Except in the corner, where a multitude of crows hopped and fought
over the skeletons of the dead the Martians had consumed, there was
not a living thing in the pit.

I stared about me, scarcely believing my eyes.  All the machinery
had gone.  Save for the big mound of greyish-blue powder in one
corner, certain bars of aluminium in another, the black birds, and the
skeletons of the killed, the place was merely an empty circular pit in
the sand.

Slowly I thrust myself out through the red weed, and stood upon the
mound of rubble.  I could see in any direction save behind me, to the
north, and neither Martians nor sign of Martians were to be seen.  The
pit dropped sheerly from my feet, but a little way along the rubbish
afforded a practicable slope to the summit of the ruins.  My chance of
escape had come.  I began to tremble.