plain he walked for hours, resting at times, but finding no water
and no sweet roots to quench his thirst, until he was too tired to
walk any further, and so he sat down on the dry grass under that
wide blue sky. There was not a cloud on it--nothing but the great
globe of the sun above him; and there was no wind and no motion in
the yellow grass blades, and no sight or sound of any living creature.

Martin lying on his back gazed up at the blue sky, keeping his eyes
from the sun, which was too bright for them, and after a time he did
see something moving--a small black spot no bigger than a fly moving
in a circle. But he knew it was something big, but at so great a
height from the earth as to look like a fly. And then he caught
sight of a second black speck, then another and another, until he
could make out a dozen or twenty, or more, all moving in wide
circles at that vast height.

Martin thought they must be the black people of the sky; he wondered
why they were black and not white, like white birds, or blue, and of
other brilliant colours like the people of the Mirage.

Now it was impossible for Martin to lie like that, following those
small black spots on the hot blue sky as they wheeled round and
round continuously, without giving his eyes a little rest by
shutting them at intervals. By-and-by he kept them shut a little too
long; he fell asleep, and when he woke he didn't wake fully in a
moment; he remained lying motionless just as before, with eyes still
closed, but the lids just raised enough to enable him to see about
him. And the sight that met his eyes was very curious. He was no
longer alone in that solitary place. There were people all round him,
dozens and scores of little black men about two feet in height, of a