Перші люди на Місяці

           “Icanhearthem,”Iguessedthetracingmeant,andthenitwasquiteunreadableforaspace.Thencamealittlestringofwordsthatwerequitedistinct:“adifferentsortofSelenitealtogether,whoappearstobedirectingthe—”Thewritingbecameamerehastyconfusionagain.

           “Theyhavelargerbraincases—muchlarger,andslendererbodies,andveryshortlegs.Theymakegentlenoises,andmovewithorganizeddeliberation...

           “AndthoughIamwoundedandhelplesshere,theirappearancestillgivesmehope.”ThatwaslikeCavor.“Theyhavenotshotatmeorattempted...injury.Iintend—”

           Thencamethesuddenstreakofthepencilacrossthepaper,andonthebackandedges—blood!

           AndasIstoodtherestupid,andperplexed,withthisdumbfoundingrelicinmyhand,somethingverysoftandlightandchilltouchedmyhandforamomentandceasedtobe,andthenathing,alittlewhitespeck,driftedathwartashadow.Itwasatinysnowflake,thefirstsnowflake,theheraldofthenight.

           Ilookedupwithastart,andtheskyhaddarkenedalmosttoblackness,andwasthickwithagatheringmultitudeofcoldlywatchfulstars.Ilookedeastward,andthelightofthatshrivelledworldwastouchedwithsombrebronze;westward,andthesunrobbednowbyathickeningwhitemistofhalfitsheatandsplendour,wastouchingthecraterrim,wassinkingoutofsight,andalltheshrubsandjaggedandtumbledrocksstoodoutagainstitinabristlingdisorderofblackshapes.Intothegreatlakeofdarknesswestward,avastwreathofmistwassinking.Acoldwindsetallthecratershivering.