Page 68 - THE TIME MACHINE

The Time Machine

‘Then, again, about the Time Machine: something, I
knew not what, had taken it into the hollow pedestal of
the White Sphinx. Why? For the life of me I could not
imagine. Those waterless wells, too, those flickering

pillars. I felt I lacked a clue. I felt—how shall I put it?
Suppose you found an inscription, with sentences here and
there in excellent plain English, and interpolated
therewith, others made up of words, of letters even,
absolutely unknown to you? Well, on the third day of my
visit, that was how the world of Eight Hundred and Two
Thousand Seven Hundred and One presented itself to me!
‘That day, too, I made a friend—of a sort. It happened
that, as I was watching some of the little people bathing in
a shallow, one of them was seized with cramp and began
drifting downstream. The main current ran rather swiftly,
but not too strongly for even a moderate swimmer. It will
give you an idea, therefore, of the strange deficiency in
these creatures, when I tell you that none made the
slightest attempt to rescue the weakly crying little thing
which was drowning before their eyes. When I realized
this, I hurriedly slipped off my clothes, and, wading in at a
point lower down, I caught the poor mite and drew her
safe to land. A little rubbing of the limbs soon brought her
round, and I had the satisfaction of seeing she was all right

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