Part 6

To Robert the remarkable trip already seemed as a nightmare. As he looked out on the quiet, desolate scene in the deepening twilight, he could scarcely realize that they were not still on the Earth. For despite the desolation of the vast Martian desert stretching before his eyes, and the fact that he had never before even seen a desert except in pictures, his imagination balked when he tried to believe himself on a strange planet, millions of miles from the Earth. The idea was preposterous, absurd! Robert’s more deliberate self persisted in half suspecting that they had simply miscalculated, and had actually returned to the Earth at some remote spot.

“Boys, I’m going to try a whiff of our new atmosphere,” said the professor, unlatching one of the small portholes.

Before either of the others could interfere, he had swung the heavy glass slightly inward, and sniffed the Martian atmosphere speculatively.

Whatever fears they held were quickly dispelled by the look of relief which came over Professor Palmer’s countenance as he swung the port wide open and eagerly inhaled the outside atmosphere.

“It’s all right,” he cried. “The regular stuff! Come on and enjoy some fresh, Martian desert air.”

Robert and Taggert did not need to be urged. The air within the _Sphere_ seemed suddenly to have grown unbearably stale. With one accord they opened the other ports and filled their lungs with the sweet, cold air outside.

“We’ll have to close up again to keep warm tonight,” shivered Taggert.

“Thirty-four degrees above zero,” read Robert from the Fahrenheit thermometer outside.

“The air on these deserts cools very rapidly after twilight,” said the professor. “Even in the Sahara, on our own globe, the temperature frequently drops below freezing at night. However, the temperature in the canal belts should be more uniform.”

“Let’s get outside and look around a bit,” suggested Robert.

“Good idea,” echoed the reporter. “I’d like to see what some of these oafs look like.”

“Not likely to be any of them strolling around in the desert at night,” said Robert.

“Can’t tell; I’ll bet they didn’t fail to see the _Sphere_ when we slid over here. We’re likely to have an army down on us tonight.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Professor Palmer. “The Martians are obviously a people of much intelligence. I expect they will act just about as our own people would, should some curious machine land upon the Earth. They will probably wait till daylight, then come out and satisfy their curiosity.”

“And ours,” added Robert, remembering his dream.

As they stepped out upon the sand, buttoned into warm coats, a brilliant spectacle was presented to their gaze.

Low in the southeast Phobus hung like a glowing orange. Its now apparently smooth, bright disk was a decided contrast to the dark, threatening, cavernous face which had frightened them but a few hours earlier. All round them the indigo sky was studded with stars of the great brilliance that is reserved for travelers of the deserts. Behind them the comfortable flood of illumination from the _Sphere_ spread its friendly radiance over the sand.

“Look over there!” cried Taggert suddenly, pointing toward the east.

Far away on the horizon’s edge a diffused white glow shone steadily.

“A city,” guessed Robert quickly.

“A group of cities--a Martian oasis,” suggested the professor.

“Why, there are some lights along the canal, too,” said Robert, becoming aware of a number of lights stretching along the endless strip of fertile land to the south of them.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” cried Taggert. “Say, let’s run over to town tonight!”

But however sanguine the professor might have been regarding the existence of an intelligent race upon the planet, he balked at a precipitate invasion of their haunts right then. So it was decided to wait till morning for developments.

* * * * *

The lantern which Robert carried was almost superfluous in the bright starlight. They enjoyed the novelty of trudging about through the sand, after their extended confinement within the _Sphere_. In spite of the looseness and depth of the sand, they walked over it with amazing ease because of the decreased gravity on the smaller planet. Robert, for example, who weighed 150 pounds on earth, now weighed less than sixty pounds. Yet he retained his full strength, so that the task of walking was tremendously reduced.

“Run you a race, Robert,” called Taggert, starting out abruptly at a great pace.

The temptation was too great. Robert was a good runner and reveled in the sport. He dashed after the reporter.

His feet scarcely seemed to touch the sand as he raced after the fleeting shadow ahead of him. With giant strides, twenty feet long, he steadily reduced the distance between them.

Suddenly there came a dim shout ahead, followed by a dull thud--then, silence.

Robert slowed up as quickly as possible and looked round him. The reporter had disappeared!

Far in the rear the _Sphere_ shone brightly, like a beacon. Between it and himself he could see the professor’s lantern bobbing up and down as he strode along.

As he continued bewilderedly to search the sands for some sign of Taggert, his eyes became better accustomed to the semi-darkness.

Suddenly he descried a long dark shape lying in the sand several rods away.

He approached it cautiously, only to discover what seemed to be a large log. But as he looked up another dark object ahead caught his eye. Surely that looked like the figure of a man sprawled upon the sand. Even as he looked, it moved and struggled to a sitting posture.

“Hello--that you, Taggert, old fellow?” he sang out, approaching.

“It’s me all right,” came Taggert’s voice, weakly.

“What happened to you?”

“Fell over that dashed boulder back there. About knocked the wind out of me. I must have been going about forty miles an hour,” he explained, getting to his feet with Robert’s assistance.

“What are you two up to?” cried Professor Palmer, coming up with them.

“Our stowaway just tried to break his neck over a log back there.”

“A log?” incredulously from the now recovered reporter. “Say, this is a desert, not a jungle! That was a rock I fell over.”

They walked over to the object of their discussion, and examined it in the rays of the lantern.

“A petrified log,” pronounced Professor Palmer.

“Well, who brought it out here?”--belligerently.

“It grew here many centuries ago, my boy. This is a relic of a dead forest, of which we are probably on the edge. See, there are others scattered about over that way. I have seen the same thing out in Arizona.”

Their discussion ended, they decided to go back to the _Sphere_ and get a good night’s rest.

“Suppose some of these oafs have taken possession during our absence,” suggested Taggert, persisting still in so calling the as yet unseen Martians.

“If it hadn’t been for you young scamps it wouldn’t have been left unguarded,” retorted Professor Palmer.

But they found the _Sphere_ as they had left it, and no one in sight.

* * * * *

With lights out for greater safety, they spent a quiet night. All three were up again with the dawn.

The warm sunshine streamed in at the windows cheerfully. Soon the thermometer on the shady side registered forty-one degrees and was rising rapidly. It had dropped to twenty-five the night before when they retired.

An appetizing breakfast was prepared by Taggert, who had insisted upon being the official cook. The keen Martian air and a good night’s rest had brought them all ravenous appetites, and they did the simple repast full justice.

“Come to think about it,” mused Taggert, “the night passed mighty quickly. Professor, how long are the nights and days on Mars?”

“The night seemed to pass quickly because you slept soundly. It happens that a Martian night and day together consume just about twenty-four hours and forty minutes, our time. In other words, by an odd coincidence, Martian days and nights are each approximately but twenty minutes longer than those of the Earth.”

The professor’s last words were interrupted by Robert’s abruptly rising to his feet and pointing mutely out the window!

12

Moving swiftly toward them, about a quarter of a mile away, was a large conveyance which appeared to be occupied by about ten beings.

“Sink me, but these birds are certainly early risers,” grumbled Taggert. “Seems to me they might let us finish breakfast before calling. They’re no gentlemen, I say.”

Professor Palmer was eagerly studying them through binoculars.

“Just as I suspected,” he murmured presently. “They have features just like our own, and seem to be of nearly the same stature as ourselves. Let’s get ready to welcome them, boys. They don’t look like pirates.”

He put down the glasses and turned just in time to see Taggert concealing an automatic on his person. Evidently the reporter didn’t entirely share the professor’s faith in the Martians.

A few minutes later the conveyance drew up without. It came to a stop noiselessly, as though it were electrically propelled. Several of the dark-garbed occupants got out and walked toward the _Sphere_, removing their odd hats, which looked not unlike broad-brimmed tropical helmets.

Professor Palmer’s prediction proved correct. They were of ordinary human formation, and, indeed, looked much like a group of intelligent foreigners, with their olive skin and dark hair, though they were somewhat shorter in stature, averaging about five feet four inches in height.

Their clothing was simple, and evidently designed for comfort. All wore roomy, dark trousers, bound at the ankles, and small coats to match, not unlike vests with sleeves. Under these a lighter-hued blouse was worn. Neat but styleless shoes, with uppers that appeared to be finely woven grasses, clad their small feet. There was a total absence of bright color about their apparel, neutral shades of blue, gray and maroon predominating.

Professor Palmer opened one of the ports and leaned out. His appearance caused a brief flurry among their visitor, proving a signal for some hurried conversation, accompanied by excited gestures.

Then one of them walked forward and addressed him in a pleasant, soft, rolling tongue not unlike Spanish, but entirely unintelligible to the professor.

Professor Palmer answered by pointing obliquely upward in the general direction of the Earth at that time. Then he tapped the _Sphere_ significantly, and indicated an imaginary course from the Earth above back down to Mars with a slow sweep of his hand.

His audience seemed to grasp the fact that the _Sphere_ had come from a distant planet. In fact, it appeared that he had but confirmed some previous guess on their part. They nodded knowingly to each other as their spokesman resumed his own gesticulations in an effort to communicate with the professor, smiling in a friendly fashion and rubbing his Roman nose with a trace of self-consciousness as he proceeded to invite them, with elaborate gestures, to visit their country beyond.

His companions also pointed repeatedly toward the foliage in the distance, and to vacant seats in their vehicle.

“What do you think, boys?” asked the professor, turning to Robert and Taggert. “How about boosting the _Sphere_ over there? That will be better than leaving it out here where we can’t keep an eye on it.”

“Suits me,” Robert replied.

“That’s the stuff,” said Taggert. “Don’t let these dagos separate you from your return trip if you can help it.”

So with more gestures Professor Palmer explained their intentions to the Martians, who finally understood apparently and seemed satisfied.

By careful manipulation of the speed of the gyrostats and the disk shutters, Robert raised the _Sphere_ slowly to a height of about fifty feet. The Martians looked on in wonder from their conveyance, which, getting under way, preceded them across the floor of the desert.

The broad, flat wheels of this conveyance, notched to give greater traction, carried it over the sand at a good clip. Steering seemed to be controlled by an automatic dial-and-lever device, operated easily by the driver with one hand. The usual staggering of the front wheels through loose soil seemed entirely eliminated.

Contrary to their original impression, the floor of the desert in this direction was a stony, windswept waste with much bare rock visible. The faces of these rocks were polished by grains of sand blown across them by the winds of centuries. Here and there was one with fractured and crumbling surface, probably cracked by the rapid, alternate heating and chilling of the blazing rays of the sun and the cold nights, and not yet healed.

As the _Sphere_ drew near the fertile land, they observed that it was densely wooded with trees of varied height and foliage. From their close proximity to the ground it looked like a vast, boundless forest which might extend many miles beyond.

Professor Palmer had estimated the usual width of these irrigated strips at from one to several miles, though he had mentioned observing one of nearly twenty miles in width.

At the forest’s edge Robert brought the _Sphere_ to rest

Here they were in a quandary as to what to do about the _Sphere_. It was obvious that they could not study the life of the planet without leaving the _Sphere_. Yet they were naturally reluctant to trust it unguarded into the hands of these strange inhabitants.

“But we have already risked far more in our journey through space,” reasoned Robert. “We put ourselves in these people’s hands by coming here; now I suppose we may as well trust them. We could not expect a Martian, coming to the Earth as we have come to Mars, to drag his ‘_Sphere_’ after him everywhere he went.”

“Look here,” Taggert interjected, “I horned my way into this expedition uninvited. Now let me do something useful. I’ll stay here with the _Sphere_ until you can make some satisfactory arrangement for its safe keeping.”

“That may take several days, or more,” objected Robert.

“Well, what of it? Plenty to eat here. Just run along and leave it to little Hughie. I’ll stay on deck until you return or send me a written order; and I’ll feel a lot better about having done my bit.”

So it was finally agreed that Taggert remain on guard while Robert and the Professor went on to make suitable arrangements, if possible, with the authorities. They shook hands with the reporter and left him calmly smoking an atrocious pipe which he had not ventured to put in action during their long trip with sealed windows. He seemed genuinely comfortable and well pleased with his lot. Robert and the professor took seats in the waiting conveyance, which carried them over a winding road through the forest.

Professor Palmer recognized and pointed out to Robert certain varieties of trees and shrubbery resembling the tamarisk, acacia and eucalyptus, prickly pear and aspen poplar. The latter variety, which was singularly like the earthly specimen, predominated, and seemed to flourish luxuriantly in the loose, sandy soil.

“Not so bad,” said Robert, sniffing the sweet, clean air.

“A very healthful climate, indeed,” commented the professor.

Their evident satisfaction was observed with smiles and nods by their hosts, who were watching them closely.

* * * * *

They had probably passed through a mile of the great forest when they emerged into a large, rectangular clearing.

“Why, there’s a railroad!” cried Robert excitedly, pointing to what looked very like a double line of tracks running through the center of the long clearing.

A moment later Robert’s statement was proved to be true, for their conveyance was brought to a stop beside the rails, where a small but well built wooden structure apparently served as a crude station.

At the invitation of the Martians they got out, declining, however, the suggestion of entering the waiting room of the building. They preferred to examine first the wonders of their strange outdoor surroundings. The Martians gathered about and proceeded to study them with poorly concealed curiosity. Yet at all times their attitude toward the adventurers was solicitous and courteous. To Robert they seemed more and more like a delegation of learned experts sent to observe their every move and thought as closely as possible.

About the clearing stood a number of plain buildings of goodly size, with numerous windows. Several Martians in rough garb, including the loose trousers and blouse, but without the odd coats or hats worn by the first Martians, busied themselves about these buildings. In the distance there were sounds of chopping, and an occasional resounding thud, as from a tree felled. They seemed to be in a lumber camp, and this conjecture was later confirmed. They were standing then in the heart of one of the planet’s greatest forest regions.

Presently Robert became aware of a humming sound. Looking about quickly, he failed at first to see from whence it came. Then he discovered for the first time the great distance that it was possible to see in either direction along the railroad, because of its striking straightness. Mile after mile it ran straight as an arrow through a veritable tunnel of trees.

In the distance he descried a swiftly moving speck on the madder-colored ribbon of roadbed. It grew rapidly larger, evidently nearing them at a tremendous rate. A minute later a Martian train, drawn by a squat engine, ground to a stop before the station. Like the conveyance which had met them, it seemed electrically driven. Only one man was visible in the engine cab. Robert counted eight coaches, each about sixty feet long.

Their guides conducted them to the back coach, which they entered at one end. This coach differed considerably from the rest, for while the others were built with compartments similar to English coaches, this one was not unlike one of our own observation cars. It was unoccupied. They found out afterward that their guides composed a special committee which had arranged for this car in their guests’ honor, the _Sphere’s_ approach having been discovered and observed closely by Martian astronomers as it neared the planet. Every effort and provision had been made to find and meet its expected inmates promptly, and with every consideration for their comfort.

They were scarcely aboard before the train was moving. Without a jar the luxurious coach slipped away from the little station, gathering momentum rapidly. A minute later the station dwindled and was lost from view behind them down the shrinking avenue of trees which whirled past them dizzily.

“Just like greased lightning,” said Robert.

It was evident that the owl-eyed committee of Martians were eager to establish some code of communication by means of signs with their guests, but observing their desire to study the changing landscape they politely refrained. One of the Martians, however, evinced considerable curiosity over Robert’s watch chain, whereupon Robert displayed his watch. Not to be outdone, the Martian pulled out a small, flat mechanism about an inch and a half square. A glance at this object convinced Robert that he was looking at a Martian watch.

The indicating scheme was essentially the same as our own method. There was a small dial in the center, with sixteen curious numerals round its edge. The hands, of the same length, but of contrasting colors, apparently indicated the time, while in the upper corners were changeable numerals, probably showing what corresponded to the Martian month and day of the month. The lower corners were not utilized, but were simply decorated with some artistic scrolls. A third, but shorter hand, also connected to the central dial, revolving rapidly with a familiar ticking sound, probably corresponded to the second-hand on our own watches, but it was more like the long hand on a split-second stop-watch.

The case of Robert’s watch seemed to interest the Martians no less than its mechanism. The watch was an old one of the bulky type which had belonged to Robert’s father. The heavy case was of solid silver. From their exclamations, as they examined the silver case, Robert judged that they prized silver highly as a precious metal.

By this time the character of the country had changed. No longer were they surrounded by the fragrant forest. Vast, level, green fields stretched on either side, while in the distance the equally flat desert was visible at times.

* * * * *

The speed of the train began diminishing until it came to a stop beside another small station. Here they got their first view of one of the great canals or ducts upon which the plant life and the lives of every being on Mars depended.

About a hundred yards beyond the station a gang of two hundred or more men were at work in and around a deep excavation, aided by several huge digging machines. All were clad in rough garments of a dull maroon color, which Robert soon learned was as common a color on Mars as our own khaki is to us.

But it was not the Martians which attracted Robert’s and Professor Palmer’s chief attention. A giant cylinder lay partly exposed within the excavation, its ends disappearing into the soil at either end. In diameter it was at least seventy-five feet. It appeared to be of cementlike construction.

At intervals of perhaps fifty yards along its length, smaller tubes branched off and were lost in the sides of the ditch. Where one of these branches joined the main line, a swarm of workmen struggled valiantly to mend a break from which the water gushed as if under heavy pressure.

The scurrying Martians had checked the leak perceptibly by the time the train started again after a minute’s wait.

A few minutes later they flashed by an immense structure situated near the tracks, looking like a great power plant of some kind. However, it reared no stacks to the sky. For miles at either end of it stretched a vast, flat expanse of some curious construction, which in the distance looked like a great, elongated checker-board.

“A Martian pumping station,” hazarded Robert.

“I believe you’ve struck it,” said Professor Palmer. “And I believe the big ‘checker-board’ is nothing more nor less than a device for absorbing power from the sun’s rays. That alone would explain the Martians’ remarkable achievements in the face of the unquestionable dwindling, perhaps complete exhaustion, of the planet’s fuel supply.”

“How old do you suppose Mars is!” asked Robert.

“That’s a hard one; but the various planets are classified according to stages. There is the sun stage, in which the planet is hot enough to emit light. This is followed by the molten stage--hot, but lightless. Then comes the solidifying stage, with the formation of solid surfaces and ocean basins. The next stage is what we call the terraqueous stage, the age of sedimentary rocks. Our Earth is in this stage. Following this is the terrestrial stage, in which the oceans have disappeared, and, after that the dead stage, when air has departed. Mars is in the terrestrial stage, the stage following that of our planet, and preceding the dead, or final stage.”

“Then the Martians are engaged in a constant struggle against extinction!”

“They are, though, with their marvelous ingenuity, they may last a few thousand years longer. But we are witnesses of the waning of a world.”

They were now passing through a fertile farming region. Small buildings dotted the landscape, while here and there Martian farmers were diligently at work in their fields. There was a complete absence, however, of any beast of burden or toil. Everywhere power seemed to be furnished electrically. Farmers could be seen plowing with large, powerful tractors.

Frequently they caught glimpses of the checker-board devices adjoining the buildings, but on a much smaller scale than the one they had first seen. Quite likely, they decided, these were individual sun-power plants.