He spent much of his time reading the heavy volumes that the Professor gave him, and he had a lively interest in the mechanics of the rocket. He made friends readily with the workers and scientists, asking questions, learning facts. His thirst for knowledge of all things was extraordinary. He would go on long walks with one of his new friends, or sit relating to them some of his own experiences, though he was never one to brag. And he never spoke of his wealth. His bearing with servants was such that he was greatly beloved by them. However, he never made any overtures of friendship to Elsie Rollins, preferring rather the society of men. He showed that he appreciated the fact that the girl had set him on a pedestal and admired him, and his attitude to her was one of consideration, but during the seven months of his sojourn on the veld, she was never one of his intimates. He had great respect for Professor Rollins and they became as true friends as the disparity in age would permit. He had one friend to whom he appeared to be drawn on sight. That one was Richard Dorr.

  Richard Dorr was practically the only neighbor that the Rollinses had, aside from the inhabitants of the few native villages here and there. He was by profession a mining engineer, and somewhere in the hills was his gold mine, but on his word it was a poor sort, and he did not seem to spend much time there. With him had come the rumor of an affaire de cœur that had not gone well, and one could wonder, having seen him, how any woman could give him up.

  He was tall above the average, broad of shoulder and graceful of limb, strong and powerful, with the face of a Viking. His blue eyes were accustomed to looking over great distances. His hair was the color of old copper and crinkled and shone in the sun. His skin had been tanned nearly to the shade of his hair, so that he looked almost as if he had been cast out of reddish metal. He was a great humanitarian, and it was known that he was doing a lot to help the natives of Africa find themselves. All the servants within the Rollins’s compound adored him. Out in the world he might have become a great leader of men.

  At first he paid little attention to young Gleason. He noticed him no more than he noticed the other men around him. He and Professor Rollins were staunch friends and could sit for hours discussing the rocket around which the latter’s life revolved. Dorr had given many valuable suggestions for it, and had been at hand to help during the casting of parts that could not be obtained in any market. He had known and played with Elsie since she came to the veld at the age of ten when both her father and mother died. She had seen the friendship grow up between Gleason and Dorr, and noted the many hours they were together.

  Many evenings were spent in the little sitting room of the bungalow, with the three men reading and talking, while the girl sat in her corner mending and embroidering. Secretly she was initialing all of Gleason’s handkerchiefs and shirts. Often the four sat down to a game of bridge. One night she was surprised to see an expression she could not fathom on the face of Dorr as he sat studying the absorbed face of Dana Gleason sitting there reading one of the Professor’s heavy tomes. It was an expression that she could not interpret and it puzzled her for many a day.

  Then Dorr’s visits became less and less frequent and days passed before they would hear the beat of his horse’s hoofs across the veld. His absences were noted. Once the Professor intervened and a boy was sent to learn if he was sick. He returned with the answer that he was merely busy. And when he came, there was an evident surliness.

  The time drew near for the departure. One evening Rollins faced Gleason. “In just six days, my boy, you shall go!” he told him, and Rollins’s eyes shone brightly. There was no change of expression on the youth’s face; there was only a new glitter in his eyes.

  A messenger was dispatched to Dorr to apprise him of the fact. He came that night, and a quiet evening was spent. Not until he was ready to leave did he speak directly to Gleason. The Professor had gone into the kitchen for a glass of water; Miss Rollins was seated in the shadows, unnoticed.

  “So you are going through with this?” Dorr had suddenly demanded of Gleason.

  The other looked up in surprise. Then he straightened and got to his feet. “And what reason have you to believe that I should not?” he asked coldly.

  “I had, or rather thought I had, a reason, Dana Gleason, but I see now that I was wrong.” And without another word he had gone out of the door. Rollins returned surprised that he had gone without a word of farewell.

  This is an opportune moment to speak of the great vehicle that was to carry the youth on his way. Miss Rollins has described it to me and tried to make me understand the principle by which it worked. As I said before, I am a layman and have little knowledge of machinery.

  THE GREAT INVENTION

  The machine was a great cylindrical thing eight hundred feet long and about fifty feet in diameter. Its walls were very thick and its nose was pierced through with great springs. It was of smooth steel and the only things to break its surface were four great windows, many inches in thickness, set in its girdle.

  Within was a space hermetically sealed, in which were the living quarters for the traveler. These were slung on springs, which were set in slides in such a manner as to keep the chambers within on an even keel no matter how the shell might twist and turn. From the living quarters a passage led to the great windows, where small cells were provided for the observer. The living room was no larger than an ordinary chamber, fifteen feet by ten, and only seven feet high. The reason for the low ceiling was that once outside of Earth’s power, there would be no gravity, and the inmate of the room would find himself without weight, perhaps floating about the room. By pushing against the ceiling he could draw and push himself about. For the same reason rails were set around the room at convenient heights, and the floor, walls, and ceiling were heavily padded. Chairs, table, and cupboards were all fastened to the floor, and a low padded seat the width of a bed ran around the entire chamber. Here the voyager would sleep. Pillows and coverlets were stored in the cupboards beneath the seat.

  Beyond the living room was a small kitchen wherein was installed an electric stove, an iceless refrigerator, a cupboard for dishes, and a small sink. Food, in a concentrated form, and water were provided to last for almost a year’s time. There was also a goodly supply of fresh foods. The rocket carried its own dynamo with sufficient battery to keep it running for several months. For the purification of the air, the same device that is used in submarines, which renews the air by absorbing the carbon dioxide by soda lime and purifying the air chemically, was used. There were also tanks of fresh oxygen provided and by opening a valve this could be let into the room. Oxygen masks and portable cylinders were also stored to be used if the traveler found he could not breath the air of the alien planet. Adjoining the living quarters was the bathroom with all its necessary fixtures; the medicine chest was stored with innumerable tubes of toothpaste, powders, soaps, et cetera, together with medicines for first aid. Nothing, Miss Rollins said, was missing. Below was stored a small dismounted airplane to be put together for use in an emergency.

  The machinery that was to keep the rocket moving was set in the stern. Once released, powder was to be shot off automatically, causing explosions that furnished its source of power.*

  The hour came. For the two preceding days the house, laboratory, and compound seethed with activity, and last-minute preparations were made. Everyone was too excited to think, but Elsie Rollins continued to wonder why Richard Dorr had not made his appearance since the night he had spoken to Gleason so strangely.

  The rocket had been slung long since on the giant catapult that would shoot it off, and there was much climbing of the ladder and last inspection. Only newspaper reporters were missing. Then there was supper, when all the mechanics, helpers, engineers, and scientists gathered together for the last time to pay homage to the valiant youth who was putting his life into the care of the God of the Void. Toasts were drunk to success, to the Professor, to one and all. It was a very quiet meal, though the Professor was in high spirits and there was a slight flush on the cheek of Dana Gleason.

  The meal came to an end and Gleason retired to his sleeping room to gather his last personal effects. Miss Rollins had seen to it that his linen, his socks, and his handkerchiefs were all ready. He was also taking several suits of khaki. The last thing he did before leaving the bungalow was to stuff his pockets full of chocolate and cigarettes, though several large cases were stored in the rocket. A number of cases of whiskey for stimulant and medicinal purposes were also provided.

  It was just about time to start. The rocket was to be shot at exactly twenty-two and a half minutes after eight o’clock. How long the trip would take was not certain. Professor Rollins judged it would take about seven weeks. Of course, he had experimented with miniature rockets in a vacuum, but how fast the giant rocket would travel was conjectural.

  There were the farewells, the last bits of advice were being given, the last round of handshaking was going on. Gleason leaned over and kissed Elsie Rollins’s cheek gently and then he was climbing the ladder with the Professor, who had one more word to say. And so Dana Gleason, Jr., disappeared from the sight of men into the aerial vehicle. Rollins went in but reappeared in a few minutes and started his way down the ladder.

  Then came the unexpected. All were too engrossed with the leave-taking to hear the beat of horses’ hoofs and none was aware of Richard Dorr’s arrival, until he had his hands on the ladder. In his hurry and excitement, he almost threw Rollins off his balance. Already Gleason was drawing to the great door, fitting in its socket like the breach block of a cannon, when Dorr slipped within.

  For another minute the door stood open, then slowly and ponderously it closed—just at the moment that Professor Rollins placed his hand on the release lever. It is doubtful whether, in the high tension of that moment, he realized that a second passenger was on his way to Mars!

  There was a deafening explosion, the force of which sent large pieces of machinery flying through the air, killing two mechanics, wounding several others, and all but killing the Professor. He was knocked unconscious and did not recover for many minutes, so that he was not an eyewitness to that awful departure.

  Professor Rollins now looked up from his study of the manuscript the silver man had brought him. His face was screwed up into a grimace such as a child would make, his mouth trembling. “But … but this contains nothing but facts about this unknown planet,” he muttered.

  “Yes,” said Sa Dak, “Dana Gleason has made a worthy survey of the planet. I find it complete.”

  “That is all right for the universities, but that isn’t what I want, man. I want Dana’s own story. What happened? What happened?”

  The other smiled gently. “That is all there is, sir.”

  Tears came to the eyes of the old man. “And I want more. I want facts. I must know just what occurred, everything that took place, the story, the story …” He looked up helplessly. “You say they are well and happy. How did they find this happiness and contentment?”

  “It is a long story, sir.”

  “You know it then? You will tell me? You were an eyewitness?”

  “Yes, I was an eyewitness. And since you insist, sir, I shall do my best. In my desk I have the diary of Dana Gleason; that may interest you. Will you accompany me to my machine, sir, or shall I bring it here?”

  “We will go with you, only let’s hurry!” cried the old man in his excitement.

  “And you, Miss Rollins?” inquired Sa Dak.

  She nodded, then remembering that she was not dressed for outdoors, asked that we wait a moment. She returned very soon, with a light coat on. We went to the Yodverl, whose glass surface was aglow with its inner lights.

  My host and the Professor walked ahead. Miss Rollins and I followed. Sa Dak was trying to direct the eye of the scientist to the construction of the great vehicle modeled after the Professor’s invention, but the old man paid no attention; he was intent on hearing the story. I told Miss Rollins something of my abduction, and she told me a little more of what had preceded that astounding departure. Soon we entered the vehicle.

  Tor was there to greet us. Sa Dak explained why we were there, and then he turned to us. “Now,” he said, “if you will accompany me through the vehicle I can demonstrate to you some of the devices which Dana Gleason and Richard Dorr found in use on Abrui. That will make the telling of the story easier for me.”

  THE HOUSE OF A “NEIGHBOR”

  I was beginning to feel a little weak on account of my shoulder, but, forcing it from my mind, I followed the little party. We went into the room in which I first found myself. “This,” said our host, “is called the ‘atol’ or main living room of the Abruian home. Here is where the family gathers to eat their meals and discuss the day’s events. Here they greet their friends, here they start the day with their morning swim. The lowliest home possesses its swimming pool, its potted flowers, its scenic walls. The scene you see depicted here is typical of Abruian scenery.

  “In arranging the rooms in my rocket, I have tried to reproduce exactly my home in Abrui,” he continued as he led us to the next room, which proved to be a small reproduction of the first room, with a smaller pool, and fewer flowers. There were four small doorways, two in either wall, leading to bedrooms. The scene on the walls was that of a garden. A group of two or three women were seated on low stone benches under the shade of some low trees, and a short distance away, two men were practicing some knife play, each holding a short dagger in either hand with which he attempted to break through the other’s guard. On another wall several children were seated in a circle, with the markers of some strange game in their hands. A golden slave girl stood nearby with a silver baby in her arms. A game of tag, played by youths of about fifteen or sixteen, was in progress among some shrubberies. Another slave was working in a flowerbed. It was a happy lifelike scene and the reproductions of the people of Abrui were very fine. I noticed that the costume worn by the women was exactly like that worn by Tor, while the children wore suits of the same style, somewhat abbreviated. One of the women wore a long flowing cape that fastened to the shoulder and reached to the ground. The colors used were of every shade and hue and some were unknown to us. The light that shone over everything was rosy and seemed to come from the overlarge pinkish globe that I had seen painted in the atol, and had objected to. It was in truth the second sun of Abrui!

  “This room,” said Sa Dak, “is called the ‘cof,’ and is the inner room of the house. Here is one of the bedrooms,” and he brushed aside the curtains of one of the small doorways, revealing a small cell-like chamber furnished simply with a wide couch, a chair, a chest of drawers, and a long mirror. “In these rooms the family sleep, but this chamber is sacred to the women of the house. Here they come when not disposed to mingle with their friends, and only the family is allowed entrance. Here the mistress of the house carries on her affairs and directs the welfare of her house.”

  The next room, we were informed, was the kitchen, though at first glance it was no more than a small chamber with the walls of opaque glass. However, by touching a small lever close to the doorway, it was transformed. The glass covering opened out, revealing shelf after shelf containing various dishes. On one side was a glass-enclosed refrigerator and we could see the array of food placed within. All around the room projected a piece of smooth glass about two feet into the room. This could be utilized for the table. I saw neither stove nor any other means for cooking.

  We were enlightened, however. Removing a small dish made of glass from one of the shelves, our host took from the refrigerator (which I call by that name, although there was no visible means for the preservation of food) a strange vegetable about the size of a grapefruit. This he dropped into the glass dish he held in his hand. Immediately before our eyes a change took place. The food began to cook! We saw it soften, its juices run, and a delicious odor filled the room. In less than five minutes the vegetable was entirely cooked. Taking three small metal plates from another cupboard, our host then served the vegetable on the plates, cutting it with a knife of glass. Tor went for three spoonlike articles that had tiny prongs on their tips somewhat like our ice cream forks at home. The vegetable was quite good.

  Taking another glass dish, the man poured into it some milk from a metal container and, dropping into it several small pellets, he stirred it well, while we watched the process that was taking place. The milk had begun to freeze! When we ate it we found it was somewhat like ice cream, flavored with something that tasted like sweetened cinnamon.

  We all marveled over these utensils, and our host went on to explain that the “cooking dishes” were treated with a solution derived from radium, which caused the food placed within to cook immediately. It was the same for the “freezing dishes.” Only the inside of the dishes were treated, so that it was possible to hold them in one’s hand while the change was taking place. The inside of the “refrigerator” had been treated in a similar way, but to a lesser degree than the dishes, so that foods could be kept indefinitely and still be edible. How my wife, who is quite a cook, would have envied such cooking methods!

  “I shall now show you our ‘stable,’” went on Sa Dak, and led us to a small chamber. Like the others, it was scrupulously clean. A low manger was arranged in one wall, and there were four of the prettiest little creatures I have ever seen. They were somewhat smaller than our cows, standing no more than three feet high, and looked somewhat like deer, with soft liquid eyes and faces that were doglike. One was a “bull” while two had the large, developed udders of a cow. The fourth creature was no more than a calf.

  “These are called muti. The little one there was born since leaving Abrui!”

  The little creatures had looked up at our entrance, and in their eyes was an expression of intelligence that is never seen in the eyes of earthly cattle. Their master made some soft sounds in his throat, and there was response from the bull, which made a like sound. For a minute or two they continued and it almost seemed as if they were actually talking. “Yes,” went on the man, “we have discovered the language of our beasts and make it a practice to converse with them!”