Перші люди на Місяці
Chapter 19 — Mr. Bedford Alone
“Cav—”Ibegan,andrealisedoncemoretheuselessnessofthehumanvoiceinthatthinair.Silence.Thesilenceofdeath.
Thenitwasmyeyecaughtsomething—alittlethinglying,perhapsfiftyyardsawaydowntheslope,amidstalitterofbentandbrokenbranches.Whatwasit?Iknew,andyetforsomereasonIwouldnotknow.Iwentnearertoit.Itwasthelittlecricket-capCavorhadworn.Ididnottouchit,Istoodlookingatit.
Isawthenthatthescatteredbranchesaboutithadbeenforciblysmashedandtrampled.Ihesitated,steppedforward,andpickeditup.
IstoodwithCavor’scapinmyhand,staringatthetrampledreedsandthornsaboutme.Onsomeofthemwerelittlesmearsofsomethingdark,somethingthatIdarednottouch.Adozenyardsaway,perhaps,therisingbreezedraggedsomethingintoview,somethingsmallandvividlywhite.
Itwasalittlepieceofpapercrumpledtightly,asthoughithadbeenclutchedtightly.Ipickeditup,andonitweresmearsofred.Myeyecaughtfaintpencilmarks.Ismootheditout,andsawunevenandbrokenwritingendingatlastinacrookedstreakuponthepaper.
Isetmyselftodecipherthis.
“Ihavebeeninjuredabouttheknee,Ithinkmykneecapishurt,andIcannotrunorcrawl,”itbegan—prettydistinctlywritten.
Thenlesslegibly:“Theyhavebeenchasingmeforsometime,anditisonlyaquestionof”—theword“time”seemedtohavebeenwrittenhereanderasedinfavourofsomethingillegible—“beforetheygetme.Theyarebeatingallaboutme.”
Thenthewritingbecameconvulsive.
