The Martian

[Illustration: The water was evaporated by the ever-shining sun until there was none left for the thirsty plants. Every year more workers died in misery.]

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[Illustration: ALLEN GLASSER who furnished the plot]

[Illustration:A. ROWLEY HILLIARD who wrote the story]

Many writers of science fiction, who have not given the matter much thought, assume that a man of intelligence from one planet would meet a cordial and sympathetic welcome on another world. It is assumed that people are everywhere educated, curious about other worlds and other cultures, and eager to help a visitor from an alien race.

Unfortunately there is no assurance that such is the case. Even were the members of another race, on another world possessed of education, there would be bound to be among them low and brutish elements. And if a stranger from another world, dazed by new conditions and unable to make his wants known, were to fall into their hands his fate might not be happy.

We have read no story that pictures with such clarity and insight the experiences of a man on another world than his own, than does this present story. With the basis of a splendid plot Mr. Hilliard has worked up a simply marvelous story.

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The rolling, yellow sand reflected the heat of the sun in little, shimmering waves. It reflected the sun's light blindingly throughout all its visible expanse, with the exception of one spot where lay a circular shadow. In the great steely-blue dome of the sky there were no clouds.

The shadow, although not large, was very dark and distinct. The curved, even line of its circumference was precisely drawn.

In the air was a persistent rattle of sound--a series of closely spaced explosions, ever rising in intensity.

Suddenly a small, uneven shadow detached itself from the circular one; and floated swiftly across the sand. The rattling sound increased to a tremendous booming roar, and the large shadow began to fade. At the same time, the smaller one grew steadily darker.

High above the sand, a man was falling--much too swiftly.

The surface of the sand had been shaped into hills by the prevailing winds. These long, ridge-like hills, or dunes, were convex and gradual in slope on their windward sides, but on their lee sides they were concave, and very steep.

It was near the top of one of these steep slopes that the man landed. His frail legs and body crumpled under the weight of his head; he pitched forward, and half rolled, half slid to the bottom where he came to rest more gently, the target of a small avalanche of sand.

Immediately, he began to struggle; and, failing in his attempts to rise, stretched his slim arms skyward and uttered a sharp, squealing cry, painfully prolonged. Far above him a spherical object rapidly diminished in size. Fixedly he watched the sunlight glinting on its polished grey sides; watched it shrink to a tiny ball, a point, and then--nothing. He was alone.

The pressure was horrible. He buried his head in the hot sand, and clapped his ears in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing pain. They must have underestimated the weight of the Toonian atmosphere if they had expected him to live long here! It did not hurt his body, but his head was being crushed. He knew that he would soon die--and was glad. This wild, senseless punishment would be at an end.