His behaviour seemed to check the Selenites in their desire for our progress for a moment. They faced one another, their queer heads moved, the twittering voices came quick and liquid. Then one of them, a lean, tall creature, with a sort of mantle added to the puttee in which the others were dressed, twisted his elephant trunk of a hand about Cavor’s waist, and pulled him gently to follow our guide, who again went on ahead.

Cavor resisted. “We may just as well begin explaining ourselves now. They may think we are new animals, a new sort of mooncalf perhaps! It is most important that we should show an intelligent interest from the outset.”

He began to shake his head violently. “No, no,” he said, “me not come on one minute. Me look at ’im.”

“Isn’t there some geometrical point you might bring in apropos of that affair?” I suggested, as the Selenites conferred again.

“Possibly a parabolic⁠—” he began.

He yelled loudly, and leaped six feet or more!