There was a pause.  “Surely!—­” said Cavor.

One of the other Selenites walked a few paces out upon the plank, and turned and looked back at us unconcernedly.  The others stood ready to follow after us.  Our guide’s expectant figure reappeared.  He was returning to see why we had not advanced.

“What is that beyond there?” I asked.

“I can’t see.”

“We can’t cross this at any price,” said I.

“I could not go three steps on it,” said Cavor, “even with my hands free.”

We looked at each other’s drawn faces in blank consternation.

“They can’t know what it is to be giddy!” said Cavor.

“It’s quite impossible for us to walk that plank.”

“I don’t believe they see as we do.  I’ve been watching them.  I wonder if they know this is simply blackness for us.  How can we make them understand?”

“Anyhow, we must make them understand.”

I think we said these things with a vague half hope the Selenites might somehow understand.  I knew quite clearly that all that was needed was an explanation.  Then as I saw their faces, I realised that an explanation was impossible.  Just here it was that our resemblances were not going to bridge our differences.  Well, I wasn’t going to walk the plank, anyhow.  I slipped my wrist very quickly out of the coil of chain that was loose, and then began to twist my wrists in opposite directions.  I was standing nearest to the bridge, and as I did this two of the Selenites laid hold of me, and pulled me gently towards it.

I shook my head violently.  “No go,” I said, “no use.  You don’t understand.”

Another Selenite added his compulsion.  I was forced to step forward.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Cavor; but I knew his ideas.

“Look here!” I exclaimed to the Selenites.  “Steady on!  It’s all very well for you—­”

I sprang round upon my heel.  I burst out into curses.  For one of the armed
Selenites had stabbed me behind with his goad.

I wrenched my wrists free from the little tentacles that held them.  I turned on the goad-bearer.  “Confound you!” I cried.  “I’ve warned you of that.  What on earth do you think I’m made of, to stick that into me?  If you touch me again—­”

By way of answer he pricked me forthwith.

I heard Cavor’s voice in alarm and entreaty.  Even then I think he wanted to compromise with these creatures.  “I say, Bedford,” he cried, “I know a way!” But the sting of that second stab seemed to set free some pent-up reserve of energy in my being.  Instantly the link of the wrist-chain snapped, and with it snapped all considerations that had held us unresisting in the hands of these moon creatures.  For that second, at least, I was mad with fear and anger.  I took no thought of consequences.  I hit straight out at the face of the thing with the goad.  The chain was twisted round my fist.

There came another of these beastly surprises of which the moon world is full.