"I seem to have conveyed to him," Allenby said dryly, "the fact that I'm chief of our party. Well, let's try again."
He started over on the orbits. He didn't seem to be getting anyplace, so the rest of us watched the Martians instead. A last handful was straggling across the wide street.
"Curious," said Gonzales. "Note what happens when they reach the center of the street."
Each Martian, upon reaching the center of the street, glanced at his feet—just for a moment—without even breaking stride. And then came on.
"What can they be looking at?" Gonzales wondered.
"The chief did it too," Burton mused. "Remember when he first came toward us?"
We all stared intently at the middle of the street. We saw absolutely nothing but sand.
The Martians milled around us and watched Allenby and his orbits. A Martian child appeared from between two buildings across the street. On six-inch legs, it started across, got halfway, glanced downward—and came on.
"I don't get it," Burton said. "What in hell are they looking at?"
The child reached the crowd and squeaked a thin, high note.