"Why—why! I can't seem to move!" cried Jack, pushing with all his might. But, though nothing could be seen in front of him or the others, they might just as well have tried to push over the glass castle in the public square.
"We can't go on," called Mr. Roumann.
The Martian officer said something to his men, and they lowered their wands. Instantly it was as if a stone wall had been taken down from in front of the world–dwellers. They were able to advance a few steps, and then, when at a command the wands were again pointed at them, they had to stop.
"It's those sticks!" cried Jack. "They contain some strange power. That's the queerest kind of a policeman's club I ever heard of. It would keep back any mob!"
Try as they did, they could not pass the invisible barrier, and they were forced to give it up. Seeing that the strangers realized that they could not pass, the Martian officer and his men lowered their sticks. He spoke to the travelers, and, though they could not understand what he said, it was evident from his gestures that he was advising them to return to the city.
"I think we'd better," said Mr. Henderson. "The red substance is too well guarded for us to get any of it. Evidently they don't want any of it taken away."
"I must get it!" insisted Mr. Roumann. "If not now, then later."
There was nothing for them to do save turn back, and the Martians tried to smile pleasantly at them, as if sorry for what they were obliged to do.
"We'll go back to the projectile," decided Mr. Henderson. "I am a little anxious to see that it is all right."
They found that it was, though quite a throng had gathered about to inspect it.