Again a pressure of the hand but no expression from the lips, and I was left to further conjecture over the strange mood my companion was in. I swam leisurely, so as not to exhaust my strength, and as there was a considerable distance to go I had plenty of time to think after I had found it impossible to induce Mona to enter into conversation. Although so near, my companion seemed far away, and I became extremely lonesome. In trying to determine what had occasioned such a mishap in a world where I had been taught to believe such things entirely out of date, I came to the conclusion that the Martians owe their freedom from many misfortunes to their ripened characters, rather than to anything peculiar in their physical laws. With my imperfect development I had made an error in judgment in taking Mona upon the water, and with my untrained mind I had simply made a mistake when I turned the lever of the electric apparatus the wrong way. The Martians had reached such high attainments in every direction that it was practically impossible for them to make mistakes. Thus had they freed themselves from many of the vexations which harass the people of a younger world. I was fortunately able to endure the strain of the great task which I had undertaken, and finally succeeded in bringing my precious burden to land and helping her to a place of safety. We were both pretty well fatigued with our exertions, but felt no danger from our wet clothes, because of the mild and balmy air. Mona’s behavior still perplexed me. Her manner was delightfully pleasant and familiar. Now that we were safe she appeared to appreciate the humorous part of the situation, and I was loath to believe that she could or would affect such good nature if she were harboring unpleasant feelings toward me. But I could not account for her continued silence, for as yet no word nor sound of any kind had come from her lips. Her face and hands, however, were continually in motion, and after I had overcome my usual stupidity I discovered that she was actually making signs. “Why, Mona,” I exclaimed, “can’t you speak?” She shook her head. “Nor sing, I mean?” Another shake. “Do you mean to say you have lost your voice?” A nod. For a moment a shadow settled upon her face, occasioned, no doubt, by my falling countenance, for I must have shown something of the great shock to my feelings. Mona without the voice of Mona! I could not at once realize the depth of my loss. And now it was her turn to attempt to restore my spirits, as we fell back to our original mode of conversing. I urged her to make an effort to sing, and she told me she had tried many times, and that it had grieved her to be so unsocial while I was toiling so hard to save her life. “Why, my dear,” I answered, “I thought you were angry with me for speaking to you again about my love.”