The warm sunshine streamed in at the windows cheerfully. Soon the thermometer on the shady side registered forty-one degrees and was rising rapidly. It had dropped to twenty-five the night before when they retired.
An appetizing breakfast was prepared by Taggert, who had insisted upon being the official cook. The keen Martian air and a good night’s rest had brought them all ravenous appetites, and they did the simple repast full justice.
“Come to think about it,” mused Taggert, “the night passed mighty quickly. Professor, how long are the nights and days on Mars?”
“The night seemed to pass quickly because you slept soundly. It happens that a Martian night and day together consume just about twenty-four hours and forty minutes, our time. In other words, by an odd coincidence, Martian days and nights are each approximately but twenty minutes longer than those of the Earth.”
The professor’s last words were interrupted by Robert’s abruptly rising to his feet and pointing mutely out the window!
12
Moving swiftly toward them, about a quarter of a mile away, was a large conveyance which appeared to be occupied by about ten beings.
“Sink me, but these birds are certainly early risers,” grumbled Taggert. “Seems to me they might let us finish breakfast before calling. They’re no gentlemen, I say.”
Professor Palmer was eagerly studying them through binoculars.
“Just as I suspected,” he murmured presently. “They have features just like our own, and seem to be of nearly the same stature as ourselves. Let’s get ready to welcome them, boys. They don’t look like pirates.”