolation that made with black cliffs jutting up on either side with a barely visible yellowish mist of sulfur and sulfurous gases. It was a hot, barren hole, no place for any man to go, but itself.

<question>:
What is the Red Lion?

<options>:
A A gentlemen's club
B A restaurant
C A club for explorers and adventurers
D A bar

<answer>:

C