Yet I must needs go and well nigh spoil everything by over-solicitude for my charge.
Had we pushed off at once there can be no doubt my credit as a spirit would have been established for all time in the Thither capital, and the belief universally held that Heru had been wafted away by my enchantment to the regions of the unknown.

The idea would have gradually grown into a tradition, receiving embellishments in succeeding generations, until little wood children at their mother's knees came to listen in awe to the story of how, once upon a time, the Sun-god loved a beautiful maiden, and drove his fiery chariot across the black night-fields to her prison door, scorching to death all who strove to gainsay him.

How she flew into his arms and drove away before all men's eyes, in his red car, into the west, and was never seen again--the foresaid Sun-god being I, Gulliver Jones, a much under-paid lieutenant in the glorious United States navy, with a packet of overdue tailors' bills in my pocket, and nothing lovable about me save a partiality for meddling with other people's affairs.
This is how it might have been, but I spoiled a pretty fairy story and changed the whole course of Martian history by going back at that moment in search of a wrap for my prize.

Right on top of the steps was a man with a lantern, and half a glance showed me it was the harbour master met with on my first landing.
"Good evening," he said suspiciously.

"May I ask what you are doing on the quay at such an hour as this ?" "Doing?
Oh, nothing in particular, just going out for a little fishing." "And your companion the lady--is she too fond of fishing ?" I swore between my teeth, but could not prevent the fellow walking to the quay edge and casting his light full upon the figure of the girl below.