I discovered that Nah-ee-lah knew little about these islands,
practically nothing in fact, not even as to whether they were inhabited;
but we determined to explore one, and to this end we selected an island
of considerable extent that lay about ten miles off shore. We reached it
without difficulty and circled slowly above it, scrutinizing its entire
area carefully. About half of it was quite hilly, but the balance was
rolling and comparatively level. We discovered three streams and two
small lakes upon it, and an almost riotous profusion of vegetable
growth, but nowhere did we discern the slightest indication that it was
inhabited. And so at last, feeling secure, we made our landing upon the
plain, close to the beach.
It was a beautiful spot, a veritable Garden of Eden, where we two might
have passed the remainder of our lives in peace and security, for though
we later explored it carefully, we found not the slightest evidence that
it had ever known the foot of man.
Together we built a snug shelter against the storms. Together we hunted
for food, and during our long periods of idleness we lay upon the soft
sward beside the beach, and to pass the time away, I taught Nah-ee-lah
my own language.
It was a lazy, indolent, happy life that we spent upon this enchanted
isle, and yet, though we were happy in our love, each of us felt the
futility of our existence, where our lives must be spent in useless
idleness.
We had, however, given up definitely hope for any other form of
existence. And thus we were lying one time, as was our wont after
eating, stretched in luxurious ease upon our backs on the soft lunar
grasses, I with my eyes closed, when Nah-ee-lah suddenly grasped me by
the arm.
“Julian,” she cried, “what is it? Look!”
I opened my eyes, to find her sitting up and gazing into the sky toward
the mainland, a slim forefinger indicating the direction of the object
that had attracted her attention and aroused her surprised interest.
As my eyes rested upon the thing her pointing finger indicated, I leaped
to my feet with an exclamation of incredulity, for there, sailing
parallel with the coast at an altitude of not more than a thousand feet,
was a ship, the lines of which I knew as I had known my mother’s face.
It was _The Barsoom_.
Grasping Nah-ee-lah by the arm, I dragged her to her feet. “Come, quick,
Nah-ee-lah!” I cried, and urged her rapidly toward our hut, where we had
stored the wings and the gas bags which we had never thought to use
again, yet protected carefully, though why we knew not.
There was still gas in the bags—enough to support us in the air, with
the assistance of our wings, but to fly thus for long distances would
have been most fatiguing, and there was even a question as to whether we
could cross the ten miles of sea that lay between us and the mainland;
yet I was determined to attempt it. Hastily we donned the wings and
bags, and rising together, flapped slowly in the direction of the
mainland.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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