"They certainly have, so far," remarked Mr. Henderson. "I only hope none of them meddle with our projectile."
"I'm a little apprehensive about that myself," added Mr. Roumann. "And I trust that crazy man does not get loose. But we can't help ourselves, and we'll hope for the best."
They were now close to the water–front of the city, and they saw the shore lined with a great throng. Evidently their approach had been heralded, and they were being eagerly awaited.
"Looks as if we were going to have quite a reception," remarked Jack. "I hope it's a pleasant one."
"If it isn't, we can't help ourselves," went on Andy. "I can't use my gun in a land where the bullet has about as much force as a pea in a putty shooter. But if they attack us we can pick up stones and fire at them."
"Stones won't be much more effective than the bullets," said Mr. Roumann.
"Why not?"
"Because they'll be light, too. Things here will weigh only about a third as much as they do on earth. In fact, that is one reason why we are moved about so easily by their thought power. We are only a third as heavy as we were on earth, though we weigh more than the Martians, for all that."
By this time they were at the dock, and they found themselves being moved out of the boat, and up to the pier, through the crowd of people.
Their guide—the Martian with the squared triangle—called out an order, and the crowd opened up a living lane, through which the adventurers passed. They could not help noticing how polite the Martian inhabitants were, for there were no idle remarks on the appearance of the strangers, such as would have taken place under similar circumstances on earth. But the Martians made up for it by staring with their great eyes, listening with their great ears, and sniffing, the air with their long noses, though they kept a profound silence.