To Robert the remarkable trip already seemed as a nightmare. As he looked out on the quiet, desolate scene in the deepening twilight, he could scarcely realize that they were not still on the Earth. For despite the desolation of the vast Martian desert stretching before his eyes, and the fact that he had never before even seen a desert except in pictures, his imagination balked when he tried to believe himself on a strange planet, millions of miles from the Earth. The idea was preposterous, absurd! Robert’s more deliberate self persisted in half suspecting that they had simply miscalculated, and had actually returned to the Earth at some remote spot.
“Boys, I’m going to try a whiff of our new atmosphere,” said the professor, unlatching one of the small portholes.
Before either of the others could interfere, he had swung the heavy glass slightly inward, and sniffed the Martian atmosphere speculatively.
Whatever fears they held were quickly dispelled by the look of relief which came over Professor Palmer’s countenance as he swung the port wide open and eagerly inhaled the outside atmosphere.
“It’s all right,” he cried. “The regular stuff! Come on and enjoy some fresh, Martian desert air.”
Robert and Taggert did not need to be urged. The air within the Sphere seemed suddenly to have grown unbearably stale. With one accord they opened the other ports and filled their lungs with the sweet, cold air outside.
“We’ll have to close up again to keep warm tonight,” shivered Taggert.
“Thirty-four degrees above zero,” read Robert from the Fahrenheit thermometer outside.
“The air on these deserts cools very rapidly after twilight,” said the professor. “Even in the Sahara, on our own globe, the temperature frequently drops below freezing at night. However, the temperature in the canal belts should be more uniform.”
“Let’s get outside and look around a bit,” suggested Robert.