2. A smooth-walled recess in the sheer face of a cliff. 3. A level lip of rock, as precisely flat as though honed, from which the arches seemed to grow. "Is this all?" Mr. Tucker asked. "Yes, sir," Captain Meford said. Mr. Ryan came to the viewing section. "It looks," he said, "as though the cliff were split down to here and then hewn away to leave the structures there and the apron." "We found no tools, sir. There were no tools here, nor with them." "Nothing else at all?" "They left behind some four hundred chips of stone, apparently numbered. We have them in the dome. And there's a two-line inscription on one of the arches. There's nothing else." High above the men and the ship, the new wind sang in one of the inverted bowls and fluttered lightly over the inscription. It, like the face of the cliff, was oxidizing. Dust filtered down before the recess, alien symbols falling. Life is the recording angel of time. Without life, all ceases. "Dust," Mr. Tucker said. "Dust ... dust ... more dust. Soon the dust will be over everything. When the wind is gone, it will be there to hold our footprints." Inside the air-conditioned scout, the men shivered. "How did you come to find them?" Mr. Ryan asked. "I saw the constructions from the photos, sir. This had been missed by the mapping party. It's easy enough to see why when you see the pictures." "This the only one?" "Yes, sir." "How can you be sure of that, Captain Meford? It's a large planet." "I had one of the machines scan the remaining maps for geometrical patterns, sir." "Isn't that done routinely?" Mr. Tucker asked rather sharply. "Yes, sir. But you see, we've always expected that if we were ever going to encounter intelligent life on a planet, it would be rather widespread. Accordingly--and this is the routine procedure, sir, used, as far as I know, by all contact parties--we ran through a statistically significant sample of the terrain. There was nothing on Miracastle out of the ordinary. There was the typical, low-order vegetable matter, about what we always find. It was a very typical planet, sir." The third man from the Earth Committee, Mr. Wallace, seldom spoke. When he did, his voice was mild, and there was a sense of child-like wonder in his tone. "The natives?" he asked. "They ... had fled when we discovered the city." "Where did they flee to?" Mr. Wallace asked. * * * * * Captain Meford glanced upward. Other eyes followed to end just below the edge of the view screen. Above stood the sheer face of the cliff. Clouds roiled below the summit, obscuring it from view.