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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 214/287
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Across
the
ancient
sea
floor
a
dozen
tall
,
blue
-
sailed
Martian
sand
ships
floated
,
like
blue
ghosts
,
like
blue
smoke
.
"
Sand
ships
!
But
there
aren
’
t
any
more
,
Elma
,
no
more
sand
ships
.
"
"
Those
seem
to
be
sand
ships
,
"
she
said
.
"
But
the
authorities
confiscated
all
of
them
!
They
broke
them
up
,
sold
some
at
auction
!
I
’
m
the
only
one
in
this
whole
damn
territory
’
s
got
one
and
knows
how
to
run
one
.
"
"
Not
any
more
,
"
she
said
,
nodding
at
the
sea
.
"
Come
on
,
let
’
s
get
out
of
here
!
"
"
Why
?
"
she
asked
slowly
,
fascinated
with
the
Martian
vessels
.
"
They
’
ll
kill
me
!
Get
in
our
truck
,
quick
!
"
Elma
didn
’
t
move
.
He
had
to
drag
her
around
back
of
the
stand
where
the
two
machines
stood
,
his
truck
,
which
he
had
used
steadily
until
a
month
ago
,
and
the
old
Martian
sand
ship
which
he
had
bid
for
at
auction
,
smiling
,
and
which
,
during
the
last
three
weeks
,
he
had
used
to
carry
supplies
back
and
forth
over
the
glassy
sea
floor
.
He
looked
at
his
truck
now
and
remembered
.
The
engine
was
out
on
the
ground
;
he
had
been
puttering
with
it
for
two
days
.
