For a moment it was motionless; the engine had been stopped, and
all was silent except for the gentle rustling of the cane in the field.
The unknown operator did not change his position in the slightest. Then
the craft began to move over the surface, in a jerky lurching fashion
which indicated a very rough piece of ground. At the same time a queer,
leathery squeaking came to the engineer's borrowed ears; he concluded
that the machine was being sorely strained by the motion. At the time he
was puzzled to account for the motion itself. Either there was another
occupant of the craft, who had climbed out and was now pushing the thing
along the ground, or else some form of silent mechanism was operating
the wheels upon which, presumably, the craft was mounted. Shortly the
motion stopped altogether.
It was then that Smith noticed something he had so far ignored because
he knew his own dinner hour was approaching. His agent was hungry, like
himself. He noticed it because, just then, he received a very definite
impression of the opposite feeling; the agent was eating lunch of some
sort, and enjoying it. There was no doubt about this. All that Smith
could do was to wish, for the hundredth time, that he could look around
a little and see what was being eaten, and how.
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