Война миров
How I Fell in with the Curate
"Isawithappen."Iproceededtotellhim. "Wehavechancedtocomeinforthethickofit,"saidI,"andthatisall."
"Whatisthatflickerinthesky?"heaskedabruptly.
Itoldhimitwastheheliographsignalling—thatitwasthesignofhumanhelpandeffortinthesky.
"Weareinthemidstofit,"Isaid,"quietasitis. Thatflickerintheskytellsofthegatheringstorm. Yonder,ItakeitaretheMartians,andLondonward,wherethosehillsriseaboutRichmondandKingstonandthetreesgivecover,earthworksarebeingthrownupandgunsarebeingplaced. PresentlytheMartianswillbecomingthiswayagain."
AndevenasIspokehesprangtohisfeetandstoppedmebyagesture.
"Listen!"hesaid.
Frombeyondthelowhillsacrossthewatercamethedullresonanceofdistantgunsandaremoteweirdcrying. Theneverythingwasstill. Acockchafercamedroningoverthehedgeandpastus. HighinthewestthecrescentmoonhungfaintandpaleabovethesmokeofWeybridgeandSheppertonandthehot,stillsplendourofthesunset.
"Wehadbetterfollowthispath,"Isaid,"northward."
