That second start was the most foolhardy thing I ever did.  For it
was manifest the Martians were about us.  No sooner had the curate
overtaken me than we saw either the fighting-machine we had seen
before or another, far away across the meadows in the direction of Kew
Lodge.  Four or five little black figures hurried before it across the
green-grey of the field, and in a moment it was evident this Martian
pursued them.  In three strides he was among them, and they ran
radiating from his feet in all directions.  He used no Heat-Ray to
destroy them, but picked them up one by one.  Apparently he tossed
them into the great metallic carrier which projected behind him, much
as a workman's basket hangs over his shoulder.