It was at high noon by his Earth-time watch that Standish emerged into the glade. He stopped short, staring, then uttered a short cry.
Before him were buildings, low mushroom-like buildings arranged in a semi-circle. Fashioned of the same translucent rock he had seen on the cliff, they resembled the igloos of his own north country. Overhead a network of thick yellowish wire ran back and forth, separated at intervals by heavy white insulators.
He saw then that the structures were old. The wires hung slack, and in many places were broken in two. A heavy silk-like grass had sprung up in thick clumps between the buildings.
With steps suddenly grown heavy, Standish advanced to the nearest house. The rotting remnants of a wooden door hung from elliptical hinges.
Inside was desertion. There were no furnishings of any kind. Over everything lay a heavy coating of dust.
There were twelve buildings in the glade, and he examined them one by one. In one he found a skeleton with a skull of enormous size and three leg appendages instead of two. In the last a strange looking machine, partially dismantled, was mounted on the wall. Every detail of it, from the mildewed control panel to the eccentric wheels and cogs were unfamiliar to him. On the floor was a stone tablet covered with hieroglyphics.
But that was all!
Depression swept over Standish as he mentally supplied the missing details. Some race had been here long ago; a foreign race, for the glade was undoubtedly a temporary camp. The wire entanglement and the machine had been constructed as some sort of protection against the animal life of this planet.
But whoever these people were, they had come and gone!