Unable to use drugs, due to the possibility of essential differences between Earthly and Martian chemical constitutions, we were forced to resort to purely physical means for his resuscitation; but we were very shortly successful to the extent that the Earthman stirred, opened his lidded eyes, and sat up groggily—then, seeing us crowding about him curiously with waving tentacles and proboscides, uttered an insane yell and attempted to leave the ship at once.
It was with much difficulty that we succeeded in overpowering the frantic Earthman without his breaking the glass oxygen helmet which we had placed over his head to allow him to breathe air at the normal Earthly pressure of between fourteen and fifteen pounds to the square inch. With the aid of a dozen members of the crew, however, we eventually subdued him, not without ourselves sustaining some damage. The tip of one left tentacle was somehow broken off in the scuffle, and by the time I had located the fragment and fastened it back on with medicated adhesive to facilitate healing, the Earthman had been strapped to a table and the telepathor set up.
Since I was interpreter for the expedition, due to my training in the arts and sciences of telepathy, psychology, and linguistics, I, at once, took charge, checked over the apparatus, and began to experiment with a view to discovering the vibration frequency of the Earthman's mind. At last I found it, surprisingly far down in the scale. The Earthmen have exceedingly slow minds, which do not allow them to think quickly in an emergency; this, however, does not prevent them from acting quickly.
Having finally attuned the transformer of the telepathor to step down my mental frequency to the Earthman's level, I succeeded in entering into telepathic communication with him. I will not attempt to reproduce this conversation in words, but will merely give the gist of it, which was about all that I grasped at the time, having no familiarity with Earthly idioms of thought.
This Earthman's name, I gathered, was Sir Henry de Long, the initial "Sir" being some sort of title of more or less vague meaning. He was also a "knight"; this, too, was an honor of some sort, and was intimately connected with the wearing of a considerable quantity of heavy iron and the possession of a horse—the animal upon which the Earthman had been mounted when we first made his acquaintance. In addition to his knighthood, he was an "Englishman," which he also appeared to consider a distinction. On further questioning, it developed that being an Englishman meant having been born in this island of Engelond; I was unable to perceive why this accident should be a cause for personal pride, but concluded that there must be some reason buried deep in Earthly psychology.
When I inquired about his armor, I discovered that it had something to do with his being a knight; furthermore, he seemed to be proud of the armor. In fact, this remarkable individual was proud of almost everything connected with himself. This is one of the characteristics of a certain class of Earthmen, to which this specimen belonged; we discovered later that the vast majority of the race is educated to a becoming humility, while a limited group is allowed to consider itself out of the ordinary and infinitely better than the rest. This is quite proper, of course; those who are superior should be accorded fitting distinction. During our brief stay on Earth, however, we were unable to ascertain the basis on which the superiority of this class is determined.
I succeeded in assuring de Long of our kindly intentions toward him, and obtained his promise not to make trouble if released. Considering the high respect in which this queer fellow held himself, I was reasonably certain that he would refrain from breaking his "word of honor."
I learned also that de Long's home was not far from our present location. On due consideration, we decided to move the ship to this place and gain an opportunity to observe these people in their natural habitat.