what I've been thinking," he said; "that's what I've been
thinking. After Weybridge I went south--thinking. I saw what was up.
Most of the people were hard at it squealing and exciting themselves.
But I'm not so fond of squealing. I've been in sight of death once or
twice; I'm not an ornamental soldier, and at the best and worst,
death--it's just death. And it's the man that keeps on thinking comes
through. I saw everyone tracking away south. Says I, 'Food won't
last this way,' and I turned right back. I went for the Martians like
a sparrow goes for man. All round"--he waved a hand to the
horizon--"they're starving in heaps, bolting, treading on each other.
. . ."

He saw my face, and halted awkwardly.

"No doubt lots who had money have gone away to France," he said. He
seemed to hesitate whether to apologise, met my eyes, and went on:
"There's food all about here. Canned things in shops; wines, spirits,
mineral waters; and the water mains and drains are empty. Well, I was
telling you what I was thinking. 'Here's intelligent things,' I said,
'and it seems they want us for food. First, they'll smash us up--ships,
machines, guns, cities, all the order and organisation. All
that will go. If we were the size of ants we might pull through. But
we're not. It's all too bulky to stop. That's the first certainty.'
Eh?"

I assented.

"It is; I've thought it out. Very well, then--next; at present
we're caught as we're wanted. A Martian has only to go a few miles to
get a crowd on the run. And I saw one, one day, out by Wandsworth,
picking houses to pieces and routing among the wreckage. But they
won't keep on doing that. So soon as they've settled all our guns and
ships, and smashed our railways, and done all the things they are
doing over there, they will begin catching us systematic, picking the
best and storing us in cages and things. That's what they will start
doing in a bit. Lord! They haven't begun on us yet. Don't you see
that?"

"Not begun!" I exclaimed.

"Not begun. All that's happened so far is through our not having
the sense to keep quiet--worrying them with guns and such foolery. And
losing our heads, and rushing off in crowds to where there wasn't any
more safety than where we were. They don't want to bother us yet.
They're making their things--making all the things they couldn't bring
with them, getting things ready for the rest of their people. Very
likely that's why the cy