“Good-by!”
And down the causeway he raced, like a pair of wild calipers.
The four travelers stood shocked.
Finally the captain said,
“We’ll find someone yet who’ll listen to us.”
“Maybe we could go out and come in again,” said one of the men in a dreary voice.
“Maybe we should take off and land again.
Give them time to organize a party.”
“That might be a good idea,” murmured the tired captain.
The little town was full of people drifting in and out of doors, saying hello to one another, wearing golden masks and blue masks and crimson masks for pleasant variety, masks with silver lips and bronze eyebrows, masks that smiled or masks that frowned, according to the owners’ dispositions.
The four men, wet from their long walk, paused and asked a little girl where Mr. Iii’s house was.
“There.” The child nodded her head.
The captain got eagerly, carefully down on one knee, looking into her sweet young face.
“Little girl, I want to talk to you.”
He seated her on his knee and folded her small brown hands neatly in his own big ones, as if ready for a bed-time story which he was shaping in his mind slowly and with a great patient happiness in details.
“Well, here’s how it is, little girl. Six months ago another rocket came to Mars.
There was a man named York in it, and his assistant.
Whatever happened to them, we don’t know.
Maybe they crashed.
They came in a rocket.
So did we.
You should see it!
A big rocket!
So we’re the Second Expedition, following up the First!
And we came all the way from Earth…”
The little girl disengaged one hand without thinking about it, and clapped an expressionless golden mask over her face, Then she pulled forth a golden spider toy and dropped it to the ground while the captain talked on.
The toy spider climbed back up to her knee obediently, while she speculated upon it coolly through the slits of her emotionless mask and the captain shook her gently and urged his story upon her.
“We’re Earth Men,” he said.
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
The little girl peeped at the way she was wiggling her toes in the dust.
“Fine.”
The captain pinched her arm, a little bit with joviality, a little bit with meanness to get her to look at him.
“We built our own rocket ship.
Do you believe that?”
The little girl dug in her nose with a finger.
“Yes.”
“And — take your finger out of your nose, little girl — I am the captain, and — ”
“Never before in history has anybody come across space in a big rocket ship,” recited the little creature, eyes shut.
“Wonderful!
How did you know?”
“Oh, telepathy.”
She wiped a casual finger on her knee.
“Well, aren’t you just ever so excited?” cried the captain.
“Aren’t you glad?”
“You just better go see Mr. Iii right away.”
She dropped her toy to the ground.
“Mr. Iii will like talking to you.”
She ran off, with the toy spider scuttling obediently after her.
The captain squatted there looking after her with his hand out.