It was on the third day, if my memory serves me right, that I saw
the lad killed.  It was the only occasion on which I actually saw the
Martians feed.  After that experience I avoided the hole in the wall
for the better part of a day.  I went into the scullery, removed the
door, and spent some hours digging with my hatchet as silently as
possible; but when I had made a hole about a couple of feet deep the
loose earth collapsed noisily, and I did not dare continue.  I lost
heart, and lay down on the scullery floor for a long time, having no
spirit even to move.  And after that I abandoned altogether the idea
of escaping by excavation.