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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-The Time Machine by H.G. Wells


60

CHAPTER 9

‘WE EMERGED from the palace while the sun was still in part
above the horizon. I was determined to reach the White Sphinx
early the next morning, and ere the dusk I purposed pushing
through the woods that had stopped me on the previous journey.
My plan was to go as far as possible that night, and then, building
a fire, to sleep in the protection of its glare. Accordingly, as we
went along I gathered any sticks or dried grass I saw, and
presently had my arms full of such litter. Thus loaded, our
progress was slower than I had anticipated, and besides Weena
was tired. And I began to suffer from sleepiness too; so that it was
full night before we reached the wood. Upon the shrubby hill of its
edge Weena would have stopped, fearing the darkness before us;
but a singular sense of impending calamity, that should indeed
have served me as a warning, drove me onward. I had been
without sleep for a night and two days, and I was feverish and
irritable. I felt sleep coming upon me, and the Morlocks with it.
‘While we hesitated, among the black bushes behind us, and dim
against their blackness, I saw three crouching figures. There was
scrub and long grass all about us, and I did not feel safe from their
insidious approach. The forest, I calculated, was rather less than a
mile across. If we could get through it to the bare hillside, there, as
it seemed to me, was an altogether safer resting-place; I thought
that with my matches and my camphor I could contrive to keep my
path illuminated through the woods. Yet it was evident that if I
was to flourish matches with my hands I should have to abandon
my firewood; so, rather reluctantly, I put it down. And then it
came into my head that I would amaze our friends behind by
lighting it. I was to discover the atrocious folly of this proceeding,
but it came to my mind as an ingenious move for covering our
retreat.

‘I don’t know if you have ever thought what a rare thing flame
must be in the absence of man and in a temperate climate. The
sun’s heat is rarely strong enough to burn, even when it is focused
by dewdrops, as is sometimes the case in more tropical districts.
Lightning may blast and blacken, but it rarely gives rise to
widespread fire. Decaying vegetation may occasionally smoulder
with the heat of its fermentation, but this rarely results in flame. In
this decadence, too, the art of fire-making had been forgotten on
the earth. The red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood
were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena.
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