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The Man On Putney Hill
Getcaught,Imean. Andthegreatthingis,wemustleavetheMartiansalone. Wemustn’tevensteal. Ifwegetintheirway,weclearout. Wemustshowthemwemeannoharm. Yes,Iknow. Butthey’reintelligentthings,andtheywon’thuntusdowniftheyhavealltheywant,andthinkwe’rejustharmlessvermin."
Theartillerymanpausedandlaidabrownhanduponmyarm.
"Afterall,itmaynotbesomuchwemayhavetolearnbefore—Justimaginethis: fourorfiveoftheirfightingmachinessuddenlystartingoff—Heat-Raysrightandleft,andnotaMartianin’em. NotaMartianin’em,butmen—menwhohavelearnedthewayhow. Itmaybeinmytime,even—thosemen. Fancyhavingoneofthemlovelythings,withitsHeat-Raywideandfree! Fancyhavingitincontrol! Whatwoulditmatterifyousmashedtosmithereensattheendoftherun,afterabustlikethat? IreckontheMartians’llopentheirbeautifuleyes! Can’tyouseethem,man? Can’tyouseethemhurrying,hurrying—puffingandblowingandhootingtotheirothermechanicalaffairs? Somethingoutofgearineverycase. Andswish,bang,rattle,swish! Justastheyarefumblingoverit,swishcomestheHeat-Ray,and,behold!manhascomebacktohisown."
Forawhiletheimaginativedaringoftheartilleryman,andthetoneofassuranceandcourageheassumed,completelydominatedmymind. Ibelievedunhesitatinglybothinhisforecastofhumandestinyandinthepracticabilityofhisastonishingscheme, andthereaderwhothinksmesusceptibleandfoolishmustcontrasthisposition,readingsteadilywithallhisthoughtsabouthissubject,andmine,crouchingfearfullyinthebushesandlistening,distractedbyapprehension.
