"We could send a message by the rocket!" yelled Scott. "They always watch for them ... always hoping each one will carry something new. Some new thing from Mars. It's the only way we can get a message back to Earth."
"But they won't let us near," protested Hugh. "I've tried to get up close to the cradle when they were launching one and those machines always drove me away. Didn't hurt me ... but threatened."
"We have guns," said Scott.
"Guns," said Hugh, "wouldn't be worth a damn against them. The bullets would just glance off. Even explosive bullets wouldn't harm them."
"Sledges then," said Scott. "We'll make junk out of the damn things. We've got a couple of sledges in the ship."
Hugh looked at him levelly.
"Okay, kid, let's get going."
V
The machines paid them no attention. No higher than a man's waist, they curiously resembled grotesque spiders. Gangling rods and arms sprouted out all over them and from their trunks sprouted waving, steel antennae.