into lower and lower forms of life, until these pitiful insane things, who now swarm on this world, are their last descendants.
"This world is a world of deadly horror! A world that somehow damages the genes of our race's bodies and changes them bodily and mentally, making them degenerate further each generation. Before us we see the awful result."
The shaken thought of another Arctarian asked, "But what can we do now?"
"There is nothing we can do," uttered their leader solemnly. "This degeneration, this awful change, has gone too far for us ever to reverse it now.
"Our intelligent brothers became on this poisoned world things of horror and we cannot now turn back the clock and restore them from the degraded things their descendants are."
Woodin found his voice and cried out thinly, shrilly.
"It isn't true!" he cried. "It's all a lie, what I saw! We humans aren't the product of downward devolution, we're the product of ages of upward evolution! We must be, I tell you! Why, we wouldn't want to live, I wouldn't want to live, if that other tale was true. It can't be true!"
The thought of the Arctarian leader, directed at the other amorphous shapes, reached his raving mind.
It was tinged with pity, yet strong with a superhuman loathing.
"Come, my brothers," the Arctarian was saying to his fellows. "There is nothing we can do here on this soul-sickening world.
"Let us go, before we too are poisoned and changed. And we will send warning to Arctar that this world is a poisoned world, a world of degeneration, so that never again may any of our race come here and go down the awful road that those others went down.
"Come! We return to our own sun."
The Arctarian leader's humped shape flattened, assumed a disk-like form, then rose smoothly upward into the air.
The others too changed and followed, in a group, and a stupefied Woodin stared up at them, glistening dots lifting rapidly into the starlight.
He staggered forward a few steps, shaking his fist insanely up at the shining, receding dots.
"Come back, damn you!" he screamed. "Come back and tell me it's a lie!
"It must be a lie—it must—"
There was no sign of the vanished Arctarians now in the starlit sky. The darkness was brooding and intense around Woodin.
He screamed up again into the night but only a whispering echo answered. Wild-eyed, staggering, soul-smitten, his gaze fell on the pistol in Ross' hand. He seized it with a hoarse cry.
The stillness of the forest was broken suddenly by a sharp crack, that reverberated a moment and then died rapidly away. Then all was silent again save for the chuckling whisper of the river hurrying on.
THE END
