“It has never been spread out, yet,” said Mein Herr: “the farmers objected: they said it would cover the whole country, and shut out the sunlight! So we now use the country itself, as its own map, and I assure you it does nearly as well. Now let me ask you _another_ question. What is the smallest _world_ you would care to inhabit?” “_I_ know!” cried Bruno, who was listening intently. “I’d like a little teeny-tiny world, just big enough for Sylvie and me!” “Then you would have to stand on opposite sides of it,” said Mein Herr. “And so you would never see your sister _at all_!” “And I’d have no _lessons_,” said Bruno. “You don’t mean to say you’ve been trying experiments in _that_ direction!” I said. “Well, not _experiments_ exactly. We do not profess to _construct_ planets. But a scientific friend of mine, who has made several balloon-voyages, assures me he has visited a planet so small that he could walk right round it in twenty minutes! There had been a great battle, just before his visit, which had ended rather oddly: the vanquished army ran away at full speed, and in a very few minutes found themselves face-to-face with the victorious army, who were marching home again, and who were so frightened at finding themselves between _two_ armies, that they surrendered at once! Of course that lost them the battle, though, as a matter of fact, they had killed _all_ the soldiers on the other side.” “Killed soldiers _ca’n’t_ run away,” Bruno thoughtfully remarked. “‘Killed’ is a technical word,” replied Mein Herr. “In the little planet I speak of, the bullets were made of soft black stuff, which marked everything it touched. So, after a battle, all you had to do was to count how many soldiers on each side were ‘killed’—that means ‘marked on the _back_,’ for marks in _front_ didn’t count.” “Then you couldn’t ‘kill’ any, unless they ran away?” I said. “My scientific friend found out a better plan than _that_. He pointed out that, if only the bullets were sent _the other way round the world_, they would hit the enemy in the _back_. After that, the _worst_ marksmen were considered the _best_ soldiers; and _the very worst of all_ always got First Prize.” “And how did you decide which was _the very worst of all_?” “Easily. The _best_ possible shooting is, you know, to hit what is exactly in _front_ of you: so of course the _worst_ possible is to hit what is exactly _behind_ you.” “They were strange people in that little planet!” I said. “They were indeed! Perhaps their method of _government_ was the strangest of all. In _this_ planet, I am told, a Nation consists of a number of Subjects, and one King: but, in the little planet I speak of, it consisted of a number of _Kings_, and one _Subject_!” “You say you are ‘told’ what happens in _this_ planet,” I said. “May I venture to guess that you yourself are a visitor from some _other_ planet?” Bruno clapped his hands in his excitement. “Is oo the Man-in-the-Moon?” he cried.