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Chapter 18 — In the Sunlight

           Thecrestonwhichwesatwashigh,andcommandedawideprospectofthecraterlandscape,andwesawitnowallsereanddryinthelateautumnofthelunarafternoon.Risingonebehindtheotherwerelongslopesandfieldsoftrampledbrownwherethemooncalveshadpastured,andfarawayinthefullblazeofthesunadroveofthembaskedslumberously,scatteredshapes,eachwithablotofshadowagainstitlikesheeponthesideofadown.ButneverasignofaSelenitewastobeseen.Whethertheyhadfledonouremergencefromtheinteriorpassages,orwhethertheywereaccustomedtoretireafterdrivingoutthemooncalves,Icannotguess.AtthetimeIbelievedtheformerwasthecase.

           “Ifweweretosetfiretoallthisstuff,”Isaid,“wemightfindthesphereamongtheashes.”

           Cavordidnotseemtohearme.Hewaspeeringunderhishandatthestars,thatstill,inspiteoftheintensesunlight,wereabundantlyvisibleinthesky.“Howlongdoyouthinkwe’vehavebeenhere?”heaskedatlast.

           “Beenwhere?”

           “Onthemoon.”

           “Twoearthlydays,perhaps.”

           “Morenearlyten.Doyouknow,thesunispastitszenith,andsinkinginthewest.Infourdays’timeorlessitwillbenight.”

           “But—we’veonlyeatenonce!”

           “Iknowthat.And—Buttherearethestars!”

           “Butwhyshouldtimeseemdifferentbecauseweareonasmallerplanet?”

           “Idon’tknow.Thereitis!”

           “Howdoesonetelltime?”

           “Hunger—fatigue—allthosethingsaredifferent.Everythingisdifferent—everything.

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