Перші люди на Місяці

           Saveforthefaintstiroftheshrubaboutmeinthelittlebreezethatwasrising,therewasnosoundnorshadowofasound.Andthebreezeblewchill.

           ConfoundCavor!

           Itookadeepbreath.Iputmyhandstothesidesofmymouth.“Cavor!”Ibawled,andthesoundwaslikesomemanikinshoutingfaraway.

           Ilookedatthehandkerchief,Ilookedbehindmeatthebroadeningshadowofthewestwardcliff,Ilookedundermyhandatthesun.Itseemedtomethatalmostvisiblyitwascreepingdownthesky.

           IfeltImustactinstantlyifIwastosaveCavor.Iwhippedoffmyvestandflungitasamarkontheserebayonetsoftheshrubsbehindme,andthensetoffinastraightlinetowardsthehandkerchief.Perhapsitwasacoupleofmilesaway—amatterofafewhundredleapsandstrides.Ihavealreadytoldhowoneseemedtohangthroughthoselunarleaps.IneachsuspenseIsoughtCavor,andmarvelledwhyheshouldbehidden.IneachleapIcouldfeelthesunsettingbehindme.EachtimeItouchedthegroundIwastemptedtogoback.

           AlastleapandIwasinthedepressionbelowourhandkerchief,astride,andIstoodonourformervantagepointwithinarms’reachofit.Istoodupstraightandscannedtheworldaboutme,betweenitslengtheningbarsofshadow.Faraway,downalongdeclivity,wastheopeningofthetunnelupwhichwehadfled,andmyshadowreachedtowardsit,stretchedtowardsit,andtouchedit,likeafingerofthenight.

           NotasignofCavor,notasoundinallthestillness,onlythestirandwavingofthescrubandoftheshadowsincreased.AndsuddenlyandviolentlyIshivered.