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The Days of Imprisonment

           Itwasonthethirdday,ifmymemoryservesmeright,thatIsawtheladkilled. ItwastheonlyoccasiononwhichIactuallysawtheMartiansfeed. AfterthatexperienceIavoidedtheholeinthewallforthebetterpartofaday. Iwentintothescullery,removedthedoor,andspentsomehoursdiggingwithmyhatchetassilentlyaspossible; butwhenIhadmadeaholeaboutacoupleoffeetdeepthelooseearthcollapsednoisily,andIdidnotdarecontinue. Ilostheart,andlaydownonthesculleryfloorforalongtime,havingnospiriteventomove. AndafterthatIabandonedaltogethertheideaofescapingbyexcavation. 

           ItsaysmuchfortheimpressiontheMartianshadmadeuponmethatatfirstIentertainedlittleornohopeofourescapebeingbroughtaboutbytheiroverthrowthroughanyhumaneffort. ButonthefourthorfifthnightIheardasoundlikeheavyguns. 

           Itwasverylateinthenight,andthemoonwasshiningbrightly. TheMartianshadtakenawaytheexcavating-machine,and,saveforafighting-machinethatstoodintheremoterbankofthepitandahandling-machinethatwasburiedoutofmysightinacornerofthepitimmediatelybeneathmypeephole,theplacewasdesertedbythem. Exceptforthepaleglowfromthehandling-machineandthebarsandpatchesofwhitemoonlightthepitwasindarkness,and,exceptfortheclinkingofthehandling-machine,quitestill. Thatnightwasabeautifulserenity; saveforoneplanet,themoonseemedtohavetheskytoherself. Iheardadoghowling,andthatfamiliarsounditwasthatmademelisten. ThenIheardquitedistinctlyaboomingexactlylikethesoundofgreatguns. SixdistinctreportsIcounted,andafteralongintervalsixagain. Andthatwasall. 

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Roboto Lora
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