Seeing that the strangers
realized that they could not pass, the Martian officer and his
men lowered their sticks. He spoke to the travelers, and, though
they could not understand what he said, it was evident from his
gestures that he was advising them to return to the city.
"I think we'd better," said Mr. Henderson. "The red substance is
too well guarded for us to get any of it. Evidently they don't
want any of it taken away."
"I must get it!" insisted Mr. Roumann. "If not now, then later."
There was nothing for them to do save turn back, and the Martians
tried to smile pleasantly at them, as if sorry for what they were
obliged to do.
"We'll go back to the projectile," decided Mr. Henderson. "I am
a little anxious to see that it is all right."
They found that it was, though quite a throng had gathered about
to inspect it.
"Are we going to stay here, or go back to the house they let us
have?" asked Mark.
"I think we will live in the city," decided Mr. Roumann. "We can
learn more about the Martians there, begin to understand
something of their language, and be in a better position to get
some of that red stuff, than if we were out here.
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