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ordinary falling star. Albin described it as leaving a greenish

streak behind it that glowed for some seconds. Denning, our greatest

authority on meteorites, stated that the height of its first

appearance was about ninety or one hundred miles. It seemed to him

that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him.

I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; and although my

French windows face towards Ottershaw and the blind was up (for I

loved in those days to look up at the night sky), I saw nothing of it.

Yet this strangest of all things that ever came to earth from outer

space must have fallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I

only looked up as it passed. Some of those who saw its flight say it

travelled with a hissing sound. I myself heard nothing of that. Many

people in Berkshire, Surrey, and Middlesex must have seen the fall of

it, and, at most, have thought that another meteorite had descended.

No one seems to have troubled to look for the fallen mass that night.

But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen the

shooting star and who was persuaded that a meteorite lay somewhere on

the common between Horsell, Ottershaw, and Woking, rose early with the

idea of finding it. Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not far from

the sand pits. An enormous hole had been made by the impact of the

projectile, and the sand and gravel had been flung violently in every

direction over the heath, forming heaps visible a mile and a half

away. The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose

against the dawn.

The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst the

scattered splinters of a fir tree it had shivered to fragments in its

descent. The uncovered part had the appearance of a huge cylinder,

caked over and its outline softened by a thick scaly dun-coloured

incrustation. It had a diameter of about thirty yards. He approached

the mass, surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since most

meteorites are rounded more or less completely. It was, however,

still so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near

approach. A stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to the

unequal cooling of its surface; for at that time it had not occurred

to him that it might be hollow.

He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the Thing had made

for itself, staring at its strange appearance, astonished chiefly at

its unusual shape and colour, and dimly perceiving even then some

evidence of design in its arrival. The early morning was wonderfully

still, and the sun, just clearing the pine trees towards Weybridge,

was already warm. He did not remember hearing any birds that morning,

there was certainly no breeze stirring, and the only sounds were the

faint movements from within the cindery cylinder. He was all alone on

the common.

Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the grey

clinker, the ashy incrustation that covered the meteorite, was falling

off the circular edge of the end. It was dropping off in flakes and

raining down upon the sand. A large piece suddenly came off and fell

with a sharp noise that brought his heart into his mouth.

For a minute he scarcely realised what this meant, and, although

the heat was excessive, he clambered down into the pit close to the

bulk to see the Thing more clearly. He fancied even then that the

cooling of the body might account for this, but what disturbed that

idea was the fact that the ash was falling only from the end of the

cylinder.

And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circular top of the

cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such a gradual movement

that he discovered it only through noticing that a black mark that had

been near him five minutes ago was now at the other side of the

circumference. Even then he scarcely understood what this indicated,

until he heard a muffled grating sound and saw the black mark jerk

forward an inch or so. Then the thing came upon him in a flash. The

cylinder was artificial--hollow--with an end that screwed out!

Something within the cylinder was unscrewing the top!

"Good heavens!" said Ogilvy. "There's a man in it--men in it! Half

roasted to death! Trying to escape!"

At once, with a quick mental leap, he linked the Thing with the

flash upon Mars.

The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to him that he

forgot the heat and went forward to the cylinder to help turn. But

luckily the dull radiation arrested him before he could burn his hands

on the still-glowing metal. At that he stood irresolute for a moment,

then turned, scrambled out of the pit, and set off running wildly into

Woking. The time then must have been somewhere about six o'clock.

He met a waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he

told and his appearance were so wild--his hat had fallen off in the

pit--that the man simply drove on. He was equally unsuccessful with the

potman who was just unlocking the doors of the public-house by Horsell

Bridge. The fellow thought he was a lunatic at large and made an

unsuccessful attempt to shut him into the taproom. That sobered him a

little; and when he saw Henderson, the London journalist, in his

garden, he called over the palings and made himself understood.

"Henderson," he called, "you saw that shooting star last night?"

"Well?" said Henderson.

"It's out on Horsell Common now."

"Good Lord!" said Henderson. "Fallen meteorite! That's good."

"But it's something more than a meteorite. It's a cylinder--an

artificial cylinder, man! And there's something inside."

Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand.

"What's that?" he said. He was deaf in one ear.

Ogilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was a minute or so

taking it in. Then he dropped his spade, snatched up his jacket, and

came out into the road. The two men hurried back at once to the

common, and found the cylinder still lying in the same position. But

now the sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal

showed between the top and the body of the cylinder. Air was either

entering or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound.

They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a stick, and,

meeting with no response, they both concluded the man or men inside

must be insensible or dead.

Of course the two were quite unable to do anything. They shouted

consolation and promises, and went off back to the town again to get

help. One can imagine them, covered with sand, excited and

disordered, running up the little street in the bright sunlight just

as the shop folks were taking down their shutters and people were

opening their bedroom windows. Henderson went into the railway

station at once, in order to telegraph the news to London. The

newspaper articles had prepared men's minds for the reception of the

idea.

By eight o'clock a number of boys and unemployed men had already

started for the common to see the "dead men from Mars." That was the

form the story took. I heard of it first from my newspaper boy about

a quarter to nine when I went out to get my _Daily Chronicle_. I was

naturally startled, and lost no time in going out and across the

Ottershaw bridge to the sand pits.

CHAPTER THREE

ON HORSELL COMMON

I found a little crowd of perhaps twenty people surrounding the

huge hole in which the cylinder lay. I have already described the

appearance of that colossal bulk, embedded in the ground. The turf

and gravel about it seemed charred as if by a sudden explosion. No

doubt its impact had caused a flash of fire. Henderson and Ogilvy

were not there. I think they perceived that nothing was to be done

for the present, and had gone away to breakfast at Henderson's house.

There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of the Pit, with

their feet dangling, and amusing themselves--until I stopped them--by

throwing stones at the giant mass. After I had spoken to them about

it, they began playing at "touch" in and out of the group of

bystanders.

Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbing gardener I

employed sometimes, a girl carrying a baby, Gregg the butcher and his

little boy, and two or three loafers and golf caddies who were

accustomed to hang about the railway station. There was very little

talking. Few of the common people in England had anything but the

vaguest astronomical ideas in those days. Most of them were staring

quietly at the big table like end of the cylinder, which was still as

Ogilvy and Henderson had left it. I fancy the popular expectation of

a heap of charred corpses was disappointed at this inanimate bulk.

Some went away while I was there, and other people came. I clambered

into the pit and fancied I heard a faint movement under my feet. The

top had certainly ceased to rotate.

It was only when I got thus close to it that the strangeness of

this object was at all evident to me. At the first glance it was

really no more exciting than an overturned carriage or a tree blown

across the road. Not so much so, indeed. It looked like a rusty gas

float. It required a certain amount of scientific education to

perceive that the grey scale of the Thing was no common oxide, that

the yellowish-white metal that gleamed in the crack between the lid

and the cylinder had an unfamiliar hue. "Extra-terrestrial" had no

meaning for most of the onlookers.

At that time it was quite clear in my own mind that the Thing had

come from the planet Mars, but I judged it improbable that it

contained any living creature. I thought the unscrewing might be

automatic. In spite of Ogilvy, I still believed that there were men

in Mars. My mind ran fancifully on the possibilities of its

containing manuscript, on the difficulties in translation that might

arise, whether we should find coins and models in it, and so forth.

Yet it was a little too large for assurance on this idea. I felt an

impatience to see it opened. About eleven, as nothing seemed

happening, I walked back, full of such thought, to my home in Maybury.

But I found it difficult to get to work upon my abstract

investigations.

In the afternoon the appearance of the common had altered very

much. The early editions of the evening papers had startled London

with enormous headlines:

"A MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM MARS."

"REMARKABLE STORY FROM WOKING,"

and so forth. In addition, Ogilvy's wire to the Astronomical Exchange

had roused every observatory in the three kingdoms.

There were half a dozen flies or more from the Woking station

standing in the road by the sand pits, a basket-chaise from Chobham,

and a rather lordly carriage. Besides that, there was quite a heap of

bicycles. In addition, a large number of people must have walked, in

spite of the heat of the day, from Woking and Chertsey, so that there

was altogether quite a considerable crowd--one or two gaily dressed

ladies among the others.

It was glaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky nor a breath of wind,

and the only shadow was that of the few scattered pine trees. The

burning heather had been extinguished, but the level ground towards

Ottershaw was blackened as far as one could see, and still giving off

vertical streamers of smoke. An enterprising sweet-stuff dealer in

the Chobham Road had sent up his son with a barrow-load of green

apples and ginger beer.

Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by a group of

about half a dozen men--Henderson, Ogilvy, and a tall, fair-haired man

that I afterwards learned was Stent, the Astronomer Royal, with

several workmen wielding spades and pickaxes. Stent was giving

directions in a clear, high-pitched voice. He was standing on the

cylinder, which was now evidently much cooler; his face was crimson

and streaming with perspiration, and something seemed to have

irritated him.

A large portion of the cylinder had been uncovered, though its

lower end was still embedded. As soon as Ogilvy saw me among the

staring crowd on the edge of the pit he called to me to come down, and

asked me if I would mind going over to see Lord Hilton, the lord of

the manor.

The growing crowd, he said, was becoming a serious impediment to

their excavations, especially the boys. They wanted a light railing

put up, and help to keep the people back. He told me that a faint

stirring was occasionally still audible within the case, but that the

workmen had failed to unscrew the top, as it afforded no grip to them.

The case appeared to be enormously thick, and it was possible that the

faint sounds we heard represented a noisy tumult in the interior.

I was very glad to do as he asked, and so become one of the

privileged spectators within the contemplated enclosure. I failed to

find Lord Hilton at his house, but I was told he was expected from

London by the six o'clock train from Waterloo; and as it was then

about a quarter past five, I went home, had some tea, and walked up to

the station to waylay him.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE CYLINDER OPENS

When I returned to the common the sun was setting. Scattered groups

were hurrying from the direction of Woking, and one or two persons

were returning. The crowd about the pit had increased, and stood out

black against the lemon yellow of the sky--a couple of hundred people,

perhaps. There were raised voices, and some sort of struggle appeared

to be going on about the pit. Strange imaginings passed through my

mind. As I drew nearer I heard Stent's voice:

"Keep back! Keep back!"

A boy came running towards me.

"It's a-movin'," he said to me as he passed; "a-screwin' and

a-screwin' out. I don't like it. I'm a-goin' 'ome, I am."

I went on to the crowd. There were really, I should think, two or

three hundred people elbowing and jostling one another, the one or two

ladies there being by no means the least active.