Through Space to Mars by Roy Rockwood (e ink epub reader TXT) 📖

triangle on his head did not

comprehend.

 

“I can speak several languages,” remarked Amos Henderson. “Let

me tackle him.”

 

Accordingly, the professor spoke in several languages, including

the Esquimau, which he had picked up on his journey north, and in

the language used by the inhabitants in the center of the earth.

But to all these the leader only shook his head.

 

“Suppose we try Latin?” suggested Mark, who was a proficient

pupil in that language. “Latin is a very old language. Maybe he

understands that.”

 

“Go ahead,” said Jack.

 

Mark accordingly began to recite part of the first book of

Caesar, beginning: “All Gaul is divided into three parts,” which

every, schoolboy knows. But this was no better.

 

“Let me try a bit of Greek on him,” said Mr. Roumann. “I used to

be a pretty good Greek scholar.”’

 

But Greek appeared to be an unknown tongue to Mars. The leader,

however, seeing that the strangers had arrived at the end of

their resources, called to some persons in the crowd, and these,

coming forward, addressed the world-dwellers in different

dialects. But they were no more understandable than had been the

first speech of the man with the glittering triangle.

 

“Guess we’ll have to resort to first principles, and draw

pictures for them,” said Mark.

 

Just then Jack uttered an exclamation, and pointed to the head of

the leader.

 

“What’s he doing? Making faces at you?” asked Mark.

 

“No; but look at that triangle!” exclaimed Jack. “It’s a

right-angled one.”

 

“Well, what of it?”

 

“This: If they understand triangles, they must know something

about mathematics and geometry. Suppose we draw for them that

problem in geometry which states that the sums of the squares

constructed on the base and altitude of a right-angled triangle

is equal to the square constructed on the hypotenuse? If he

knows that, maybe we can get to some understanding with him.”

 

“Go ahead and try,” assented Mr. Henderson.

 

Jack accordingly took up a stick, and drew in the sand the

geometrical problem of which he had spoken. It is one of the

simplest. No sooner had he done so than the Martians set up a

cry.

 

“What’s the matter?” asked Jack. “I hope I haven’t made them

mad.”

 

“No; they appear to be delighted,” said Mr. Roumann. And sure

enough, the Martians showed evidences of pleasure. They pointed

to the triangle on the head of their leader, and then to the one

Jack had drawn.

 

Then, from somewhere in the rear of the crowd, there came another

man. He was slightly larger than his companions, but that was

not saying much, for, aside from their great heads, the Martians

were all little people, not much more than up to Andy’s shoulder,

and Andy was not much over five feet in height.

 

But it was not the size of the newcomer that attracted the

attention of the travelers so much as it was the device he had in

the golden circle on his head. For this device was exactly the

same as the one Jack had drawn in the sand to illustrate the

problem. It was a triangle, with squares drawn out from the

three sides. He looked at the drawing in the sand, and made a

low bow to the newcomers.

 

“Well, that appears to have taken their fancy,” said Mark. “I

can’t understand it.”

 

“I can,” spoke the professor quickly. “The Martians are a very

learned people. That’s why their heads are so large and their

bodies so small. They make a special study of the sciences, and

geometry and mathematics probably are their favorites. That is

why they understand Jack’s problem. Science is the same

throughout the universe, though conditions may differ on

different planets. I think we have arrived at a means of

communicating with the Martians, at least until we have learned

their language.”

 

The Martian with the triangle and squares on his circlet of gold

appeared to be a grade higher in authority than the one with the

simple triangle. He now addressed the travelers, but they could

not understand him.

 

Seeing this, he stooped and drew in the sand another geometrical

problem, leaving it half completed.

 

“You finish it, Mark,” said Jack, and the boy did so, much to the

delight of the crowd.

 

“They all are well up in geometry,” declared Mr. Roumann.

 

“But I’d like to understand what force it was that made us move?”

spoke Jack.

 

“I’ll see if I can find out,” said Mr. Henderson, and he made

motions to indicate that they would like to know what power it

was that moved them away from the projectile.

 

A smile came to the face of the leading Martian. He pointed to

his big head, and then to the travelers. Then he fixed his great

eyes on them.

 

Instantly they felt themselves being moved backward to the

projectile. They went a few feet, then were moved forward toward

the crowd again. Then they found themselves stationary.

 

“It’s thought force!” cried Jack. “That’s what it is. They

simply will for a thing to be done, and it is done—at least with

persons from another planet. They have the power to make us move

by merely wishing it.”

 

“Then they ought to be able to read our thoughts,” spoke Mark.

 

“Maybe their power extends only to motion,” suggested Mr.

Henderson.

 

The chief leader spoke again, and it was evident that he was

asking if the explanation and demonstration he had given was

satisfactory. The professor nodded his head to indicate that it

was.

 

The leader addressed the throng of people, and they turned and

started away. The leader remained, and turning to the adventurers

he pointed off toward a distant city, and indicated that they were

to go there.

 

“And leave our projectile behind!” exclaimed Jack. “We don’t

want to do that.”

 

This did not meet with the approval of the others. They were in

a strange land, and the Annihilator might be the means of saving

their lives. If they left it there was no telling whether or not

they would ever see it again.

 

As well as he could Mr. Henderson made motions that they did not

like to leave their craft behind. But the Martian, with a frank

smile, seemed to say that it would be safe.

 

“Guess we can’t help ourselves,” remarked Mr. Roumann. “If we

don’t go they’ll make us. Better go willingly. Besides, I want

to see their city.”

 

“But what about our prisoner—the crazy machinist?” asked Jack.

 

“Oh, I guess he will be all right. He had a good meal just

before we landed, and he was asleep. We’ll go with these queer

people, and come back tonight to the projectile,” said Mr.

Roumann. “Come on.”

 

They started to follow the leader, who beckoned them forward. He

went off at a rapid pace, and the travelers found themselves

being urged on just as speedily by that mysterious thought force.

 

“This is a great way of traveling,” observed Jack.

 

“It suah does beat walkin’,” commented Washington White, who,

after his first fright, appeared to take it all as a matter of

course. “But I hopes dat dey’s got suffin’ t’ placate mah inner

conscientiousness wid, ‘case I’se gittin’ mighty hungry.”

 

“Oh, I guess these people have to eat, even if they are mostly

brains,” suggested Jack. “Anyhow, we’ve got plenty in the

projectile.”

 

“If dat air crazy man don’t git loose an’ cat it all up,” added

Washington. “I shorely hopes dat he doesn’t hurt mah Shanghai

rooster.”

 

“Never mind about him. Look what a wonderful country we’re in,”

said Mark.

 

And indeed they were in a strange land.