`Course he did!' said Bruno. `He's welly fond of fetching things.'

Mein Herr looked so thoroughly bewildered that I thought it best to change the subject. `What a useful thing a pocket-map is!' I remarked.

`That's another thing we've learned from your Nation,' said Mein Herr, `map-making. But we've carried it much further than you. What do you consider the largest map that would be really useful?'

`About six inches to the mile.'

`Only six inches!' exclaimed Mein Herr. `We very soon got to six yards to the mile. Then we tried a hundred yards to the mile. And then came the grandest idea of all! We actually made a map of the country, on the scale of a mile to the mile!'

`Have you used it much?' I enquired.

`It has never been spread out, yet,' said Mein Herr: `the farmers objected: they said it would cover the whole country, and shut out the sunlight! So we now use the country itself, as its own map, and I assure you it does nearly as well. Now let me ask you another question. What is the smallest world you would care to inhabit?'

`I know!' cried Bruno, who was listening intently. `I'd like a little teenytiny world, just big enough for Sylvie and me!'

`Then you would have to stand on opposite sides of it,' said Mein Herr. `And so you would never see your sister at all!'

`And I'd have no lessons,' said Bruno.

`You don't mean to say you've been trying experiments in that direction!' I said.

`Well, not experiments exactly. We do not profess to construct planets. But a scientific friend of mine, who has made several balloon-voyages, assures me he has visited a planet so small that he could walk right round it in twenty minutes! There had been a great battle, just before his visit, which had ended rather oddly: the vanquished army ran away at full speed, and in a very few minutes found themselves face-to-face with the victorious army, who were marching home again, and who were so frightened at finding themselves between two armies, that they surrendered at once! Of course that lost them the battle, though, as a matter of fact, they had killed all the soldiers on the other side.'

`Killed soldiers ca'n't run away,' Bruno thoughtfully remarked.

`"Killed" is a technical word,' replied Mein Herr. `In the little planet I speak of, the bullets were made of soft black stuff, which marked everything it touched. So, after a battle, all you had to do was to count how many soldiers on each side were "killed" -- that means "marked on the back", for marks in front didn't count.'

`Then you couldn't "kill" any, unless they ran away?' I said.

`My scientific friend found out a better plan than that. He pointed out that, if only the bullets were sent the other way round the world, they would hit the enemy in the back. After that, the worst marksmen were considered the best soldiers; and the very worst of all always got First Prize.'

`And how did you decide which was the very worst of all?'

`Easily. The best possible shooting is, you know, to hit what is exactly in front of you: so of course the worst possible is to hit what is exactly behind you.'