“Nice fauna here,” remarked Nick. “Did your party ever meet up with that beauty?”
Hartnett grinned. “In a way. But watch closely, now. There’s more to come.”
The bright cone rested motionless on the ridge, two of its three arms lying motionless. They couldn’t see the third, but supposed that it, too, was at rest. Unwinking, the huge eyes stared apparently upward.
But off in another direction what looked like a cloud was approaching. It drifted easily, dropping to the surface now and then and lazing along for a while, then rising up again. The size of it made them gasp. It seemed to be larger than the Columbia.
Now the cone-thing was aware of its approach and the bright arms was in play again. Like a fisherman casting after trout, the arms threw out. The cloud came on until it hovered over the cone-creature, then suddenly it dropped down enveloping it. An instant later it rose and the cone-creature was gone; the whitish cloud started to drift away.
But something was wrong. It didn’t move as easily as it had done before; it lurched in a distressed manner.
“What’s wrong with it?” murmured Nick.
“Look, it’s changing color,” cried Dorothy.
A rusty stain had suddenly appeared in the cloud. Before their eyes it grew rapidly, the core of it an angry red, the spreading stain rust. The cloud-thing rose up slowly, but the red spot grew. And as they watched, a bulge appeared in the red, grew like a blister and finally burst. From the cavity the brilliant arms of the cone-thing appeared, followed by the rest of the creature.