Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

The
CENTAURIANS
A NOVEL

BY

BIAGI

BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO.

835 Broadway, New York

BRANCH OFFICES: CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, BALTIMORE, ATLANTA, NORFOLK, DES MOINES, IOWA

Copyright, 1911,

By

L. D. BIAGI.

CONTENTS

“The Centaurians.”

CHAPTER I.

Twelve long years of European travel had failed to stale the beauties of my own country. I compared the exquisite, restful view, to the garish expansiveness of foreign panorama. Though fagged and frayed with experience it was a tingling delight to gaze once again upon this fair, smiling, home country, whose mountain-lined distance of vivid heliotrope formed superb contrast to waving fields of deep yellow corn.

I flung aside the book I was reading with its repellant thoughts; the dewy freshness of a bright July morning weaned me from poppy-drugged ideas. I faltered at the grand finale of this wonderful collection of moods and wandered out in the glorious sunshine and fields beyond. Upon a huge mound of hay I lolled, enjoying the delicate fragrance of roses mingled with the heavy, pungent scent of carnations, and lazily watched blue butterflies flitting above, while black field reptiles ventured close, wondering what species I might be, then vanishing at the least movement. The hum of insects seemingly swelled to the city’s roar; all nature was active with industry, I alone was the drone, though master of this rural, enchanting, warm, lazy scene, which, like a veil, spread over the vast area of my possessions.

Powerfully wealthy, I gloat in enjoyment and exist merely to squander the fabulous riches inherited from ancestors who worshipped at the shrine of Accumulation, that I, the culminating period, should revel in Profligacy. Value has no significance and to me there is naught under the blue heavens that is priceless, except perhaps—a new experience. I came from a queer clan, we could date our premier back to the twelfth century; a Florentine dealer in precious stones, whose interesting history filled one of the documents handed to me when I reached the age of supposed discretion. Originality was our motto. All were gifted with keenness and enterprise, though dotted periodically with mania—just a dash, you understand, to aid personality and create distinction. Avarice was strongly developed, dulling fear forcing us to brave many perils, and we scorned the warning contained in the great chest of documents which even I failed to unseal. We had survived many disasters and twice narrowly escaped oblivion. We possessed a doubtful legend and closely guarded a buried tomb of foulness, yet with all our cunning two fools nearly snuffed the name out of existence during the fifteenth, and again at the close of the seventeenth century.

My thoughts often dwelt upon these afflicted kinsmen; both had been mad, of course, their chameleon brains merely reflected the brilliant glints of their rare collection of gems. One coveted the green light flaring in the crown of Isis, and early mastered the knowledge that all men perfect when they are too old to profit by it—anticipation is the nectar of realization. He was radiant in longing for the mystic green he could never possess, and existed in a daring dreamland that all men desire but never contemplate. His marvelous collection of emeralds formed the foundation of our almost fabulous wealth. It was a similar malady that afflicted the later kinsman, who closed his career with a rabidness that slanted a muddy shade consuming centuries of gigantic endeavor to clear. His madness lacked reverence, but keenness, determination proved talent had he not been abnormal. He conceived a frenzied desire to possess a famous jewel with a rich setting of superstition and priceless value. The cutting fascinated him, he jeered at warnings and made offers of purchase with a persistency equal his mania; when realizing the wealth of the world contained not the value of the stone he called it fate and stole the gem. Years later he was found murdered, horribly mutilated. Aware of the fate destined for him, he reasoned a life forfeited justly covered all debts—the stone was our property. He feared to trust it out of his keeping, however, and when the final, awful moment arrived, his insane cunning outwitted the assassins—he swallowed the stone. I have it sunk in a broad band of gold.

After the exploit of this fanatic we scattered over the world, and though our name suffered torturing abbreviation, we were easily traced by our wealth. Luck followed us in all undertakings, riches accumulated, but doubting the truth of the superstition surrounding the stone it is indisputable that from the date it entered our possession love departed. We were known as a cold, calculating, heartless people, with the doubtful intellect usually accompanying wealth. We purchased affection as we would any saleable bauble, and lived the life of indifference and final dislike the purchased article always brings. The curse was a short, loveless existence, crowned with intangible longings.

I recollect very little of my parents, both having passed away during my infancy, but I am liberally supplied with relatives who are disagreeably vivid, treacherous, small, scheming, gifted with a keen eye for profit—just relatives.

It was a kind providence, chiefly law, that placed me under the protection of Middleton & Co., a trio of the ablest and shrewdest of lawyers. They sent me to college, where I passed some years, though really it was not necessary. The intellect of a millionaire is generally accredited heavy with metal, though when backed with distinction, a most desirable bric-a-brac. I early discovered nothing was expected of me except good-nature and generosity. The commonest attributes were denied me, and though of a sunny temperament, eventually I grew bitter, scorning the mercenary. To be constantly striving to force a measure above companionable appendage was a cruel trial. However, my college life was not so difficult when I crushed the romantic nobility of youth. I became resigned to my value and easily tolerated the adulation my wealth inspired. I was extravagantly generous and considered a rare good fellow, who gave rare good times. Occasionally I indulged in spasms of ambition, and when controlled by this feverish sensation, vowed to out-class the associates who imposed upon me. I had a vague idea of Fame, Worth gained through merit, not purchased. These attacks invariably visited me after an evening passed with Professor Saxlehner, the only individual in the wide world who understood me and honestly believed in my possession of brains, and who pronounced my name always with full entirety—Virgillius Salucci. Saxlehner was a man of brilliant mind, quiet, simple, seeking solitude and delving deep in all manner of mysteries.

My gold carried little weight with him, he was sincerely fond of me and consequently rated me soundly for all indiscretions, declaring I would regret wasting the best years of my life and deadening my vast talents—though he failed to state in what particular line my genius lay, I believed him. Frequently I sought him, weary and in need of sympathy, but he regularly refrained giving any, telling me I was simply suffering the dissatisfaction of inferior association and he could not understand my persistence in such a course. He begged me to cultivate seriousness and avoid flattering clowns, frivolity was altogether out of my line, I was born for greater, higher things.

Young and fond of pleasure, I ignored most of his advice, yet his words vividly impressed me, and in after years, profiting by his counsel, I became known as a man of many ideas, a trifle eccentric, and notoriously willing to fling away a fortune for a new experience. Saxlehner and I became great friends, yet with the ending of my college days we drifted apart. I plunged into the social gayety that awaits all rich young men, and learned more in one month of idleness than in all the years passed at college. I became wild, fast, yet deceived all with assumed unsophisticatedness and was a great trial to Middleton & Co., who kept a sharp lookout for squalls, remonstrating and warning me of disasters they could not steer me out of. Maliciously I parried with them, while debauchery fostered ennui and the dormant characteristics of my people roused to activity impregnating my system with the pessimist’s germ. Much encountered subtlety and unscrupulousness ceased causing anxiety. I developed an impenetrable armor of caution and sought diversion in heartless analysis—the world is money-mad. Lovelessness, the curse of my people, was upon me. It caused no unhappiness, we had all lived through it, but I alone discovered and realized—it developed with mature reason, we were not born with it. Vaguely I dreamed of congeniality and calm affection but craved neither, and anything deeper seemed annoying. I was incapable of passion, consequently could not inspire it. Iron against all sensations, my callousness astounded even me. I scorned the temptations other men embraced. Contact with the world robbed me of all romance. I lived my life in a few months. In demeanor I was simplicity itself, jovial, gullible as ever, but where formerly I sought enjoyment I was now indifferent, content to bask in the supreme delight of proving my convictions correct. I never committed an error. Disinterestedness, gratitude, are chimeras. Through my reduced expenses Middleton & Co. figured, and honestly believed the gradual change meant matrimony; in no other way could they comprehend my sudden respectability. Middleton harped continually on the subject, Rollins made it the topic of conversation every time I visited his home, and Burke smiled suggestively, but refrained from remarks—he was not the orator of the firm.

As daughters did not ornament any of the three homes I became partially convinced of my duty, and following Middleton’s advice began a series of inspection of my numerous cousins.

With the kind assistance of Rollins’s wife (who believed herself too young for Rollins, but wasn’t), I finally selected a tall, thin young woman, with rolling blue eyes, red cheeks, and rather pretty brown hair. Accustomed to quasi-fresh-wilted buds, I was attracted to the youth and apparent innocence of the girl. She was Carolyn, nineteen, with old age upon her at twenty-five. She was languid, insipid, and possessed the stereotyped conversation of nearly all girls of her age, who arrange their hair and dress all alike. She sang two songs in Italian, without knowing anything about it, and worried through four instrumental solos with murderous skill; also, she painted some, but Mamma gave it great importance and became a nuisance in her persistence that all should inspect the awful attempts, which were merely daubs even after the teacher had “gone over them.” This was the extent of Carolyn’s accomplishments, which opened preliminaries every time I ventured near her, and wise people versed in prediction aided by Mamma, had us married early in the skirmish. But Mamma was difficult, Carolyn impossible, and both possessed an omnivorous appetite for courtesy. Like boa-constrictors, they swallowed and swallowed and were always famished; and suddenly an unaccountable chill came upon me and I discovered the right was mine to live my own life. I could see no reason why I should burden myself with this great nonentity, this Carolyn, for the sole purpose of permitting her to inherit my wealth when she became my widow. It was an unnaturally cold conclusion and Middleton’s pointedness became annoying. I advised him to get the matrimonial “bug” out of his head and quit bothering me. I did not regret Carolyn, but the affair was rather unfortunate, and she was young to be afflicted with the disappointment that all girls find so bitter and take so hard. Actuated by profound selfishness I renounced every inclination toward matrimony; martyr-like I vowed the lasciviousness of my race would end with me. I would live to squander this vast wealth and lead the ideal existence the poor imagine the wealthy enjoy. Possibly I would experience happiness, but in a superficial way, the intense I abhorred. Middleton & Co. were dumbfounded at my strange behavior, their consternation was rather interesting because unnecessary, but eventually the three kindly gentlemen greatly bored me, and to oust all unpleasant association I stated my long-contemplated intention of touring the world. No objections were offered. I was to send news regularly of my doings and the firm was to be notified at once should anything unusual occur.

Loaded with directions and accompanied by a trio of gay, young friends, I started out for adventure. Scarcely had we reached the old world, when I decided to get rid of my traveling companions. They were nice, jolly boys, restless for diversion and amusing because of their eternal appreciation of enjoyment, but I desired freedom, wishing to discover and cultivate any talents I might be gifted with, and to me it was unlimited opportunity, being in a strange land, surrounded by strangers. My three friends early discovered their pursuits were not mine; we parted without any ill-feeling. Then I proceeded to waste my time in a thousand ways, never accomplishing anything, yet perfectly sincere all the time, child-like in my own ambition, horribly cynical regarding others. I became known, of course, as a man of vast ideas, lacking the concentration that promotes success. I was constantly inspired with thoughts that rarely visit other people, but I kept my own counsel and encouraged the inventive ideas that assailed me. Eventually various learned people heard of me and my positive convictions and extended much courtesy while guiding me through all the intricate labyrinths that ever created stupefaction. Greatly encouraged and as happy as I ever expected to be, I became absorbed in that which three-fourths of the world are ever seeking and which the other fourth cannot comprehend—Fame.

Not hampered with advice from individuals who fancied themselves superior mortals, I entered upon heavy duties, much disappointment—which failed to affect me as I brought it upon myself—and many, many years of waste and vast expense. At one time I believed myself destined to become a famous inventor, but after repeated failures I realized the utter impossibility of my productions. However, I was encouraged to continue my “experiments,” being considered very promising, and it was the popular impression that in the general confusion I might hit upon something entirely original. I was energetic and deserved to. My inclinations were for work. I believed entirely in myself and continued ambitious till suddenly I developed a pet theory which came upon me unawares, yet took entire possession of my thoughts. For some time I worried along under this compelling influence, then suddenly, without regret, thrust aside inventive ambitions and with my usual determination to succeed entered a college of medicine. Undaunted by the years of study before me I grasped hopefully all problems labelled hazardous and avoided by others, and became an enthusiast when I discovered my theory a fact undreamed of. It was daring, yet I never faltered delving deep in the science that would create universal benefit, convince the skeptical, and perfect success. Finally came the day when knowledge forced me to propound my theory to the medical fraternity. An opportunity to demonstrate was all I asked. I was listened to and not exactly laughed at—that was the impression I made upon the learned gentlemen. All admired the suggestion, yet would give no encouragement. Frankly it was hinted that I was seeking fame, notoriety, not the advancement of science, yet the theory was feasible, though crude, a lifetime problem, and—no one dared back me. Through all unfavorable criticism I retained my enthusiasm and sought opportunity. My startling theory received world-wide attention and I lectured all over Europe. When the opportunity presented itself I demonstrated my theory and—failed. The subject was the victim of a shocking accident and could not have lived. I prolonged his life five months. During that time he became the picture of health and progressed rapidly up to a certain degree, then science utterly failed to benefit. He never regained strength, was unable to walk, and if permitted to stand alone sank like pulp to the floor. The case interested and puzzled the whole medical clientele, the end was unexpected and astonishing.

“Your theory is nil, unnatural,” I was informed. “Nothing living has the power to survive the shock of test. The subject from the start is doomed to inward decay—you kill the strength nerves,” and I had “grasped a suggestion that only a master’s mind could complete.” Raw, immature, my great theory might be, but it was neither unnatural or impracticable; some bright, young student would master the science that I, through lack of ability for application (?) failed to perfect. Beneath the sun there is nothing new. The wonderful theory I dallied with had been in practice centuries ago and with many other valuable sciences had through disuse fallen out of existence.

The intellect of Time is degenerating with Earth. We grasp and marvel at that at which the ancient giant intellects simply nodded approval. Modernity is the reflection of miraculous originality of the early ages.

My career as a physician came abruptly to an end. I was wearied, and for the benefit of science would sacrifice nothing. That which had animated me now became an abomination. The profession of medicine had not scope enough to bring contentment or make me realize the vast ambition of pride. Vanity! vanity! vanity! I floated rudderless upon this cloudy lake and plunged into the huge, sulky, black waves of Disappointment, yet for an instant I gazed in the far distance—beautiful, enchanting, where the sun of Fame gilded the enticing pool of Success.

From my gigantic blunder I had the courage to extricate myself, renouncing the delights that absorb indolent others who declare the world an illusion and life an exertion. I donated large sums to various colleges to be expended in penetrating the mysterious science I failed in, then for years wandered over the world, aimless, melancholy, craving, ever searching the grand, supreme idea that I knew would reach me before peace.

India, that great field of abundant superstition, mildly restored my shattered energies. The occult science in its most malignant form attacked me. I was enchanted with fanatical proverbs tantalizing in their promise of what?—nothing.

I engaged a dwelling and furnished it up with barbaric splendor, then watched the subtle operations of the strange people I surrounded myself with. They possessed extraordinary imaginations and narrative powers, and, because it was impossible, I developed a keen desire to experience some of the delights these fanatics extolled.

Following instructions, I spent weeks in the mountains, inhaling dank vapors and camped in the wilderness, fasting for days, reading a book—for what purpose I never discovered—and ended it all as unimaginative as ever. I tried my utmost to become convinced of the supernatural, but never for an instant lost the knowledge I was an ass to so ardently pursue Folly, in her mock seriousness. I became shamed with the realization of the utter nonsense I permitted my intellect to roam in and the wild-eyed fanatics with their shrieks and convulsions and frenzied endeavors to convince, nauseated me when I discovered it was all acting, mere acting, and they were less sincere than I.

The fanaticism, immorality, the full rein given to sensualism and vulgar superstition disgusted me. Naught but undeveloped or diseased minds are convinced of such farces—an obnoxious weight upon civilization. My cold, calm, reasoning of the subject flashed clear, strong, like a vivid blaze of light, I stood alone but powerfully in the right. My ideas were ahead of my time, that was all. I suddenly ended my researches in the occult.

I became a worshipper of nature, and gloated in the sunset with its rare, rich coloring; in rapture I gazed upon the ocean with its tracery, lace-flecked waves and grand swell bursting in deep roar. I calmed my vision with the azure vaults above gradually deepening to a purple beyond imitation to be studded with billions and trillions of brilliant twinkling lights, then at the white, mysterious globe, sailing majestically alone; and finally at noontide, I worshipped the brazen, hot splendor of the Sun, and asked what was more awe-inspiring or worthy of devotion than this vast, beautiful Something, we call Nature. With joy I realized I alone had solved the mystery all were struggling to solve. Nature, divine, beautiful Nature, ruled the universe. Continually before us is laid this grand example in its chaste regulations which never offends, yet we the puny, tainted, little atoms, existing in this wonderful purity, continually offend all laws of Nature. If we formed our lives to compare with the vast splendor shining ever before us we would be divine. Eternity, the germ of imagination, soars to wonderful spheres, yet never reaches the sublime summit of the vast glory of the universe. And I still searched for the one great inspiration I knew I was destined for.

About this time I received urgent news from Middleton & Co. They demanded my return and conveyed the impression it was a matter of necessity, causing me to vaguely meditate upon the possibility if I had really reached the end of my powerful fortune. This was laughable, but Middleton & Co. had some strong reason—they always had strong reasons, and had entirely upset the rather flimsy plans I had formed for the future. I used some irritable language, though right down in my heart I had a hankering to see the old boys again.

Leisurely I journeyed homeward and tremendously enjoyed the trip across the ocean. The voyage was remarkably calm and I strode upon deck, inhaling great quantities of fresh, vigorous, salt air, and giving a passing glance at the class of people to whom I belonged, saw what is seen always among the rich and idle. Well-dressed self-satisfaction, without interest or idea beyond their own narrow little world; fashionable, complacent boredom, a certain well-bred discontent, idiotic, polite repartee, stifled yawns.... A kindly old gentleman interested me considerably. We were together constantly and I learned he had squandered three fortunes and enjoyed the superb satisfaction of regretting it. He had a wife and mature family somewhere and delighted in the thought that they had not the remotest idea of his whereabouts. I knew very well who he was, but did not allude to it as he traveled incognito and I feared to annoy him. He was an aristocrat—such men usually are. Our acquaintance ended with the voyage, but as we parted he gave me original, wholesome advice, which, like everything else, failed to impress me, though I stored it safely away in my memory.

“My young friend,” he said, “you have traveled over a great portion of the globe and encountered a vast assortment of people, and to your astonishment discovered that good predominated. Everybody is good according to their idea of goodness—ahem! Am I not right? You see, I’ve studied you as you studied me. Salucci, cease to embitter your life with false views of yourself and others, you’ve entered the wrong track altogether; it is the man all admire, not the wealth which you permit to kill ambition. Interest yourself in financial problems, the most wonderful of all sciences. You’re a born financier. God in heaven! what were the Fates up to that they bestowed upon you every faculty to amass riches, then supplied you with the fortune! What puppets we are! Last night you wished me luck, prosperity; and, Salucci, I wish you happiness. Good-bye.”

I watched him hurrying away and almost fall into the arms of two dapper young men who were waiting for him. They had recognized him as I did and their object and interview. The old gentleman smiled genially upon them, but his amazement was comical when they addressed him—he looked politely embarrassed as though regretting he was not the party they were looking for, then shrugged his graceful old shoulders and quietly departed; and the two young men stared at each other, astounded that it was possible they had been trapped into a case of mistaken identity. I was glad we met, however, for he made an otherwise dull voyage extremely interesting.

It was a cold, misty morning when the pompous custom-house officials boarded the steamer. The fussy health officers were working themselves into a fret because some one in the steerage had a cold, and the decks were crowded with passengers, eager, expectant, prepared for departure. Unconcernedly I scanned the dim outlines of the great city I called home, and experienced not the slightest tremolo of excitement, though I had been absent twelve years. What welcome had I to expect? Who cared when I came or went? Affection was not for me, and I grew heavy with longing, when, for the first time, I realized how much alone I was in this world. I would never be conscious of anything above the familiar, calculating coldness, sordid cordiality that was continually shown to me and, reflecting bitterly, I knew precisely what awaited me when the steamer docked. Albert would be there with the carriage and his perpetual grin. My wealth prevented me even enjoying the little annoyances fortunate others were subjected to. They could appreciate comfort. I was uncomfortable always. At my residence there would be no excitement, all in readiness as though I had never been absent. Later, if not fatigued I would saunter to the club, there to meet men who, like myself, had no place else to go. They would all hasten to reach my hand and give it the hearty shake men always give to each other whether they like you or not, and all would simultaneously exclaim: “Glad to see you back, old man! Remain long? What’ll you have?”

I almost yelled with repugnance. Though usually I permitted gloom to entirely envelop me, there was an undercurrent of consolation that few, very few experience—I was able to gratify all whims and execute all resolves, and generally when I reached this conclusion obnoxious meditations evaporated.

I strolled among the chattering, enthused passengers, trying to absorb some of their excitement; finding this difficult, I turned my full attention upon a small, black object in the waters that absentmindedly I had been watching some time. It was headed straight for the steamer and the pert, little craft, battling in the choppy sea, amused me. As it got nearer I discovered three men on the deck intently gazing at the steamer and then—yes—no—Middleton’s launch—and the three of them! Middleton, Burke, and Rollins! I yelled to them—by George! the firm had come to welcome me home! I was not forgotten. They spied me, then all yelled, wild with excitement. They extended their hands, so did I, as though it was possible to shake at that distance. The launch finally ran alongside the steamer, and three eager gentlemen boarded her. The bones in my hands were nearly crushed, yet hardly were the greetings over when my former gloomy thoughts rushed flood-like upon me. In vain I tried to drown the painful doubts—pon my soul! I swear these gentlemen had no motive but kindness in hurrying to greet me. Why couldn’t I be content with the action? What happiness is there in continually searching the motive? Middleton & Co. certainly had regard for me, else would have remained in their comfortable offices such a cold, raw morning. Away with this damned eternal probing, accept what is given, never expect more; yet judging from universal bitter comments of injury, humanity is firm in the belief, more is given than received. Smiling faces, flattering tongues, affectionate attitudes are at least genuine in exertion, why question further? It is enough to cement friendship.

If Middleton & Co. knew of my engaging thoughts while I was wringing their hands they would at once send in a bill for all the advice given gratis since my infancy. What a valuable nature is mine, and what disfigurement is humanity to this gloriously beautiful world.

I remained a month in town, following implicitly the orders of Middleton & Co. We’d had a thorough understanding plus details, and I learned my twelve years abroad had made vast inroads upon my fortune, still I was several centuries from starvation. I chided the old boys for their needless anxiety—Middleton & Co. hung on to every cent they could grasp, then felt injured. Dutifully I dined at each of their homes and gave a return banquet to the club; also, I attended a few extraordinary affairs—decorations, rows of debutantes—then suddenly discovered I didn’t owe anybody anything anyhow, and quietly slipped down to my country home that I had not visited in twelve years, and which made me realize for the first time the wonderful pleasure of return. I was born in this simple, rambling, old-fashioned house, surrounded with its acres and acres of boundless wealth. I gloried in the all-pervading peace, the enervating air vibrating with sounds, each a distinct note of music and all blending in superb harmony. I strolled in the orchards, plucking luscious fruit, I gathered my own salads and indulged in the juvenile delight of hunting eggs. I rode with the men upon lofty hay wagons, and lolled countless hours in the fields, dreamily viewing the far distant valleys sloping gently upward into deep purple mountains, and in all my travels of foreign antiquity flanked with oriental splendor I could remember no land to compare with the grand, vast freshness of this beautiful home scene, nor did I consider time wasted in this sublime appreciation. It seemed the joyous, lazy hours passed in the hot sunshine were simply the rest and peace needed to nerve me for coming events that the supreme inspiration enveloped. The rural quietness did not weary me. I indulged in day dreams and enthused in a thousand plans to be banished as soon as formed, then one morning, as suddenly as I came, I left all this sultry luxury and returned to the city.

With me in dreamland one entire night was Saxlehner, Professor Saxlehner, whom I had not seen or heard of in twelve years. He had appeared vivid, mirthful; we talked long, but with awakening I remembered nothing, simply he had thrust himself upon my memory and I returned to the city at once to search for him.

CHAPTER II.

Middleton & Co. were very hazy concerning Professor Saxlehner. Burke and Rollins knew nothing, but Middleton informed me the Professor had dropped all his old associates when he retired from the college and in return everybody had forgotten him. He (Middleton) understood Saxlehner was involved in some colossal scheme which he had “hung on to” all these years, and so far his only recompense was in testing the delights of a hermit. He lived way out somewhere in the suburbs in a little house of his own, did his own cooking, and was very crabbed to outsiders.

“And why are you hunting up the man?” Middleton asked.

“I intend to remain some time on this side of the ocean,” I told him. “I always liked Saxlehner, and simply wished to meet him again. He was the only man who seemed to understand me and naturally we’re congenial.”

“No harm in looking up the Professor,” he said. “I always thought Saxlehner a mighty shrewd fellow and his advice worth heeding. Hunt him up, by all means; splendid idea.”

Then Middleton scowled fiercely while I roared. A slip of the tongue and the word was sounded that he always avoided when I was within earshot. Idea, idea, idea. Ah, for a brilliant one!

Middleton’s chagrin was amusing.

Several days later early one morning I and a pair of thoroughbreds speeded toward the suburbs in search of my old friend Saxlehner. I reined up in front of a little old cottage of one floor, cellar and attic. The little front garden was overgrown with tall pink flowers and huge yellow ones with broad green leaves. The gate hung upon one hinge because it liked to, and had to be coaxed to open wide enough to admit one. There was a narrow, graveled path leading up to an olive green door, ornamented with a tarnished brass knocker in the form of a lion’s head with a ring through its nose. And here in these parts so peaceful and sunny, old Saxe. had buried himself with his colossal ideas.

I strode up to the olive door, and used the knocker several times with noisy effect. My summons were certainly heard throughout the house and several blocks beyond, but all remained calm, peaceful, no sign of a living creature anywhere. I stepped out to examine the premises and discovered smoke issuing from the chimney, so tried my luck again with a series of startling knocks. I heard footsteps, quick, jerky, irritated footsteps; bolts were snappishly drawn and the door opened violently; there stood Saxe., red and angry, enveloped from head to foot in a huge apron, sleeves rolled up, and armed with a fork.

“Well, young man,” he bawled, “might have known I didn’t want to be bothered; what d’ye want?”

Same old Saxe., cross and lovable as ever. I took off my hat and stood smiling at him. He scowled fiercely for a second, then gasped:

“Salucci! ’pon my soul! Why, it’s Salucci!”

He grabbed and drew me into the hall, gazing at me in astonishment, chuckling softly. In a second we were wringing each other’s hands as though for a wager.

“Never expected to see you again, my boy,” he told me; “thought you’d forgotten old Saxe. completely. Stay awhile?”

“Might as well,” I answered.

“Good boy!” he laughed. “But, say, send away that wagon out there, the whole neighborhood’ll think I’m sick and you the doctor.”

Saxe. really looked uneasy. I did as he wished, then he took me straight to his little kitchen.

“Getting up dinner,” he explained. “The reason I’m still a man is because I look after my digestion and live well.”

Upon a huge range were several small pots bubbling, and Saxe. went to work like a veteran.

I attempted to account for myself during the twelve years’ absence, but Saxe. cut me short.

“I know all about it,” he said, “kept track of you right along. Regretted very much your sporty life, but when you deserted Folly you cultivated Seriousness at the wrong end. You remained at nothing long enough to make a success; you surrendered to failure right off, and the sincere enthusiast never admits failure. You have wasted many valuable years, but we’ll talk later of that. What I have in these poems will improve with simmering. Come, I’ll show you about the place.”

He escorted me through the tiny hall to several rooms. There was a sitting room, a cozy smoking room, a library, and three bed rooms. The books in the library were piled high from floor to ceiling without shelves or covering, and tumbled in every direction.

“Best way to keep books,” he explained, “too open for moths, and mildew never attacks them. Then if you want a book you can lay hand on it at once. I’m here when I’m not in the attic.”

We visited the cellar. Saxe. with pride showed me several brands of fancy wine in casks and bottles, and there was a large variety of imported liquors. Two cobwebbed bottles he took from the shelves, remarking: “We’ll test them later,” and then he led the way to the attic, a most remarkable room, comprising the length and width of the house. It was packed with odd instruments, huge globes and vast maps of the world cut the corners and lined the walls; there were telescopes, and great charts of the heavens, and monstrous cylinders and electric batteries, and tall, crystal columns, filled with fiery hued liquid; and there was a queer steel contrivance resembling a table with the top cut out, and suspended in the center was a huge, crystal globe, pierced by a steel rod. The globe revolved upon this rod with wonderful rapidity. Saxlehner vouchsafed no explanations. Another thing which roused my curiosity was something of vast dimensions carefully covered with canvas. Saxe. jealously guarded this treasure, whatever it was, and skillfully turned my attention to other matters.

“And was it for this you resigned everything?” I blurted out.

“Exactly,” he replied.

“Where does it lead to?”

“North Pole.”

I turned to him in astonishment, he stared back defiantly.

I refrained from remark, but—a sensible man like Saxe. should have such a fool desire!

“And the end?” I asked stupidly.

“North Pole!” he cried out impatiently.

“Well! well! well!”

He took my arm and led me down stairs, remarking: “I was about to eat the finest dinner I ever tasted in my life.”

I certainly enjoyed the meal. As a cook, Saxe. was an expert. His superb Sauterne and Chianti loosened our tongues, and Saxe. speedily learned I was wide and adrift as to my future intentions. This was during the pessimistic Sauterne stage, when the preparatory gloom of expected hilarity causes one to view life sadly, and I ended up a long-winded refrain with: “Honestly, Saxe., I believe the end of it all will be a woman!”

Saxe. was horrified.

“A woman!” he yelled, “A woman! good heavens, Salucci, you must be mad!”

“It’s an ordinary madness,” I snapped, “and I see no occasion for excitement if eventually the main idea should develop into a woman. What’s so terrible about it? All our brilliant men and heroes end their careers with a woman.”

“Stuff!” cried Saxe. “Stuff and nonsense! you’re not in earnest, you’d cease to interest me if you were. Yet there’s a lot in your statement. Many great men have ended with a woman—that was their death; but all accomplished their ambition before seeking diversion.”

I laughed, and told him he had just quoted me—women were the most delightful diversion the world contained. He flushed and tried to appear angry. I laughed louder and asked him how old he was. He seemed younger than when I left college. He shook his head impatiently, and cried, “Fudge! got over all that twenty years ago. I’m near fifty,” he told me, “but a man can remain the same age fifteen years. How old do I look?”

“Thirty-five,” I answered promptly.

“I thought so,” he replied slyly, “a man always remains that at least fifteen years, and it is generally understood we do not reach prime till sixty—ahem!”

We’d reached the Chianti, and also the conclusion that we were both rather fortunate than otherwise in being alive. This is a cheering, vigorous thought, and the Chianti inspired lengthy discussions upon all manner of scientific subjects; and as my interests were centered in the attic Saxe. finally took me up there again.

I made straight for the great canvas covering, and Saxe., who had thrown reserve to the winds, assisted me to remove the covering, and to my astonished eyes was revealed the monstrous machinery of—what? It was a massive structure composed entirely of steel, and looked like a locomotive resting upon sleds. The snoot had a projectile three feet in circumference and nine feet long, terminating at the base to the size of a three karat diamond, and the diamond was there, sparkling and blazing away in serene splendor. A ridiculously small button was pressed and the sleds slowly ascended, exposing the base of the machine, which was shaped like a canoe. Another button pressed and the projectile shot into a socket.

“It’s magnificent! a marvelous invention, Saxe. What’s it intended for?” But Saxe. ignored my question.

“It certainly is a beautiful thing to look at, but useless,” he told me; “a failure which some day I shall master. I am in a fair way to succeed, as I have discovered the faults and now only have to discover the remedy.”

An odd look of hopelessness and defiance shaded his face, he turned as though to hide the expression.

“I haven’t been near it for months,” he continued, “everything is in readiness, though. I keep it that way in case I take the notion and won’t have to waste time in preparations; but to look at it sometimes sickens me.”

“Courage,” I told him, “you cannot fail. You are master of the instrument because aware of its imperfections.”

He sighed heavily, then explained the faults of his machine, which I examined with enthusiasm. I became inspired and declared positively I could perfect it. Saxe. smiled and replaced the covering, then trotted me from his treasure room.

“You are a one-idea-at-a-time man; you have said it is the secret of the prolongation of youth. At present your splendid intellect is a blank and I will not take advantage of it. Go, remain away a week, think well of your future, mature what indefinite plans you may have formed. Should you return within the week I know you are free, untrammeled, open to suggestion and the supreme idea. Whichever way you decide, Salucci, I wish you prosperity and success.”

I grasped his hand as he escorted me to the door. I had spent the entire day with him and it was evening now, beautiful with the white light of the moon. Saxe. stepped out to inhale the fresh, balmy air, and greeted a man who was coming up the little gravel path, who informed him it was an indifferent night for observations.

The light from the door fell upon his features and I recognized Professor Saunders, the astronomer, whose lectures I had often listened to with the keenest interest. He greeted me, then murmured something, entered the house and rapidly vanished in the region of the attic. Saxe., anxious to join his friend, rather abruptly bade me good-night, however, reminding me I had been haphazard long enough. “Be decisive,” he murmured.

CHAPTER III.

I thought of Saxe. and his strange instrument, continually wondering what it was intended for, while my fingers twitched to handle it. The old glamour of Saxe.’s companionship was upon me, again was I ambitious, dauntless, scorning difficulties, confident I could accomplish what he, with all his superior knowledge, had failed to do—perfect and set in motion the machinery that he had nearly wasted his entire life upon.

Anxious to test my ability, positive of success, I lost no time in presenting myself to Saxe. early the next day.

He was hurried when admitting me and speeded down the hall, bidding me to follow.

“Frogs saute,” he explained, “and Saunders and Sheldon are here—know ’em?”

“Met Sheldon some time ago and Saunders last night,” I reminded him.

“So you did, so you did!” he agreed. “Well, you won’t disturb them; they’re at it, as usual.”

The two gentlemen were seated at a table engrossed with a chart between them and deep in discussion or, more correctly speaking, quarreling. They nodded impatiently as I entered and paid no attention whatever as I seated myself and tried to take a hand in the argument. I moved the chart to suit my convenience and then the gentlemen quit quarreling with each other to take sides against me, and I was soon bawling louder than either, my indignation roused to boiling point because they repeatedly yelled: “Hush up, boy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Saxe. howled for peace, and passed around something, the flavor of which inspired deep friendship and good fellowship, and amid the jollity he declared I complimented him, always turning up at meal time. I honestly enjoyed dining with the old boys. We sat in our shirt sleeves and conversed in comfort, time no object, and the jokes numerous, whose piquancy only a wit could appreciate.

“And for twelve years,” I said, finally, to no one in particular, “you people have been going on like this, easy, careless, comrades always, with the expectation of some day attaining your ambitions.”

“Yes,” answered Saunders, “comrades always, but not idlers. The twelve years have been mightily employed, we have made much progress toward the great end. My star, ‘the star,’ scintillates in the same position, been there trillions of years, but invisible because blazing away just above the colossal pivot of Earth. Astronomers have calculated pretty closely the exact position it should occupy on the astral map, but most have calculated wrong. The subject is always an incentive for much controversy, but one and all agree to the certainty of the phenomenon, and if the world revolved according to antiquated supposition—like a ball—we would be permitted to gaze upon the egg-shaped, pinkish-hued marvel. It is the twin planet. My assertions are based upon deep calculations.”

He was daring and—like most daring people—queer. He had joined many expeditions to the north to perfect observations of the polar sphere, but before penetrating very far into the ice regions something or other had always frightened the life most out of him and he returned home with the liveliest speed.

Saxe.’s other crony was Sheldon, a genial, patient, cool old party, who became excited only when arguing with Saunders. He had a mania for rivers, declaring all bodies of fresh water were fed from an undercurrent which flowed through great arteries, connected with an ocean of fresh water, supposedly located somewhere in the region of the Pole. He had completed arrangements to join the next expedition to the north, his intention to explore around for this great fresh water ocean. His arguments were very convincing and his cool, calm, positive assertions made you almost believe his statements. The man was odd, undoubtedly very odd. And Saxe., dear old Saxe., the hard-headed Professor, whom the boys at college dared not play pranks upon, Saxe., with his wonderful inventive genius and vast researches in scientific regions, this man with the brilliant brain, was living in seclusion with a set of cranks and wasting his life upon the North Pole. He formed no wild theories based upon wilder calculations, it was to discover the unknown summit, and he vowed he would do it before he died. The determination of all three men was inspiring. They had their clientele, of course, and their writings were widely read. Sheldon was famous as a lecturer and ranked high in various Geographical-Geological societies, who, however, considered his views concerning the vast ocean of fresh water rather as a joke, a side issue, a hobby; he was not taken seriously. Saunders was a scientific writer of renown and referred to as an authority upon the stellar science, but astronomers while listening gravely, sympathetically, to his learned discourse upon the known but invisible planet, were frankly skeptical and a daring few challenged him. It was then, Sheldon informed me, that Saunders spunkily made his rushing trips to the north and back again, then stoically issued a new thesis upon the invisible twin world which usually silenced, for a time, his derogators. But Saxe., no one dared exchange witticisms with him, his natural secretiveness and air of mystery he affected made all regard him with awe and boosted him to the celebrity class. His studied aloofness forced continual respect, something few brilliant men have been able to retain.

“Spread, air your plans,” he said, “and at once you lose interest in them; they never again belong entirely to you; besides, people shy at you. Hopes keep as invisible as your heart.”

He was wonderful in his firm belief that he of all men was destined to discover the North Pole.

And here after all my wanderings and bizarre experiences, my strong ambitions and brilliant ideas, I, with my vast wealth and equally vast longings, winded up with this strange trio. But their buoyant confidence attracted me, it was an entirely new atmosphere, permeated with a wild, mystic charm. Saunders’ beautiful, invisible star, Sheldon’s vast body of limpid, fresh water, and the Pole, with all the mysteries of the dead portion of the earth surrounding it; here was a new experience, a grand, new experience, unique; enough to satisfy the most blasé.

Sheldon and Saunders remained till late, but when Saxe. and I were alone he regarded me keenly, gravely.

“As usual,” he said, “you have disregarded all advice, flung aside all plans definite or otherwise, to plunge headlong into—have you any idea what it is you are about to take up?”

“Most congenial company I’ve encountered for years,” I replied. “Saxe., I’m as much alone upon this earth as though the only mortal treading it; don’t deny me the pleasure of your company, surely we’ve all passed a very jolly afternoon together.”

“You didn’t return for that,” he said sharply; “as for the two who have just left, they can be joyful, they live in their imaginations, I upon facts. They need encouragement, they’re doomed to disappointment, while I, Salucci, God! millions and millions of leagues away, hardly discernible, yet I can see—Triumph gleams and sparkles, and beckons. I shall accomplish all I’ve undertaken; success is for me. I’ve spent my whole life upon one grand scheme, while you have wasted yours upon a dozen. You misdirect, waste your vitality, your energy evaporates, you accomplished nothing; not one of your brilliant ideas absorbed you; insincere always, simply a pastime. Success naturally frowned, and all these years you might have been comfortably asleep.”

His object in taking this tone I didn’t question, but his talking did me a world of good; ambition fired me, I was positive that at last I had discovered the supreme idea.

“I’ve formed no plans for the future,” I told him, “and returned to you because I wish to put my new idea in action at once. I’ve decided to join you; there’ll be four instead of three—a gold backing, and there’s no such thing as failure. Inform me of every detail of your great scheme, initiate me into the mysteries of your attic. Saxe., I swear I can perfect your machinery.”

He stared, his face quite white; this time he did not smile at my boast. We rose together and clasped hands across the table, and he, his voice husky with emotion, murmured: “It is the noblest, grandest scheme ever created, but the end may feaze you; still, I believe you to be sincere this time, may your genius aid you to perfect what I have slaved a lifetime over. Come!”

Up the narrow, creaking stairs we went. Saxe. flooded the place with light and there was the monstrous machinery with unsightly covering, which he reverently removed, and the masterpiece of steel was revealed in all its glory. The polish of the cylinder, and great propeller which failed to work, was dazzling; the delicate lace tracery wrought in the steel wrung from me a cry of admiration.

“Shame, shame, Saxe., what a shame it is imperfect!”

He shook his head. “It enrages me,” he cried vehemently, “to be able to plan a thing like that, then to be devoid of the trick to perfect it, for it will be by chance, a trick I have so far been unable to hit.”

With delight I placed my hands upon the shining metal, then slowly, deliberately began taking the huge instrument apart.

Saxe. remonstrated wildly and wished to explain, but I knew his explanations would take hours and his persistence finally so annoyed me I caught him by the shoulders and rushed him from the room quickly, closing and locking the door. He clamored for admittance and bawled instructions.

“I am responsible for all damage,” I called through the keyhole. I heard him sigh heavily as I turned away, but became so absorbed with my task that I forgot him, everybody. I took that machine apart and placed it together again, I don’t know how many times. I was unconscious of fatigue, heedless of time, and after hours of tedious work was courageous and alive with energy. But the strain at last must have dazed me, I was confused when putting the infernal instrument together for the final time and made the blunder that ended the difficulty. Wheels, shafts, slides seemed to fit easier into sockets; screws, pins shot into cavities without a rasp. I noticed this, but supposed I was becoming expert, having taken the thing apart so many times, but when the steel monster again towered before me complete I cussed softly, and for the first time doubted my skill. The beauty, contour of the machine was ruined. I would try it again of course, but I was a fool to attempt where Saxe. had failed. Cautiously I set to work to discover the blunder and accidentally touched the propeller, which suddenly rose and shot into its socket and started all portions of the machine into action. I caught my breath, not daring to believe, then commenced experimenting by uncoupling the brakes. The instrument darted forward several yards without the customary whirring noise which warned the operator of a smash-up. I could have shouted for joy—Saxe.’s machine was perfected—I had succeeded.

I discovered the cylinders were partially filled with a peculiar, odorless liquid, and recklessly entered the car and adjusted the lever. The locomotive jerkily responded and slowly we rolled around the room. I had much difficulty steering clear of the walls and various articles in the way and became interested and perplexed in the regular action of the propeller, which shot in and out as though seeking something to demolish, and at last, for all my care, the diamond prod crashed into a huge square of glass and crushed it to atoms. Then it flashed upon me what Saxe.’s invention was intended for and in spite of myself I shouted. An answering shout reached me from the landing outside. I sprang from the car and flung open the door. Three men, wild with excitement, rushed in upon me. Saxe. grabbed and embraced me, yelling all sorts of foolish things. Sheldon and Saunders caught my hands and bawled their congratulations. My head throbbed and I grew dizzy with joy. The reaction set in, my stamina deserted me, the wild entrance of the enthusiastic trio roused me as from a dream. As though an eternity away, like a zephyr, Saxe.’s voice reached me.

“Two days and a half, Virgillius, my boy; it was an awful strain. I hammered repeatedly upon the door, but I don’t believe you even heard.”

“Two days and a half,” I muttered drowsily, then drank the liquor some one handed to me and without further ceremony dropped off to sleep.

CHAPTER IV.

Saxe. christened his machine Propellier, an aptly chosen name, then rushed into print. He was mobbed by scientific societies, and lectured widely about everything except what his “marvelous invention” was intended for; and it became public wonder to what use this machine was to be put that would butt, crush, and pass over all obstacles.

As he mentioned me continually in connection with the Propellier, we were both much interviewed and written up lengthily.

Cranks clustered around the little house in the suburbs, and almost annoyed the life out of Saxe. with their arrogant demands, and police protection became necessary.

Saxe. was famous and sailed the wave of popularity for about three weeks, and then—well, all waves recede, but this one simply calmed. Saxe. and his invention were not forgotten, because he was wise enough to keep the public guessing. Later, when preparations were progressing rapidly for the one great aim of his life, he in his thankfulness became more communicative, satisfying curiosity, ending all doubts. He lectured before a vast throng of scientists, educators, and students, who wildly applauded him as he divulged the secret of his ambition and the usefulness of his invention. He declared the Pole would never be discovered without the aid of science, and his invention would greatly lessen the many hardships previous explorers suffered (applause). All the tremendous difficulties of Arctic travel would vanish before the terrible force of the Propellier; and he verged nicely into details with deep explanations, and ended he would reach the Pole, then explore the surrounding territory.

Seated upon the stage were several famous lecturers, all had a few remarks to make, chiefly in discouragement of Saxe.’s grand project, placing great stress upon real and imaginary obstacles, and aggravating the listeners enthused with Saxe.’s scheme; but he was too far gone to heed advice, happy that his years of labor were over, he sat there smiling and chuckling.

Saunders had his little say also, spoke glowingly of the expedition, and became eloquent over his wondrous northern star of the brilliant pinkish hue. His statements were positive, and many in the audience nodded approval, and he was enthusiastically applauded when he finally ended his remarks.

Then Sheldon, encouraged by his colleagues and not to be outdone by Saunders in one little instance, rose and exploded his theory concerning the rivers, lakes and vast body of fresh water supposedly located in the vicinity of the Pole. He created a sensation and in his enthusiasm stated as facts the most preposterous hallucinations, and smiles were broad while college veal showed its appreciation in squeaks and irrepressible guffaws, to be frowned upon by their superiors, who were making the most outrageous grimaces themselves. But Sheldon was blind, as were also the large number of sympathizers present, who listened eagerly and believed every word he uttered and cheered him loudly when he resumed his seat. Sheldon proved the star attraction among the large assemblage of wise men.

My three friends became known throughout the press as “the three renowned,” and the expedition to the North Pole was written up learnedly, ending with the statement, the start would be made early in the spring; whereupon a wag, itching for a thrashing, suggested we take the Relief Party along, as there was nothing like having things convenient. My own name invariably ended all articles where apparently it had been roped in as an afterthought, and I discovered I belonged to the expedition. Here indeed was an idea, but I refused to entertain it. I was open for much enterprise, but the North Pole was beyond my latitude.

Then Middleton, Burke and Rollins swooped down upon me, each armed with a paper and anxiety upon their faces, and gravely I told them the Pole was Saxlehner’s property, and I had no desire to buy it from him. I confided to them my doubts of the whole undertaking and that positively I wanted none of it. My assurance greatly calmed the old boys. To deceive them was my last thought, for I had not the remotest idea of joining the expedition. My slim genius refused to risk life for science. I had a mighty discussion and determined settlement with the “renowned ones” concerning the financial problem. I knew the three cronies could not rake up a thousand between them, but the amazing fact was forced upon me that they seriously objected to accepting funds from me. Sheldon was balky, Saunders grimly uncompromising, and Saxe. declared he would not have those three “sharks” claiming he had bunkoed me into the scheme. It was Saxe.’s positive belief that the firm of Middleton & Co. were the greatest sharks out of water.

But I argued with the stubborn trio, and pressed the issue determinedly when I saw them weakening. I laughed heartily at Saunders’s hesitating suggestion that the government would contribute largely toward the expense of the expedition, also, that many scientific societies all over the world would render valuable assistance. I did not doubt his assertion, for it would have created the widest of gulfs, but I reminded him that in about ten years the expedition would be ready to start. This ended the controversy. The very idea of delay threw the old boys into despair, and for twelve years they had been waiting for just such an opportunity as I offered them.

With plans that had been formed for years and unlimited capital at their disposal, arrangements were rushed to completion.

For weeks Saxe., Sheldon, and Saunders worked like beavers. Saxe. was as jealous of his invention as a lover of his mistress; no one was permitted to inspect his work and the Propellier and three steel cars were cast and completed by himself. I assisted him in taking apart and packing the machinery in crates. Saxe. was a wonderful manager, the whole of the extensive preparations were left entirely to him per arrangement. He gave the closest attention to the most insignificant item, perfecting each little detail. He chartered a vessel and made a cast-iron agreement with the shipping company that vessels were to cruise around in Arctic waters at certain dates and locations every year for seven years; if we failed to turn up at the end of that period the agreement was called off. He stored in provisions for a seven year cruise but privately told me they would discover the Pole, and return in less than three years. In my heart I believed they would never return. The idea was to sail as far north as possible. Saxe. calculated on reaching the Pole six or eight weeks after starting with the Propellier. The three were thoroughly familiar with the ice country and had their route mapped out first rate, but I was dubious; it seemed to me nothing less than suicide, yet Saxe. was thoroughbred in his work and his confidence exhilarating. From the start I had been closely associated with the three famous scientists, and eventually it became noised about that Salucci, the millionaire, was to head the expedition. As I neither affirmed nor denied the report my indecision caused the three “sharks” to storm the citadel in the suburbs.

Saxe. had a wordy war with Middleton & Co., but they capitulated before his lengthy explanations and departed satisfied, enthusiastic, privately informing me the Professor was a wonderful man and that it was preposterous that he could fail; and for the first time in my life I was flinging my money away sensibly. I notified them of my intention to escort the expedition north to a certain point, then return with the ship. My unusual lack of enthusiasm allayed their suspicions and convinced them I was meditating some new enterprise. Unknowingly I deceived the old gentlemen, my sudden reticence was to avoid making positive promises. I wished to be untrammeled in case enthusiasm forced me at the last moment to cast my luck with Saxe., but I doubted if any sensation could inveigle me into such a rash proposition as that Saxe., Sheldon, and Saunders were contemplating, but I remained silent.

About two weeks before the date of departure Saxe., satisfied with the outlook, and but a few minor details to attend to, ordered an easing up of labor and we made the astonishing discovery we were notorious. It seemed the interest of the entire world was centered upon us, and it made Saxe. crabbed. He had lived so long in seclusion and the one idea, had figured and planned and became so thoroughly familiar with the northern zone—on the map—that he could see nothing unusual in his stupendous undertaking and thought no more of it than I would of a trip to Europe.

“It’s a private expedition taken solely to test the theories of a few scientists. The public didn’t pungle up with any funds, so whose concern is it, anyhow?” he wanted to know, and blamed Middleton & Co., because he was misquoted in fake interviews, though what they had to do with it was a mystery. He took it upon himself to answer all adverse criticisms, and was eminently successful in routing a few daring doubters. In the scientific world the “renowned illustrious” were considered heroes. They lectured before colleges and vast scientific bodies, and their writings in scientific publications were widely read. They indulged in numerous unaccustomed diversions and were banqueted almost nightly. I thought it a poor way to prepare the constitution for polar hardships, but Saxe. said once out of civilization we would become normal again. However, I decided to call a halt and rescued my three brave comrades from the courtesies they could not resist, by giving a return banquet to those who had honored us. It was our farewell, a sumptuous farewell, which remained long in the memory of those who attended, but ended tragically for me—the experience was destiny. Wine flowed freely, gayety ran high, toasts, speech-making the order; some one started a noisy song and all, even Saxe., joined in shouting the chorus. I shouted as loud as any, not prompted by wine, but intent all should enjoy themselves. I had drunk sparingly, though well seasoned and able to stand more than most. They called upon me for a speech and the wits jocularly twitted me about the ladies. So I toasted a dainty, little creature, who, like all celebrities, was commonplace upon acquaintance. The boys yelled at my choice. I twirled my glass recklessly, eager to spout some of my own verses, but suddenly an odd change came upon me, I felt ill and chilled, then apathetic, numbed; the glass fell with a smash. I could utter no sound, but saw all watching me curiously. Middleton rose in alarm, but Saxe. reached me first and caught me as I fell forward inert, helpless, but painfully conscious. I deeply regretted my sudden indisposition, my collapse created a panic and ended the evening’s festivities.

An intensely cold air suddenly rushed upon me, chilling my blood. I was being conveyed to some place, but could distinguish nothing in the vague, dreamy vapor gradually enveloping me, which became heavier and heavier, forming a dark wall surrounding me in a silence deep, oppressive; then like a flash I saw clear again, and to my amazement was in my rooms alone seated at the table, book in hand, comfortable, peaceful, while a tornado scourged the city. It was a night of inky blackness, freezingly cold, and vaguely I felt sympathy for the homeless, and those obliged to be out in such a storm; then there was the sound of crashing timber and frightful shrieks roused me from my lethargy and I realized I would not be spared for all my riches. Violent gusts of wind shook the building. I feared the roof would cave in and crush me, yet calculated nicely just how long it would take for the expected to happen. I felt no alarm or discomfort at the destruction going on, but when too late realized peril in the awful roaring, fateful crash in my vicinity. The walls of my rooms fell apart, the ceiling rose and was carried away and I borne with frightful velocity upon the wind, tossed hither and thither; and this tornado with the strength of a hundred thousand giants had the gentleness of a lover. Upon a bed of soft, flaky clouds I finally floated in delicious tranquillity and gradually with exquisite tenderness I was lowered to a wonderful world of down. As far as the eye reached was a vast plain of fairy-land, dazzling in whiteness, maddening in silence, with a ridge of pale mountains gleaming blue, phantom-like. My flesh quivered with the cold, but I was powerless to move or cry out; and here in this great, icy throne, was I forced to sit and gaze at the desolate wilderness of snow, snow, snow; a vast, strange region, with dead, suffocating vapor clinging to my nostrils; dumb, a prey to fear and wonder. The roar and crash of the tornado; anything but this horrible stillness with the heavy dread enveloping me. I remained there forever, it seemed, but gradually my eyes became accustomed to the dull, leaden atmosphere, and I perceived far, far in the distance, a small point of color advancing. Over the ridge of myth mountains it bounded with wonderful velocity, this rolling circle of light, the nearer it approached swelled to enormous dimensions, a huge globe of dull, ominous red, betraying the force, the foundation of destruction. This gigantic world of fire with marvelous bounds sped straight toward me, I seemingly the magnet. I tried to move; could not. On it came with increasing rapidity, I directly in its path. It would come—it would pass over me—God! The horror of the position broke my dumbness, I shrieked and shrieked and lived through the tortures of the damned. The hell globe was most upon me, then as though with fiendish mockery it retreated, then advanced, then retreated again, it swayed back and forth as though attached to a mighty pendulum swung in the grasp of some sinister monster. I shut my eyes—I had committed no crime except in being rich—and waited ages, ages it seemed for oblivion. But nothing happened, no great weight of intense heat crushed me, all was as before, icy, still. I ventured to glance around, the great, fiery globe was there, but farther away burning less vividly, it became dull, duller, and finally with a loud explosion burst apart, forming into a fiery stage for a wondrous scene. In amazement I gazed upon the blackish-red clouds, curling thickly upward. In the smoking midst a reclining form floated and undulated, gathering and manipulating the density till all was consumed and in the vivid clearness a gorgeous scene was revealed. In wonder and delight I gazed into the burning splendor at a myth, houri, such ravishing beauty could not be mortal. Thick masses of jetty hair mingled with the heavy, dusky clouds; starry, flashing eyes burned into mine and scorched me; tall, majestic, scintillating with jewels, red lips parted in an alluring smile, she beckoned to me. I stared, fascinated. She drew to her side an odd instrument and her white fingers caressed the wires, music there must have been, but I could not hear. As I watched a shadow appeared which gradually grew firmer, taking form and finally the dim outlines of a man were revealed bending eagerly toward the luxurious creature. He was pleading, passionate admiration betrayed in his whole attitude. And this man, this man with his slavish devotion was—myself. I, the man of the world, the cynic with a well-known temperament of an icicle. I gazed astounded at this shadow of myself and my heart warmed and beat violently as I watched the strangely beautiful vision; in that moment I loved, loved almost as madly as the shadow. She turned as though in welcome to another, then suddenly a brilliant, golden light shrouded the whole, the globe of fire crashed together and bounded away in space, tinging the universe with a glorious roseate hue. With the last vanishing streak of pink came desolation; in the midst of this gloom a man approached walking rapidly, determinedly. He reached me and passed without heeding my call. I yelled after him, he turned—the man’s face was my own. On he went with great strides, obstacles faded beneath the power of his will. I followed, though not conscious of moving, and at last with a shout of triumph, he halted upon the highest peak of the phantom mountains, one foot sunk to the knee in snow, the other ankle deep in rich, rank grass.

“Saxe.!” he shouted, “Saxlehner!”

His voice rang clarion-like over the vast prairies of ice and snow, the piercing sound echoed in my ears and startled me out of my trance; my eyes opened wide in reason. I was lying upon a couch in my own room, the sun streamed broadly through the open window, and Saxe. sat at the table drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. My head was swathed in ice-cold bandages, but the slightest movement gave me excruciating pain.

“Saxe.!” I called.

“All right, my boy,” he answered; “feel better?”

“What’s the row?”

“Oh, nothing serious, just the usual thing,” he replied. “If it hadn’t been for me you would have gone to sleep under the table, where most of them passed the night, I imagine.”

“Was that really what ailed me? I thought it was a trance.”

“Fact!” chuckled Saxe. “Trance, eh? well, well, well—trance! But it’s usually mentioned that way, I believe. There are others this morning whose sick heads makes them positive about it. Trance!”

“Did I break up the fun?”

“You were merely an incident; after your removal the fun grew wilder, I understand. But honestly, Salucci, I didn’t think it of you, I didn’t.” And Saxe. gazed sternly at my pallid countenance, then pulling down the shades he advised me to rest.

I lay there with my aching head and thought of my wondrous vision. The marvelous beauty of it all so distinctly impressed me that I could gloat over the slightest detail. I reveled in reverie and saw again the sweet, alluring smile, deep, burning eyes, and royal magnificence of raiment. My desires ruled me as with a great heart throb I realized I loved; I the last of a long line of scorning people who could not realize the sweet passion. And such love! such adoration! It steeped my whole being in delight. I was reckless, folly full, madly enamoured with a phantom—an ideal. The dull-red globe with its reflecting golden mist enshrouding the brilliant, gorgeous creature, haunted me, and again and again the shadow of myself treaded the wide snow plains and lofty ice mountains, the whole enveloped in the mystery of the Unknown, convincing me of the truth of the inspired idea treasured in the fabulous cell of Thought, the extravagance of which I dared not utter. The vision of midnight tresses would become a reality. I would search the earth and seek this woman in her own world. I would be successful. It was fate. My adoration would kindle desire as the beauty had fired me; and then....

CHAPTER V.

I had a long consultation with Saxe., then joined the expedition. I expected he would try to dissuade me from my intention, but on the contrary, he seemed singularly happy at my decision and confided to me his strange, strange theory.

“I do not search for the Pole,” he told me, “but for the great countries I know exist beyond. The world has never been fully explored, and, Virgillius, it never will be. Once, long ago, ships never sailed beyond the Strait of Gibraltar, the great waste of water meeting the horizon line was simply the ‘jumping-off place.’ Later, according to civilization, Europe, Asia, and Africa comprised the world, and history relates the jeers Columbus’s contrary but positive assertions received. We’ve made rapid progress since those primitive times.

“Explorers usually are blessed with vivid imaginations—those who seek the Pole, expect to discover a vast continent on the other side; all have the same positive idea concerning the unknown regions, but dare not express them. Now take Sheldon,” he continued, “do you suppose a man of his learning expects to discover a great body of fresh water in the Arctic zone? Not much! And Saunders, and his wonderful star, whose existence has never been disputed by scientific readers of the heavens. He declares the earth egg-shaped, not round, as many commonly believe has been proven—nothing has been proven. The great twin planet is visible upon the other side of this globe similar to the Moon, which exposes but one side of her disc to us—the uninhabited sphere.”

I gasped. Saxe. chuckled at my astonishment and grasped my hand.

“Glad you’ve joined us, my boy,” he said. “It’s a good move. You’ll find more confined within the boundary of Earth than in your wildest dreams of paradise. Now, tell me—why have you so suddenly decided to join the expedition?”

He looked at me keenly and I felt my face burning hot but remained mute. Saxe. dropped my hand. “Keep it to yourself,” he said. “I dare say it’s a very good reason; it ought to be, you’re so jealous of it, and I’ll learn all about it in good time. Don’t mention our conversation to Saunders, or Sheldon; as intimate as we are the subject has never gone beyond the Pole. We all actually believe we’re greatly fooling the other, but Saunders will travel till he beholds his star; Sheldon will never halt till he discovers his phenomenal body of water; and I, I have worked for years and spent my last cent that ultimately I can be the discoverer of the other side of the globe. And you, Virgillius, you are going because you—er—have nothing else to do?”

I laughed and took up my hat to depart. How the devil could I tell the old sport I was going to the North Pole, in search of—er—a woman. I, who fancied myself above the ordinary, a side light to gleam and flash fitfully, never with the steady glow of genius, found myself in the category of every-day, commonplace men, whose careers always end with a woman, as I now dared hope mine would.

The day finally arrived when we were to steam away upon our long, venturesome voyage. I was the last to board the little whaling vessel. Saxe., Sheldon, and Saunders were on deck busily occupied. Saxe. had an elderly female clinging and sobbing upon his shoulder, accompanied by two pretty girls with red eyes and sniffles. Saunders was standing apart, holding tightly the hand of a young man who appeared very serious, and talked very rapidly, while Saunders listened with that aggravating air—talk-away-young-man-if-it-makes-you-feel-better-but-it’s-useless. The young man was Saunders, Jr. Sheldon, obvious to everything, was up in a corner embracing a portly dame, who wept copiously. Portly dame unknown and nobody’s business. I became as blind as a bat, and was hailed by Middleton & Co., who nabbed me after a red-hot chase and started to argue. Never was such eloquence heard outside the bar. The gentlemen had suddenly become convinced I was deceiving them, and their suspicions and fears had to be quieted. I felt ashamed of myself, but could not give up the expedition. My brain throbbed with the memory of the blazing vision, and my three lawyers put aside their dignity and trotted to keep up with me as I paced the deck with amorous strides. I hurried the trio to my cabin, opened several bottles, and out-argued them, till finally, Middleton, sighing heavily, wrung my hand in parting.

“Keep your word, my boy,” he warned.

“And what do you expect me to do?” I asked.

“Oh, never mind,” he replied, “only see that you return.”

“That I certainly will,” I told him, and I kept my word.

I felt sorry to part with the old boys, but honestly it was a relief to see them trooping from the ship with other visitors. I did not feel safe from them till I saw them on the wharf waving their kerchiefs as we pulled out. Saxe. walked up and down smoking vigorously, answering very testily if any one dared address him. Saunders was leaning dangerously forward over the railing, bawling to the young man on the pier, who was bawling back at him, neither understanding what the other was bawling. Sheldon, with a red nose, was seated upon a barrel sentimentally studying a photo, presumably of the portly one; and all three, I firmly believe, were willing to back out of the expedition if they dared. We were forced to drop all sentimental nonsense and acknowledge the magnificent send-off tendered us, though every last blessed mortal who wished us luck were positive we would never return. Bare-headed the four of us shouted and gesticulated like mad in response to the hubbub; bedlam reigned; our ship was surrounded by every conceivable craft in existence. The ear-splitting shriek of infernal tugs, and launches, nearly drove us demented, making us deaf to the salutes of little white-halls, and yachts, crowded with wealthy, idle men in flannels, who whooped as we steamed past, roused to momentary enthusiasm because they had nothing else to do. The pleasure-seekers accompanied us till the swell of heavy seas drove them back one by one, and at last, thank Heaven! the awful din was quieted and we, speeding swiftly, alone, between water and sky toward the goal Saxe. had worked a lifetime for. He became very chummy with the captain, who was the most profane man I ever ran across.

Sheldon and Saunders found their charts and quarrels so interesting, I was left entirely to myself, though ennui was killed in vain dreams of an image, an impossibility, thrilling and rousing dormant sensibilities I did not believe myself possessed of. I idled away hours, becoming absolutely useless, and Saxe. dispensing with my services, ordered me from the box he had converted into a laboratory.

At his expressed wish we anchored at several northern ports, and were usually received by a committee of speech-making asses, who forced banquets, balls and receptions upon us. At one port two of the crew deserted and delayed us four days; then when all was in readiness for departure, Saxe., to our astonishment, was missing. We appealed to the captain, who declared, if necessary, he would wait six months for Saxlehner, who he was confident, however, would be along soon. Sheldon confidentially told me he believed Saxe. had deserted, while Saunders fretfully hoped the expedition wasn’t going to end here. Saxe.’s absence was beginning to worry us, when towards the close of the following day he put in an appearance, very tired but exultant, and that night several hundred cans of two gallons each containing some mysterious fluid was shipped aboard. This explained Saxe.’s absence, and he explained the mysterious chemical was used in his secret solution which supplied the motor power to the Propellier, and was absolutely proof against what he termed “atmospheric influence,” and could be procured in large quantities only in this vicinity. At this stage of the explanation I departed. I knew Saxe. would divulge nothing, his secretive method in securing the chemical was sufficient for me. Not to a living soul would Saxe. ever impart the knowledge of how he manufactured his marvelous electric fluid, but Saunders and Sheldon hung on in the vain hope that Saxe. in his enthusiasm might forget himself; and this after all their years of association with him. They had failed to discover that he was the worst old fox in creation. As there was no further cause for dallying we decided to slight those ports where we were expected to anchor and steamed straight for the north. Four days out we encountered a heavy storm, high seas washed the decks clean of everything. Affairs looked serious at one time, but Captain Norris buoyed us up with the information this was merely a trifle to what we were fated to encounter before we reached the Pole. Saunders said he predicted the storm from the position of wind clouds and atmospheric, etc., etc., etc. Sheldon declared it was brought on by Saxe.’s meddling with combustibles, and aggravated by Sally’s volcanic thoughts (a dig at my idleness).

The storm lasted three days, then one morning the sun rose in all serenity and we were nearing the coast of Greenland.

To please various prominent individuals who continually worried him with suggestions, Saxe. favored the Nansen route, though his own had been mapped out years ago when the Propellier was in its infancy. “Following a northerly flowing current was all right for Nansen, and the Fram,” he argued, “but the famous Polar Basin, free of ice, has still to be located—Nansen failed.”

He had great admiration for Dr. Kane, considering him the bravest and most scientific of explorers.

“His dash for the Pole was not successful, because with all his tremendous knowledge he neglected the fact that the unknown, frozen north must be traversed by steel and steam, as is the civilized portion of the globe; and,” he continued, “we have progressed immensely since 1850,” then saluted deeply to our vigorous applause.

“Boys,” he cried, waving his cap, “I swear we shall succeed.”

Even Norris, though shaking his head, joined us in cheering.

Meanwhile we steamed steadily north, up through Davis Strait, viewing the great island of Greenland, bleak, cold, sterile, arctic. We anchored in the calm, deep blue waters of Baffins Bay, a half mile from the icy, snowy coast, and our luggage packed in small boats was towed to land. The captain and crew rendered us every assistance. These men had become wonderfully kind to us, believing firmly we were going to our death. Under their experienced hands tents for our accommodation reared as by magic, and we began the work of putting the Propellier together. Captain Norris had little faith in the Propellier, he asserted positively the machine would take us beyond human aid then “bust up.” He informed us of his intention to tarry in this vicinity several weeks; in case things went wrong with us he could hurry to the relief and gladly take us back to civilization.

“It’s on my conscience,” he told us, “you cannot succeed; but men with a fair amount of intelligence to risk their lives in a perilous attempt to reach the Pole deserve to die. The world is overflowing with asses, but those who commit such rash deeds are evil asses. Gentlemen, pardon me, but encouragement is criminal. Why are you going?” he asked us sternly, “For the benefit of science? Fudge! Professor Saunders, in search of a star! Bah! the sky is overcrowded with stars. Prove they are inhabited and you will benefit science. Professor Sheldon expects to discover a huge body of fresh water resting placidly in hollow ice mountains upon the frozen surface of the Polar Sea. And Saxlehner, with his remarkable invention, intends to return with the Pole under his arm! Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen! And you,” he continued, addressing me, “you with your millions, why in God’s earth are you going?”

He argued some time, telling me I was the lover of Dame Fortune, and gold the magnet of the universe. No one disputed with him and the poor old fellow’s voice finally quivered and broke, he turned away.

We felt as sorry for Norris as he felt for us. He’d done his best to persuade us to give up our polar trip—the absurdity of the effort was too profound for laughter. Saxe. took the captain aside and eased the troublesome conscience, convincing the poor gentleman, as he had everybody else, of the perfect efficiency of his invention. He invited him to examine the instrument which was rapidly nearing completion, and patiently explained each portion of the machinery. Norris became very interested and returned to his ship highly enthused over the Propellier. We had pitched camp in the midst of a little Esquimaux village, the chief told Saxe., who became very friendly with the tribe, being able to speak a few words of their language, that they settled here every season for the whaling and fishing. They pried around a good deal and interestedly watched us working upon the Propellier. They seemed to regard us with suspicion, but never failed to bring daily tokens of their esteem in the way of fresh fish and oil. Saxe. repaid their gifts with long strings of bright colored beads, which presumably he packed along for that purpose. Captain Norris and his men were on land most of the time assisting us, and created considerable jollity. One or two of the crew started flirtations with several Esquimaux women, rousing the ire of the men, who proceeded to chastise their women. I had not noticed the facial characteristics of the Esquimaux sufficiently to distinguish the sexes, they all looked alike, and when I saw them quarreling and fighting I thought the whole settlement had gone on the warpath, possibly over Saxe.’s beads, and we were in for it. Norris, between shouts of laughter, informed me of my error and that the women were thrashing the men.

The Propellier and cars were eventually ready for the great trial trip. The captain was invited to join us. He seemed dubious but accepted, and as we entered the car the same thought came to every blessed mother’s son of us—what if the blamed instrument should explode—we compared notes after the trip. I turned sick at the thought that now we were about to commence our journey in earnest the Propellier might fall short—we were all frank about our uneasiness. Saxe. alone had faith in his instrument and swaggered through the car to his place at the engine. All the sailors, and the whole Esquimaux settlement turned out to see us off with whoops, and yells, that would have sent a troop of Apaches scurrying in fright. Just at starting, the Propellier’s siren let off an ear-splitting blast that, in the clear atmosphere, must have been heard for miles. Saxe. went very confidently about his work, handling the great steel lever with expert skill. The Propellier dipped gracefully forward, we moved slowly. The sailors and Esquimaux followed with leaps and shouts, and one merry sailor placed his shoulder against the hind car as though to shove it forward and help us along; he was hooted and cheered in turn by his laughing comrades, but he came to grief. Saxe., oblivious, intent, sure of the result, watched the strange little electric time-piece set above the lever which he pressed several notches farther down, we bounded forward, gliding as smooth as oil, and the suddenness of the start caused the meddlesome sailor to fall—hard.

We literally flew, running at a rate of speed I did not believe the Propellier could ever reach, and as yet the lever nob had traveled but one-half its notched road, and Saxe. would test the full length. His eyes gleamed, and his usually ruddy face became pallid and pinched. He bent in a listening attitude and slowly pressed the lever to its last notch; the Propellier had reached the speed limit. The runners plowed the snow deeply, which flew up, covering the windows; we seemed to be traveling in the air; I grew dizzy with the marvelous velocity. Our captain seemed uneasy and wished to remonstrate with Saxe. to lessen speed, but Saunders pushed him aside in time. It was useless to speak with him now, Saxe. would not even hear; heart, soul, his very life, was bound up in his invention. Should the Propellier fail now that it had reached perfection, his heart would break or he would lose his reason. I went and stood beside him, the perspiration was streaming down his pale face, his tense attitude must have been painful; in very pity I was drawn to him. He was peering through the round magnifying window which brought the distant scenery to closer view, revealing the ruggedness of the snow plains. Suddenly the Propellier swerved, then with a wide, graceful turn made at full speed for camp. Saxe. rose to his full height, the color returned to his face and he heaved a deep sigh of relief, then saluted us.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “my invention is successful. I have the honor to state we shall reach the North Pole, in less than nine weeks.”

From our hearts we cheered the old boy, our whoops mingled with the shrill shrieks of the siren, and our return to camp was welcomed with noisy delight.

Captain Norris shook hands with Saxe., who beamed with joy. He was congratulated upon his success, and received the congratulations with the loftiness of genius.

The Propellier was perfect. The trip lasted one hour and twenty minutes, and the highest rate of speed reached ninety-five miles an hour.

CHAPTER VI.

Three days later we started upon our adventurous trip to the Pole. Captain Norris, when bidding us farewell, hoped we would all meet again. “Undoubtedly,” Saxe. replied, “undoubtedly we’ll all meet again, but perhaps not for years. All depends upon the atmosphere—ahem! I fear evaporation of the fluid in the Propellier’s cylinders. Should this occur we’ll be absent indefinitely. Many contend the earth’s summit is located at 90 degrees,” continued Saxe., in his most argumentive manner, “this is preposterous, but were it so that portion of the globe would have been explored long ago. The earth’s summit is at 100 degrees. I state this as a fact, and the difficulties I expect to encounter will be beyond the ninetieth degree. The atmosphere will be so compressed as to cause either an explosion of the fluid in the tanks, or gradual evaporation. For either calamity I am altogether unprepared, and consequently figure on the homeward journey to be one of acute hardship, and consuming an indefinite period. But shadows exist only where there’s brightness. At any rate we have provisions for seven years, and, Captain Norris, I’ll guarantee that in less time we’ll reach the Pole, and return to our homes, each busily engaged upon a book of ‘How I Discovered the North Pole.’”

Norris smiled, but avoided remarks, and shook hands all around; then I took him aside and intrusted him with a letter for old Middleton. I advised Middleton, though arrangements were waterproof, to personally attend to it that ships sailed north every year to meet us. (I knew he would, and spare no expense), and most humbly I begged pardon for breaking my word to him. I could give no excuse except the unknown polar regions fascinated me, and, against reason, at the last moment I joined the expedition. Years later I learned that Middleton, when he received the letter, was thrown into such a state of alarm and anxiety, that he collapsed and took to his bed with a serious illness from which he recovered with great difficulty. I am satisfied Middleton’s affection for me was disinterested.

Captain Norris, also his men, were superstitious, and declared they would not invite ill-luck by seeing us off; but the Esquimaux clamored about us, loading us with gifts. One gave Saxe. a keg of oil, which he stored away with great care; what he wanted with that oil was a mystery. Skins, furs were forced upon us, strings of fresh fish, and a great quantity of dried or frozen fish packed together like staves of a barrel was presented to me. We were each presented with a canoe, with the information that we would need them. Saxe. repaid this kindness with quantities of beads and imitation jewelry, and I flung a little fortune among the natives.

Norris saluted with four guns. The Propellier responded with a shrill blast from her siren as we sped out among the snow hills which soon hid all our friends from view. At last we were really started upon our long journey of marvelous adventure.

We traveled north along the coast of Greenland. The Propellier acted well, the feeler did splendid work, warning us of breaks or gaps in the ice by vibrating and resounding with hollow noise; the great arc-light cast a radiance of three hundred yards, and we traveled full speed night and day. Each were initiated into the mysteries of the engine room, and took turns in steering the machine. Saunders, however, was exempt from these duties, he permitted nothing to interfere with the work he’d mapped out for himself. He alone was spared from what is called snow-blindness; with his exception we were all decorated with great blue goggles. I was the first to succumb to the glaring whiteness of the snow. The continual sameness of arctic landscape became very tiresome. As far as the eye reached were vast plains of ice and snow, a blinding whiteness in soft, downy hollows and smooth mounds, the earth shrouded in a widening sheet of white velvet; and vividly in the distance with a blue, misty veil, shielding their peaks, was the circular range of ice mountains, that has been declared naught but an optical illusion. All polar explorers have viewed these strange mountains, whose distance is beyond speculation, having always that illusive appearance even at the highest altitudes. Scientists claim this mystic range to be a reflection cast by the heavy, frozen atmosphere. Sheldon was the only one with time to argue about the matter, he agreed with me the illusive range was a solid fact all right, but he went further, declaring they were not polar mountains, and that his great body of fresh water rested——etc. When he reached this stage in his argument my interest flagged. Sheldon and his body of water became very tedious sometimes.

Saxe. was occupied entirely with the Propellier, and Saunders altogether absorbed making atmospheric observations. These observations he takes every seven hours, making us lose much valuable time, and rousing Saxe. to caustic remarks; he puts in the rest of the time studying a chart of the heavens and peering at the stars.

Our first mishap occurred at 74–5° north latitude. The Propellier was speeding, when suddenly the feeler vibrated, then followed a jarring, crushing sound, and the Propellier plunged into a thin layer of ice and snow, and was washed by the swiftly flowing black waters underneath. At the first vibration Saxe. quickly shut off the current, then with considerable difficulty backed the Propellier from her perilous position. We had plunged into a parting or lane, fifteen feet wide and three miles long, concealed by new snow that had iced on the surface, and were obliged to make a wide detour.

Saunders reported a faint aurora borealis in the northeast.

It turned out to be the moon’s rays piercing a mackerel-sky. It was a beautiful sight. White shining clouds with antlers branching in long, waving ribbons crimped like blond, which scintillated in diffused patches on the horizon. As we watched the moon sailed high, dimming and scattering the shimmering radiance.

We had the laugh on Saunders, who stubbornly insisted the bright light was a faint aurora. As the heavens are one continual phenomenon, always inspiring mortal with awe, and considering that Saunders knew more of the heavens than any of us, I had a secret belief he might possibly be correct, particularly as we witnessed this phenomenon time after time when there was no moon. The same shining, white clouds, with rippling antlers parting in flaming rays, which stretched across the sky in a broad, throbbing arch, varying in tints of a yellowish, bluish, milky white; all cold, chilly colors, but beautiful.

Saxe. became bold over the successful traveling of his machine, and announced it his belief that we would reach the Pole in a month. But difficulties commenced when we reached 78 degrees north latitude, progress became slow and we were obliged to travel inland to avoid the high winds which threw the snow into insurmountable mounds, forming alleyways and embankments, and all the time from the north came that ominous warning boom as the ice packed and screwed together. “The Inevitable,” as Saxe. called it, and that which has confronted all polar explorers over the Greenland route, happened at 79 degrees.

Further travel was blocked by a chain of small ice hills, so closely packed together they formed a wall, seemingly an impenetrable blockade, extending as far as the sight reached. For several weeks we traveled in an easterly direction, then dared the jagged opening in the shifting chain, which revealed a veritable world of peaks, at sight of which Sheldon blurted out:

“It can’t be done, Saxe., old boy!”

But the Propellier was invented to crush all obstacles, and Saxe. grimly, cautiously steered through the icy gate. He found it very difficult to operate the engine in this terrible mountainous district. We were upon the frozen surface of the sea, whose waves seemingly had iced as they formed into the swell. We realized danger, but there was no turning back; through extreme caution we were spared disaster. Saxe. never left his post in the little engine car, he refused aid, we were not expert enough for the situation.

Weeks were consumed in passing over this hilly waste, but hundreds of miles were traversed, then gradually the ice peaks reared farther apart, juts, waves, smoothened; and we finally ploughed into a far-reaching plain of snow, with the distant horizon cut by the familiar, illusive range of mountains capped with their azure veil. We had reached 87 degrees, and were miles from our original course, but steadily advancing toward the Pole.

“87–5° north latitude, and 175–6° east longitude,” rattled off Saunders. The Propellier was put at full speed, but soon slackened as we continually encountered lanes concealed by soft, new snow. So frequent did these partings become the machine was forced to a zigzag course. It took half a day to make two miles, and when we halted the situation was alarming. The ice was shallow and breaks continual, having the appearance of lakes or rivers, the black, sullen water rippled and flowed with a swift undercurrent. Some of the lanes measured thirty feet in width, and one reached 700 yards in length. We agreed the danger was about equal in turning back or pushing forward; we had nothing to gain in turning back.

Sheldon was nonplussed. He could not account for the swiftly flowing surface streams at 88 degrees. He finally ventured they were not breaks in the ice, but freshets coursing from the north, ploughing their own avenues, and creating one of the phenomenons of the polar sphere. Saunders snickered, but Saxe. looked worried.

“A thaw somewhere,” he muttered.

But he was wrong; the cold was intense, and were it not for our superb heating apparatus, the pipes extending throughout the cars, we would have been compelled to turn back; nothing human could live in such temperature. Gradually we dashed free of the freshet bound region and traveled swiftly over a smooth, wide plain without rut or ripple, huge floes of ice packed and screwed together till seemingly one vast floe extended over the whole of this drear unknown continent, and always the same distance away was the blue mystic range of mountains. I wondered if we would ever reach them.

We were making splendid time, gaining on that lost in the mountainous and lake district, yet Saxe. appeared troubled.

“I fear a storm,” he told me. “We cannot escape them now, we are nearing the summit.”

That night a strange light illuminated the sky.

“An aurora!” shouted Saunders.

Undoubtedly it was, but the beauties of the aurora had paled upon us, yet this night the flaming, brilliant tinted sky held our attention. Awe-inspiring was the vast arch of fire, crown formed, spiked with quivering streamers. The fiery crown varied not in shade, but seemed to burn with deeper intensity as a dull, ominous red clouded some of its brightness. The quivering streamers oscillated with wonderful tints, making each seem as though studded with rare gems. The blood-red ruby glowed upon us, then paled to the amethyst’s heliotrope, which faded before the rush of emerald, flooding the sky, and the baleful topaz streaked the delicate green as the flaming arch, edged with the penetrating turquoise, quivered and vibrated with darts and flashes. As we watched the gaudy spectacle it seemed to dull, darken, and grow heavier as though gifted with substance, then with indescribable majesty slowly descended to the earth. The heat became intense, the atmosphere stifling. We raised the windows, but quickly closed them, the car filled with a sulphurous air which started us to coughing and sneezing. We glanced at each other silent, dismayed; Saxe., paled and trembling, sank to a seat.

“The Propellier will explode! nothing is proof against this!” he cried.

“We are witnessing,” said Saunders, in reassuring tones, “a phenomenon of the heavens, a combination of electrical forces which will soon disperse and rage in various portions of the globe. It cannot harm us should it descend, as its power, force, will have evaporated. This portion of the globe upon which we are now traveling is——er—hum——”

“God in heaven!” yelled Saxe. “Look, boys, we’re done for!”

Saxe., the mainspring of the party, to our amazement, was overcome with terror.

“Come,” he cried, retreating with frantic haste, “come, or we’ll perish! The Propellier is going to burst!”

We stampeded to the rear car and clustered around the window to gaze at that which had so roused Saxe.’s terror, while he sank in a heap, mopping his brow.

The wide-spreading arch of fire suddenly parted with a great blast of thunder, which rolled and revolved over our heads with terrific crash, then passed on toward the south. What chained our attention was the appearance of a great milk-white cloud that sailed through the parted arch, submerging it. A cloud, funnel shaped, of milky, opal tints, whose throbbing, fiery heart burned vividly beneath the thin, shell covering. It gained in size and weight as it advanced, and gradually losing flakiness became a dull, ominous purple, rapidly deepening to black, then with appalling suddenness it was upon us.

We were among the racing clouds, tossed and scattered by the roaring gale. Thunder boomed, and weird, lightning flashes pierced our car, then the hurricane struck us squarely, lifting, overturning the car, and we were buried beneath the wreck. I was stunned, but a slight scalp wound which bled profusely relieved me greatly. The heat was suffocating, my clothing became saturated with perspiration streaming from every pore of my body.

Saxe. was the first to recover and extricated himself from the storage and debris, unhurt but badly scratched, and once more the energetic, pushing old boy we were familiar with.

“The worst is over,” he bawled, “and the Propellier didn’t bust; but snow is falling in clouds—boys, brace up, or we’ll be buried alive!”

Sheldon and Saunders squirmed lively after this. We forced our way out of the overturned car and sank waist deep in soft, new snow, which prevented the gale carrying us away. The Propellier and adjoining cars were not damaged, the snow having blown up against, and piled high, protecting them almost entirely, but the wind now carried the snow over and down the sides, causing Saxe. to shout: “Hustle, boys, hustle! we’ll be buried alive!”

The heaters were filled and fires started; in a short time the waste pipes were letting off streams of steam. We shoveled a bank nearly twelve feet high, which protected us some from the wind, but it flung the snow upon us faster than we could work, and from steam to shovel we labored for our lives against odds for eight long, weary hours. But the storm spent itself, ceased as suddenly as it came, calmed beneath the freezing temperature that descended. The snow iced, our labor was over and we sought shelter, food and rest.

Saunders advised early departure, and two hours later we started. The Propellier made a rush up the steep embankment; midway she seemed to lose speed, but suddenly cleared the remaining distance at a bound. The dense atmosphere had lifted and plain upon plain of snow with wind-tossed mounds and hills met our vision, and over it all a crescent moon glistened mystically. The search-light flared and with a shrill blast we speeded northward. Midnight we had reached and traveled beyond the altitude scientists claim the earth’s pivot is located. Towards morning a heavy mist fell upon us, a dark, silent, deadly mist, which sent a chill to our bones. I could not shake off the dull feeling of dread that came over me. The Propellier glided smoothly, swiftly onward, taking us farther into this horrible death-land. The fear that tugged at my heart shamed me to silence. I glanced furtively at my three companions, who were unusually still, and whose faces blanched beneath my scrutiny. Then Saxe. suddenly halted the Propellier, and addressed us.

“Boys,” he said, “we have stood by one another, we are not cowards, but life is life, and the Pole be damned! We have penetrated farther north than man ever dared, we do not fear, but—others felt the same way in much lower altitudes and stampeded to civilization with tales of blizzards, blockades, and the impossibility of life beyond a certain degree. There are unknown dangers ahead, and death sometimes is very slow, and to struggle and dare and have it all end in oblivion, I think senseless. The earth’s summit is at 100 degrees. We have entered the mystic circle—just a league to discovery—the Propellier at full speed could dash through in a few minutes. We will suffer—an awful experience—a terrible risk; and, as I said before, boys, life is life. I call the expedition off; we will return.”

He glanced wistfully at me, but I avoided his eyes. The passion for the myth had for the time evaporated. After all, life is worth the living, the world is full of beauty and harmony if we choose to see it. I fully realized the hazardous undertaking I had ventured upon, and—God in heaven!—I may never return.

Saxe. was turning back through anxiety for his friends; were he alone he would crush the dread he imagined upon him and push ahead. He forgot the fanaticism of his comrades. Truly they were three of a kind. Saunders sprang forward and caught Saxe.’s arm.

“Correct! correct!” he cried, “we’re not cowards! Why are you turning back? The dread upon us is the dread of nature, the all-pervading fear of first venture, which the will overcomes or we’d still be apes. Determination invites progress, fear checks it; all dread the Unknown. Now, up to 98 or 100 degrees I can state positively what we’ll encounter. We’ve completely traversed the frozen polar sea, from now on it’s surface ice and melting snow slushing over brown rocks or earth. At 100 degrees we view the most uncanny scenery man ever gazed upon. Great mountains and steep, smooth cliffs, of petrification; deep, gloomy, barren valleys, horrible in stillness; and lightening up this dead, petrified portion of the globe, is the star, the star I will brave death to see. The foe we have to conquer is atmosphere, science may help, but there is no atmosphere. In advancing we flirt with Death, who’ll welcome us with dreadful grandeur, but a bold flirtation does not always end disastrously; we can view the all-mighty magnet, then depart.”

“Oh, don’t pay any attention to him,” interposed Sheldon, “he blunders constantly. If I believed in him I’d favor turning back. For days we’ve argued this matter; he’s merely expressed his views—not facts. I agree with him regarding the petrification of the earth surrounding the Pole, the cold is so intense petrification is natural, but the lack of atmosphere—laughable. From the high altitude undoubtedly we’ll suffer, experiencing palpitation, vertigo, and other inconveniences, including a tantalizing thirst. Then again, boys, nature being freakish, we may experience none of these ills, but enjoy the wild, weird scenery of the earth’s summit. We’ll view the blue Reflection Alps, and drink sparkling, crystal water, from the reservoir of the earth. Onward! Saxe., onward! but—should the Propellier cease to work we’re dead men.”

I listened to the absurd reasoning of my three esteemed friends, realizing I had three fanatics to deal with. Lacking persuasive ability I had to rely upon common sense and plain English to point out the folly of advancing. I had the power to command the expedition off and rose to better emphasize my words, when suddenly the doubts and nervous restlessness calmed in a deep, delicious languor, which overpowered and deadened reason. I made a feeble effort to regain my flying senses, but the soft, warm zephyr, heavy with an unknown, magnetic perfume, drugged my will. In that instant I revelled in dreams, a maze of love ecstasy, my pulse quivered and tingled with delight. I was blind to all danger, prudence vanished before impetuous recklessness and desire. I sank to my seat. “Onward!” I cried hoarsely, with wildly beating heart. “Forward! Saxe., forward!” And I, too, was a fanatic.

CHAPTER VII.

The following day we reached 95 degrees, experiencing no discomfort. I awoke from a nap and found the Propellier at a standstill, my three interesting friends crowded at the window, gazing out with the liveliest curiosity. I joined them and was astonished to see a strange, large plant, resembling a cactus, about five feet high, with greenish, putrid looking veins tracing through dull, brown leaves—a plant growing wild, vigorous, amidst a vast snow plain! I made for the door, so did Sheldon. As the first breath of air struck me it cut through my lungs like a knife, so intense was the cold, but after I suffered no inconvenience; in fact, the atmosphere was exhilarating, though close and thick, a misty twilight. I approached the odd-looking plant, it was icy to the touch, soft and pulpy like liver, with a sticky, moist surface. Saxe., Sheldon and Saunders hurried up, calling the plant various Latin names, to all of which it refused to answer. Then Saxe. took out his knife and cut one of the broad, thick leaves neatly down the middle. A reddish-brown fluid spattered the snow, emitting such a stench that Saxe. dropped that portion he held and the three learned ones bolted for the car.

I watched with interest the cut leaf shriveling tip, then placed the severed portion to the cut, making it fit exactly. At once a thin film formed over the parting, which gradually thickened into a fine skin and the shriveled leaf became soft and pulpy again with nothing but a faint line to show where the wound had been. Something about the plant nauseated me and I hastily returned to the car to find my three friends in a noisy discussion about it. Saxe. declared it was flesh, not vegetable. Saunders was positive it was a mineral product, and Sheldon frankly told them both they were asses; the plant was vegetable, how could it be anything else?

I never joined in their discussions, it was impossible to convince them of anything. They generally yelled like mad for a few minutes, then each, sure of his superior knowledge of all things, would gradually simmer down and draw out of the argument. And as usual Saxe. rose with that familiar know-it-all-air, and started the Propellier going. Sheldon and Saunders continued the debate for hours, in fact, till the plants became so thick and common Sheldon called time.

We seemed to be passing through a forest of brown rubber trees, some attaining a growth of ten feet, whose branches bruised against the car windows, staining them with their foul smelling fluid. The snow was thinning to slush and we jolted fearfully over the rocky, uneven road, but not till we had passed the forest of unearthly plants would Saxe. halt to remove the runners and fit the wheels. When we emerged from the nightmare thicket a rocky territory stretched wide before us, snow and ice traveling were at an end; our course appeared to be over the lava bed of a monster crater.

“I was correct!” shouted Saunders and Sheldon simultaneously, while they glared at each other. “I was positive when we reached the summit we would discover the outlet of all equatorial eruptions. We travel upon frozen lava beds, and——”

“Later on,” Saxe. cried impatiently; “we have work to do now.”

A few minutes later, muffled to the eyes, we trooped out into an atmosphere of stifling cold (no other expression for it) to remove the runners. Frequently I was seized with vertigo, but kept quiet as nobody else complained.

Saunders informed us we had reached 97 degrees north latitude. Three more degrees and we have discovered the Pole.

Saxe. worked, but at the same time watched us keenly, bawling instructions, then wasted a whole hour carefully inspecting our work.

“Can’t afford accidents,” he explained, “will submit only to the unavoidable;” and wheel after wheel was examined.

We watched him fooling away the time and amused ourselves cutting jokes at his expense, but he was entirely oblivious. Suddenly we were startled by the deep baying of hounds.

“Dogs!” gasped Saxe., “sounds like dogs!”

Saunders streaked it for the car, bawling to us to follow.

Sheldon suggested it might be the Relief Party, at the same time striding mightily for safety. Saxe. in his hurry tumbled over himself, and I, horrified, heavy man as he was, picked him up as though he were a child and hurried with him to the car, securing the door just in time. The great beasts rushed towards us and sprang upon either side of the Propellier, which shook beneath their weight. Saxe. turned on the siren, the monsters yelled and snapped at the steel, but held on, differing from other animals we had encountered, which, now that I mention the matter, are far from numerous despite the contrary exaggerations written by some arctic tourists. But the few roving animals we did meet renounced all curiosity at the first blast of the siren, which Saxe. now kept going at one continual ear-splitting shriek till the huge beasts finally dropped off and made for the car. What magnificent animals they were, certainly resembling dogs, but assuredly not dogs. Their monstrous bodies were covered with long, thick, white fur, and they dragged great plume-like tails. The immense head was ornamented with ridiculously small, pointed ears, with short, blunt horns growing behind. The larger animal sprang at the window from which we looked and broke it with his horns. He thrust in his great head; how his eyes glared and what awful fangs, and how he snapped and snarled, and strained and worked to lift his great bulk. Saxe. struck him with a piece of iron; with a howl he fell back, tumbling to the ground. I hurriedly took from the shelf two large fish that had been pounded to tenderness and flung them to the enraged beasts. Each grabbed a fish—what transformation! They sat on their haunches and regarded us with gratitude—it was gratitude—purely an animal trait.

Sheldon forgot prudence and leaned far out of the window, calling: “Poor fellow!” and “Good dog!” With the fish secure in their teeth they jumped about delighted, wagged their bushy tails, and trotted off contentedly towards the south.

“They were desperate with hunger,” I remarked.

“They were not,” Saxe. snapped, “they looked well fed, were fat. They feed upon those plants we’ve just passed, which are flesh, not vegetable. If those dogs, or whatever they are, had been hungry they would have devoured the fish at once.”

“If they were not hungry why did they come after us so fiercely?” I asked.

“In our country,” Saxe. responded, “we produce every product under the sun, yet we are continually importing foreign stuffs.”

This ended the discussion. When he thought it prudent, Saxe. ventured out to finish his interrupted inspection of our work and travel was not resumed till he was thoroughly satisfied.

“Hope we don’t run across any more queer animals,” he remarked to nobody in particular.

“We won’t,” Saunders replied, “we are too far up to discover anything but petrification and the Pole.”

“We are traveling upon lava beds,” Saxe. informed us, “and I believe we are in the pit of a huge crater—what misfortune if it should come to sudden eruption!”

“Ah, bosh!” sassed Saunders, “crater be blowed! we’re traveling upon rocks, petrified earth.”

“Nonsense!” bawled Saxe.

“Order, order, boys!” called Sheldon from the tanks where he was brewing quarts of coffee. “In case of necessity,” he murmured.

We were prepared for any emergency, the airpipes were stocked and heaters in good working order. I was busy putting in a new pane of glass in the damaged window, when I heard Saxe. say he saw cliffs ahead and heard a roaring sound. I heard a roaring sound also, but it was rush of blood to the head and I was attacked with a violent hemorrhage. But I soon recovered under Sheldon’s excellent treatment, which was smoking hot coffee. My three comrades suffered intensely from nausea, but each remained at his post. Saxe. guiding the Propellier, Saunders ever alert for his star, and Sheldon at the coffee stand serving out regular instalments, with the encouraging words: “It’s the best and only stimulant we can take.”

Though the air valves were opened wide, creating a slight draught, it seemed heavy with drugs. Drowsiness was overpowering, and though sleep meant death the eye-ball ached with weariness, yet we managed to keep each other awake, but eventually endured a siege of suffocation that was agonizing in the futile attempt to take a long breath, the gurgling effort leaving a heavy, suppressed pain in the lungs. We were tortured with every stage of suffocation except the last one—death. There was a thin streak of life in the atmosphere. It took an hour to pass the danger zone, yet not once did we think of turning back.

“Forward! forward!” always was the cry.

“We’re too expert, it’s got to be stronger to swamp us,” Saxe. declared, and Sheldon has since expressed great faith in “Determination, grim determination.” And during the trying time, possibly for the encouragement of everybody, including themselves, both aired very grand, lofty ideas about “will-vitality,” etc. I listened admiringly, but gradually lost interest, and in spite of heroic efforts succumbed to a stupor of weariness. I was dulled, not unconscious, and distinctly saw Saxe., for all his high-faluting “will-vitality,” turn livid as he slid from his seat. He was gasping, and limply moved his arms for assistance. For the life of me I could not move, seemed tied as in a nightmare. Sheldon flung the doors and windows wide, then rushed to Saxe.’s assistance, who had fainted for the first time in his life. The icy blast that swept through the car brushed the cobwebs from my brain and thoroughly chilled the treacherous lethargy from us all. But it took some time to recover from that “high air pressure,” and we had considerable trouble with Saxe., who took to his bunk.

Saunders’s predictions were correct, only reversed. He declared the atmosphere of the unknown circle to be charged with deadly gases (no atmosphere), but up to the danger line we would encounter brisk, icy winds. For upward of an hour we faced the “no atmosphere” problem, but within the Pole circle brisk, icy breezes blew life to us—no one dared mention the fact to Saunders.

Sheldon served around hot, fragrant coffee, and suggested lunch. When the meal was ready Saxe. had sufficiently recovered to join us and felt so invigorated after that he proposed we venture out and prospect. We advised against it, of course, but Saxe. was known never to take advice, and we might as well talk to the Propellier.

We discovered a broad plain stretching east to west to an infinite distance, but straight ahead the road continued as though leveled from the side of the mountains. Upon one side huge cliffs towered and upon the other deep, unfathomable chasms. The boulders were perpendicular and of glassy smoothness. A terrific gale was blowing, dark clouds scurried across the sky with occasional breaks, letting a star gleam through, and once a wide space cleared and the moon shone full, lighting up the strange, weird, beautiful scenery.

“If this is the dead portion of the earth, then death is certainly grand, sublime,” remarked Sheldon.

“According to the compass,” interrupted Saxe., whose mind apparently was not upon the scenery, “we must travel straight ahead, and that narrow road in front is the route. I judge it’s about fifteen feet wide,” he continued, “inclines sharply, curving into the cliffs down there. We must know what’s around that bend before we go splurging with the machine.”

We started down the narrow road, but the cutting ice wind chilled us to the heart and we huddled together with a distinct desire to avoid moving. “We’ll petrify if we remain stationary,” warned Saunders, “keep moving. But it’s not as frigid as it should be at this altitude. It’s the atmosphere and earth——”

Saxe. grunted and rushed ahead; we quickly followed, glad of anything to squelch Saunders, who once started upon his hobby was good for days. His language was eloquent, his subject always learned and instructive, and in a nice, warm room, we could have all gone comfortably to sleep, but in an atmosphere of ice, with the Pole almost in sight.... We reached the perilous bend in the road, it was engulfed in deep, black shadows, cast by cliffs above, but farther on re-appeared, stretching along the level for miles and miles, curving, undulating, like a gigantic serpent, and gleaming like silver in the strange light, neither night nor day.

“It was once the bed of a river,” remarked Sheldon, who, like Saunders, was daft on his hobby.

“Nonsense!” retorted Saxe., “it’s the main artery of a burnt-out volcano.”

“Volcano in the frigid zone!” laughed Sheldon.

We returned to the Propellier, tired out and panting heavily, the exertion made us perspire freely after a few seconds’ rest. Saxe. was anxious to push forward at once. We voted consent. He flared the search-light upon the road and the Propellier cautiously started down the incline. Up hill and down into deep, black hollows, we sped like the wind and very little level was there to this riverbed, artery, or whatever it was. Ever to our right were smooth, high cliffs, and to the left unfathomable mist shrouded valleys. The wild, uncanny scenery, magnetic in its monstrous, powerful unreality, chained the attention. Granite, granite, mighty boulders reared to stupendous height, casting shadows that stretched to the impenetrable, blue mist, shielding mysterious chasms. Vegetation? God! Vegetation in this dreadful place with its dull, horrible, mucky atmosphere? It was like a nightmare, awe-inspiring, firing the imagination.

Dread silenced us, an intangible fear made our hearts flutter, and we looked forward at any moment to what? It seemed we were among the damned. Unmerciful, unjust, is the punishment inflicted upon the erring, condemned to wander forever aimlessly alone in this terrible shadow-land. It is hell—if there is a hell.

Sheldon came and sat beside me.

“Going at a pretty good rate,” he said. “Not far from the Pole. Saunders informs me we’re at 99 degrees north latitude with some figuring to the west and some minutes thrown in for luck. Great chap Saunders! Saxe. is reckless to be rid of this place, the car is rocking enough to cause sickness, and not far off the road curves sharply. Wonder if he intends to risk it and go ahead.”

“Good heavens! Sheldon,” I gasped, “suppose the road ends there!”

“No, it doesn’t,” he quickly assured me, “I can see it farther on, but it widens and changes altogether, seems to wind down into the valley. We will certainly reach the Pole, very soon—then what?”

“And then what?” I repeated.

“Saxe. says Asia is on the other side. He intends to make the return trip through Asia, declares he wouldn’t pass this way again for millions. And say, Sally,” he whispered confidentially, “we might as well come out in the open and state what we came up here for. None of us have been fooled as to the other’s intentions and secretly worked in search of the object, to wit: The other side of the earth. Saxe. raves of the Pole, but did not work years upon the Propellier merely to travel to the highest northern altitude with it. Saunders pretends to be daft about his star, yet every astronomer in the world is aware of the existence of that star. It is not the star he wishes to discover, but that portion of the world it sparkles upon. And the great reservoir of fresh water is certainly not bubbling in the polar zone. But you, Sally, you have deceived no one. Boy, you mutter continually in your sleep and the passionate murmurs could never be roused by a star, a country, or a man. An exquisite vision, an alluring phantom has fired you—a woman, by Jove!” He nudged me. “The woman on the other side of the globe. We know all about it. That’s why you joined the expedition and fooled poor old Middleton, at the last.”

I gasped. Chuckling and winking, he left me. And my secret had been known all along, commented upon, and undoubtedly they joshed me among themselves. I felt odd for the second, then laughed the silliness away. Sheldon attempted to astonish Saxe. and Saunders as he had me, but they were ready for him and foreclosed. Then we all came “out in the open,” and had an eager consultation about the undiscovered country we expected to find. Each had theories which of course were different and superior to the other’s, but upon one point we all agreed—there was another side to this globe, figuratively speaking, a new world.

Columbus believed the “land where the sun set” to be a continuation of Asia, a new continent did not occur to him. We are more bigoted than people of those days. Superficial knowledge and science declares the earth orange shaped, divided into two hemispheres, with a handful of islands to cap the dejeuner. This vast globe never was and never will be fully explored. There are continents upon continents, teeming with civilization, I believe, vastly superior to our own with one exception—their world, like ours, does not extend any farther than their knowledge, otherwise they would have discovered us.

As we neared the sharp curve in the road Saxe. slackened speed and cautiously steered around it into a steep, narrow lane, partially obscured by elongated shadows. The search-light revealed the road widening farther on, then the cliffs ended abruptly and we speeded over a level, low country, one of those valleys that seemed so mysterious. A strong wind came up and whistled around the car, and upon it was borne the roar and boom of some far distant ocean. We dashed through the valley which was filled with death-like odors, up a steep mountain path, and were once more on the old familiar road, banked with cliff and precipice. Saxe. vowed we traveled in a circle, but the atmosphere suddenly cleared, the heavy mists floated upwards, and the black chasms we took for valleys were but a continuation of cliffs and ceaseless hills backed with a dismal vista of rugged plains, fringed by a lofty range of black mountains capped with a strange, soft glow.

“We are nearing the summit,” Saxe. told us; “if the road continues like this we should reach it in an hour.”

We reached the North Pole in less than an hour. The road we had followed so faithfully gradually zigzagged to the summit of a precipitous mountain, then parted abruptly at the sharp lip of a deep, unfathomable pit. The view was magnificent, grand, diabolical, and in the strange half light fantastic shadows seemed to dance and beckon. Our route gleamed like a silver thread as it widened through the valley beneath to be submerged in far distant ice and snow fields. And down in the deep, black mountain pit, surrounded by high walls of shining petrification, was the ocean, whose roar had so puzzled us. An ocean? A wide pool of dark, glassy substance, without ripple or disturbance, yet the roar blared, deafening, like a great horn.

“Any amount,” said Sheldon, “that water down there is hot.”

“Won’t take your bet,” Saxe. answered, “but it’s hot all right, it’s lava—don’t care to investigate. But, gentlemen,” he suddenly exclaimed, “gentlemen, gentlemen, we have discovered the Pole!”

We gave three rousing cheers; the echo was like a thousand voices.

Saunders, after taking observations, told us we had reached 100 degrees north latitude. Time, 5.20 A. M.

“Onward!” cried Saxe.

But Sheldon called our attention to the sudden disturbance in the black waters below. Even as he spoke we heard a sizzling, bubbling sound, and a great column of water shot upward hundreds of feet, falling with tremendous roar; then another column mightier than the first rolled upward, while the mountain quaked to the detonation.

“Onward!” shouted Saxe.

The Propellier shot down the side of that quivering mountain like a rocket. Looking back I saw column after column of fiery, steaming substance boil upward in rapid succession. With lightning speed we got out of the vicinity of that strange pool with its marvelous geyser-like action, and did not slacken up till we were miles away; then—glory be to glory! we had reached the North Pole, and passed it.