ighs.

"What shall we do with the monster?" asked Oceaxe. Without waiting for a
suggestion, she patted its hideous face with her hand. "Fly away home! I
may want you some other time."

It gave a stupid grunt, elevated itself on its legs again, and, after
half running, half flying for a few yards, rose awkwardly into the air,
and paddled away in the same direction from which they had come. They
watched it out of sight, and then Oceaxe started to cross the neck of
land, followed by Maskull.

Branchspell's white rays beat down on them with pitiless force. The sky
had by degrees become cloudless, and the wind had dropped entirely. The
ground was a rich riot of vividly coloured ferns, shrubs, and grasses.
Through these could be seen here and there the golden chalky soil--and
occasionally a glittering, white metallic boulder. Everything looked
extraordinary and barbaric. Maskull was at last walking in the weird
Ifdawn Marest which had created such strange feelings in him when seen
from a distance.... And now he felt no wonder or curiosity at all, but
only desired to meet human beings--so intense had grown his will. He
longed to test his powers on his fellow creatures, and nothing else
seemed of the least importance to him.

On the peninsula all was coolness and delicate shade. It resembled a
large copse, about two acres in extent. In the heart of the tangle of
small trees and undergrowth was a partially cleared space--perhaps the
roots of the giant tree growing in the centre had killed off the smaller
fry all around it. By the side of the tree sparkled a little, bubbling
fountain, whose water was iron-red. The precipices on all sides,
overhung with thorns, flowers, and creepers, invested the enclosure with
an air of wild and charming seclusion--a mythological mountain god might
have dwelt here.

Maskull's restless eye left everything, to fall on the two men who
formed the centre of the picture.

One was reclining, in the ancient Grecian fashion of banqueters on a
tall couch of mosses, sprinkled with flowers; he rested on one arm, and
was eating a kind of plum, with calm enjoyment. A pile of these plums
lay on the couch beside him. The over-spreading branches of the tree
completely sheltered him from the sun. His small, boyish form was clad
in a rough skin, leaving his limbs naked. Maskull could not tell from
his face whether he were a young boy or a grown man. The features were
smooth, soft, and childish, their express