ith midnight
brawls and skull-cracking escapades. You see the towns in the desert,
the law-enforcement committees, the camp followers, the reform fanatics.

You're a sober-minded scholar, so you start digging in the ruins. You
bring up odd-looking cylinders, rolls of threaded film, instruments of
science so complex they make you giddy.

You wonder about the Martians--what they were like when they were a
young and proud race. If you're an archaeologist you wonder. But Bill
and I--we were youngsters still. Oh, sure, we were in our thirties, but
who would have suspected that? Bill looked twenty-seven and I hadn't a
gray hair in my head.

III

Bill nodded at Harry. "You'd better stay here. Tom and I will be asking
some pointed questions, and our first move will depend on the answers we
get. Don't let anyone come snooping around this shack. If anyone sticks
his head in and starts to turn ugly, warn him just once--then shoot to
kill." He handed Harry a gun.

Harry nodded grimly and settled himself on the floor close to Ned. For
the first time since I'd known him, Harry looked completely sure of
himself.

As we emerged from the shack the whispering was so loud the entire camp
had been placed on the alert. There would be no need for us to go into
shack after shack, watching surprise and shock come into their eyes.

A dozen or more men were between Bill's shack and the well. They were
staring grimly at the dawn, as if they could already see blood on the
sky, spilling over on the sand and spreading out in a sinister pool at
their feet. A mirage-like pool mirroring their own hidden forebodings,
mirroring a knotted rope and the straining shoulders of men too vengeful
to know the meaning of restraint.

Jim Kenny stood apart and alone, about forty feet from the well, staring
straight at us. His shirt was open at the throat, exposing a patch of
hairy chest, and his big hands were wedged deeply into his belt. He
stood about six feet three, very powerful, and with large feet.

I nudged Bill's arm. "What do you think?" I asked.

Kenny did seem a likely suspect. Molly had caught his eye right from the
start, and he had lost no time in pursuing her. A guy like Kenny would
have felt that losing out to a man of his own breed would have been a
terrible blow to his pride. But just imagine Kenny losing out to a
little guy like Ned. It would have infuriated him and glazed his eyes
with a red film of hate.

Bill answered my questi