The sun had set now, but a fading glory remained in the sky. They saw the slenderest, barest crescent of a new moon practically hidden in the sunset glow. They walked upon a civilized road, with a fence on one side of it and above it a single sagging telephone wire that could be made out against the stars.
"I feel," said Jill, "as if we were almost safe, now. All this looks so ordinary and reassuring."
"But we'd better keep our noses alert," Lockley told her. "We know that one beam comes nearly this far and probably—no, certainly crosses this road. There may be more."
"Oh, yes," agreed Jill. Then she said irrelevantly, "I'll bet they do make him a sort of—ambassador to our government to arrange for making friends. He'll be able to convince them!"
Again she referred to Vale. Lockley said nothing.
Night was now fully fallen. There were myriad stars overhead. They saw the telephone wire dipping between poles against the sky's brightness. They passed an open gate where another telephone wire led away, doubtless to another farmhouse. But if there was no one at the other end of a telephone line, there was no point in using a phone.
There came a rumbling noise behind them. They stared at one another in the starlight. The rumbling approached.
"It—can't be!" said Jill, marvelling.
"It's a motor," said Lockley. He could not feel complete relief. "Sounds like a truck. I wonder—"
He felt uneasiness. But it was absurd. Only human beings would use motor trucks.