cheeks; and so, I say, we parted.




CHAPTER X

Off into the forest I went, feeling a boyish elation to be so free nor
taking heed or count of the reckless adventure before me. The Martian
weather for the moment was lovely and the many-coloured grass lush and
soft under foot. Mile after mile I went, heeding the distance lightly,
the air was so elastic. Now pressing forward as the main interest of my
errand took the upper hand, and remembrance of poor Heru like a crushed
white flower in the red grip of those cruel ravishers came upon me,
and then pausing to sigh with pleasure or stand agape--forgetful even
of her--in wonder of the unknown loveliness about me.

And well might I stare! Everything in that forest was wonderful! There
were plants which turned from colour to colour with the varying hours of
the day. While others had a growth so swift it was dangerous to sit in
their neighbourhood since the long, succulent tendrils clambering from
the parent stem would weave you into a helpless tangle while you gazed,
fascinated, upon them. There were plants that climbed and walked; sighing
plants who called the winged things of the air to them with a noise so
like to a girl sobbing that again and again I stopped in the tangled
path to listen. There were green bladder-mosses which swam about the
surface of the still pools like gigantic frog-broods. There were on the
ridges warrior trees burning in the vindictiveness of a long forgotten
cause--a blaze of crimson scimitar thorns from root to topmost twig;
and down again in the cool hollows were lady-bushes making twilight of