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The Stillness
OnthefourteenthdayIwentintothekitchen,andIwassurprisedtofindthatthefrondsoftheredweedhadgrownrightacrosstheholeinthewall,turningthehalf-lightoftheplaceintoacrimson-colouredobscurity.
ItwasearlyonthefifteenthdaythatIheardacurious,familiarsequenceofsoundsinthekitchen,and,listening,identifieditasthesnuffingandscratchingofadog. Goingintothekitchen,Isawadog’snosepeeringinthroughabreakamongtheruddyfronds. Thisgreatlysurprisedme. Atthescentofmehebarkedshortly.
IthoughtifIcouldinducehimtocomeintotheplacequietlyIshouldbeable,perhaps,tokillandeathim; andinanycase,itwouldbeadvisabletokillhim,lesthisactionsattractedtheattentionoftheMartians.
Icreptforward,saying "Gooddog!"verysoftly; buthesuddenlywithdrewhisheadanddisappeared.
Ilistened—Iwasnotdeaf—butcertainlythepitwasstill. Iheardasoundliketheflutterofabird’swings,andahoarsecroaking,butthatwasall.
ForalongwhileIlayclosetothepeephole,butnotdaringtomoveasidetheredplantsthatobscuredit. OnceortwiceIheardafaintpitter-patterlikethefeetofthedoggoinghitherandthitheronthesandfarbelowme,andthereweremorebirdlikesounds,butthatwasall. Atlength,encouragedbythesilence,Ilookedout.
Exceptinthecorner,whereamultitudeofcrowshoppedandfoughtovertheskeletonsofthedeadtheMartianshadconsumed,therewasnotalivingthinginthepit.
