t have been under the
spell of the Martian wines longer than it seemed, for already it was
late in the afternoon, the shadows of trees were lying deep and
far-reaching over the motley crowds of people. Out here as the day
waned they had developed some sort of method in their sports. In front
of us was a broad, grassy course marked off with garlanded
finger-posts, and in this space rallies of workfolk were taking part in
all manner of games under the eyes of a great concourse of spectators,
doing the Martians' pleasures for them as they did their labours. An
led me gently on, leaning on my arm heavier, I thought, than she had
done in the morning, and ever and anon turning her gazelle-like eyes
upon me with a look I could not understand. As we sauntered forward I
noticed all about lesser circles where the yellow-girted ones were
drawing delighted laughter from good-tempered crowds by tricks of
sleight-of-hand, and posturing, or tossing gilded cups and balls as
though they were catering, as indeed they were, for outgrown children.
Others fluted or sang songs in chorus to the slow clapping of hands,
while others were doing I knew not what, sitting silent amongst silent
spectators who every now and then burst out laughing for no cause that
I could see. But An would not let me stop, and so we pushed on through
the crowd till we came to the main enclosures where a dozen slaves had
run a race for the amusement of those too lazy to race themselves, and
were sitting panting on the grass.

To give them time to get their breath, perhaps, a man stepped out of
the crowd dressed in a dark blue tunic, a strange vacuous-looking
fellow, and throwing down a sheaf of javelins marched off a dozen
paces, then, facing round, called out loudly he would give sixteen
suits of "summer cloth" to any one who could prick him with a javelin
from the heap.

"Why," I said in amazement, "this is the best of fools--no one could
miss from such a distance."

"Ay but," replied my guide, "he is a gifted one, versed in mystics."

I was just going to say a good javelin, shod with iron, was a stronger
argument than any mystic I had ever heard of could stand, when out of
the crowd stepped a youth, and amid the derisive cheers of his friends
chose a reed from the bundle. He poised it in his hand a minute to get
the middle, then turned on the living target. Whatever else they might
be, these Martians were certainly beautiful as the daytime. Never had