A hasty examination of my instrument assured me that all was in order, and, turning on the current, I now watched the surface of wires for the glow that would signalize the commencement of wave contact.  Should this glow appear without an image of any kind it would have but one meaning—­that the mechanism of the virator had failed to do its work the night previous, and that disaster had befallen Almos.

My heart beat fast, therefore, when in a short time a faint glow appeared on the upper portion of my instrument and rapidly spread until it covered the entire surface.  As it grew brighter I was obliged to turn away, before I could recognize any image, and, as I stood shielding my eyes from the strong glare, I felt my heart sink within me.  But, before I could approach the instrument again, I heard my name called in the clear, ringing tones of Almos’ beloved voice.

I reached the instrument with a bound, and there, standing with his hands extended toward me and a smile of greeting on his handsome face, I saw my brave Martian brother.

“My dear Almos, how glad I am to see you are safe!” I cried, tears of joy springing to my eyes at finding that the fears of a moment ago were unfounded.

“It is entirely due to your forethought in leaving the note, that either of us are safe,” Almos responded.  “Had you not done this, disaster to one or both of us must certainly have resulted, through ignorance of each other’s plans.  Let me congratulate you, my brave fellow, for having so successfully accomplished your remarkable journey.  This is the initial step in the linking together of the destinies of Earth and Mars.

“But now I should like to hear an account of your experiences here, for although I have gradually become aware of many impressions you left, I find it is only of the things suggested by my mind that I can gather anything.”

“Then it is evident that the brain is merely a book of reference for the mind,” I replied, “as I was not instantly aware of your knowledge of Martian affairs, but only upon a subject being suggested by my mind, was the information regarding it available.  Thus, the mind is aware of impressions it has made on the brain, but is totally ignorant of impressions made by another mind, unless the thought is suggested.”

I now gave Almos a brief description of my journey, explaining that, as I intended to make another visit to Mars that evening, I would leave the full account of my experiences until the following night.  I was careful not to make any reference to Zarlah, as I felt that my second meeting with her would put me in a much better position to approach Almos on this extremely delicate subject and lay before him my plans.  Moreover, I was anxious that nothing should interfere with those few happy hours to which I looked forward with such intense desire.

Almos listened to my narrative with wrapt attention, and not until I concluded by describing the remarkable effects of the regenerating rays, did he give utterance to a word.  Then, to my amazement, he said: