Frank W. Coggins

“ A ship of this size handled by only two men." Then he sat down to a repast laid out by one of the awed spacemen.
But, after nibbling a bit of this, a forkful of that, he found that satisfaction lay in the anticipation more so than in the eating.
"We'll look around and see what we can find in the way of clothing for you, Professor," one of the spacemen said. Then the man's bemusement returned. His eyes traveled over the magnificent physique before him. The perfect giant of a man; the great, Apollo-like head with the calm, clear eyes; the expression of complete contentment and serenity. ”

“ Professor Pettibone waved a hand. "There—in the graveyard."
But their eyes remained on the only survivor of that ill-fated first expedition. It was hard to accept him as the man they sought, but, faced with undeniable similarity between what they expected and what they had found, the two spacemen had no alternative.
"I hope your food supply is ample—and varied," Professor Pettibone said.
This seemed to bring them out of their bemusement. "Of course, Professor. Would you care to come aboard?"
The other made a try at congenial levity. "You must be pretty hungry after twenty years." ”

“ The two men held weapons. They advanced upon Professor Pettibone, looked up into his face, reflected a certain wary hostility. That the hostility was tinged with instinctive respect, even awe, made it no less potent.
One of them asked, "Fella—man came in ship—sky boat—long time ago. Him dead? Where?" Appropriate gestures accompanied the words.
Professor Pettibone smiled down at the little men and bowed. "You are of course referring to me. I came in the ship. I am Professor Pettibone. It was nice of you to hunt me up."
The eyes of the two Terran spacemen met and locked in startled inquiry. ”