WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK
A last, lingering pressure of the hand, a hasty exit from the ball-room
and Captain Mortimer hurried back to his post of duty. He reached the
corridor, returned the salutes of the three sentinels as he passed, and
went into the antechamber. He stopped for several minutes’ conversation
with Captain Swords and then made his way to the first door of the
Chancellerie suite. A light tap and the door was opened by Kearns.
“Back in good time, I hope!” whispered the Captain.
“In plenty of time,” Kearns whispered in return, as he hastily closed
the door. “I’m glad you went. It’s not very interesting sitting here in
the dark, without even the privilege of a comforting cigar. Still, I’ve
had a few experiences of the kind before.”
Captain Mortimer removed his sword and stored it away in the air-ship.
It was a strict military regulation that officers should appear abroad
only in uniform and wearing their swords.
“I’d suggest,” he said as he took his seat beside them, “that it
might help pass the time if Mr. Kearns would tell us some of the many
interesting experiences he doubtless had in his time. The darkness here
will lend an additional thrill. What say you, Professor?”
“We’ll get enough thrills before we’re through with this adventure,
provided our friend Kearns’ theory is correct,” replied the Professor
dryly; “still, if he’ll tell a story, I’ll be glad to listen.”
“No, no;” protested Kearns; “all my interest is centered in that park
and in watching for what may come from over those tree-tops. Ah,
listen!”
As he spoke there came three faint, but distinct, taps on the door;
then a pause, followed by four similar taps.
It was the agreed signal which Captain Swords was to give when the King
retired.
“From now on we may expect something,” remarked the Professor.
“Interesting but scientifically inaccurate,” retorted Kearns.
“Before long we may expect, but not just yet. You must allow for
some time after the retirement of the King before you can expect any
manifestations. It’s now fully an hour earlier than the time of the
preceding visit.”
“Quite so,” replied the Professor; “still I’ll wager, for all that, you
wouldn’t care to have us go to sleep during the next hour.”
“Right you are,” assented Kearns; “one can never be quite sure what may
happen. Those fellows, whoever they may be, seem to know pretty well
what takes place in the palace. They doubtless have a confederate, or
confederates, on the inside.”
“You think so?” said Captain Mortimer. “Have you made any efforts to
discover?”
“None whatever,” answered Kearns. “I’ve been too busy with other
matters. I’m after the main quarry. The subordinate details, if
necessary, can be attended to later.”
This seemed sound reasoning and neither of the others ventured a reply.
The moments slowly passed. They sat there in the darkness exchanging
only occasional whispers. They heard the chime of one of the palace
clocks--an hour had passed and still nothing. Again the clock chimed;
it was the quarter. The sound had barely died away in the darkness of
the summer night, when Kearns laid a light touch upon the Professor’s
arm.
“_At last!_”
The three bent their heads together.
“Look upward--to the right!” came the low whisper.
They strained their eyes in the direction indicated. Faintly seen in
the darkness was a shadowy something, the outline of some black object
floating in the air.
“Steady!” whispered Kearns, in an ever so faint whisper. “Not a move
till I give the word!”
The dark object, though still indistinct, became gradually more
clearly outlined. It crossed at some little distance out and above
their window, passed the windows of the King’s apartment and was lost
to their view opposite the window of the antechamber where the King’s
officer on duty kept guard.
“An air-ship--an air-ship, sure enough,” whispered the Professor. “And
apparently painted dead black.”
“Quite so,” replied Kearns, “but this time we’ll match your gray one
against the black. Great Scott! To think that I’m not in the race.”
Several minutes passed and the ship did not reappear.
“My God!” exclaimed Captain Mortimer, “you haven’t allowed them to
escape us?”
“Hush, no!” answered Kearns; “do not fear. They’re cute ones. They’re
scouting and ’ll surely return.”
The whispered words had hardly left his lips when the air-ship
reappeared. This time it halted in a line with the King’s window.
“Steady and quiet!” said Kearns. “The time has come.”
Quickly, silently they rose and took their positions in the air-ship,
as it lay upon its rests. Stealthily Kearns crept to the window and
with one turn of the well-oiled and carefully prepared machinery, the
entire bay window curved outward, leaving a wide opening. Through
this gap, the launch-like air-ship skilfully guided by the Professor,
gracefully slid into the night. Rapid as had been these movements, they
were not more rapid than those of the attacking party. As the window
flew back and the prow of the air-ship passed out, the Professor and
Mortimer saw them loosen their mooring, turn about and away. By the
time the opening had been cleared, the pursued were several lengths in
the lead, but the royal air-ship was following hot in their wake.
High over the tree-tops of the park they flew and on and on until
they reached the river. Thus far they had maintained their respective
distances, neither apparently gaining or losing.
“Turn on the flash-light!” called out the Professor, “or we may lose
them in the darkness.”
An instant later a bright stream of light shot forth from the prow of
the “Royal Dean,” flooding with its radiance the pursued.
Captain Mortimer and the Professor saw that the craft before them was
slightly larger than their own, of a dead black color and contained
three men.
“Ahoy, there!” came a moment later the hail from the pursued. “Who are
you? What company do you belong to?”
Captain Mortimer rose to his feet.
“Halt!” he commanded.
At sight of his uniform in the glare of the search-light, there seemed
to be a sudden consternation among the pursued. Their air-ship shot
upward to greater heights. Instantly the Professor handled his levers
and followed. A hurried conference between the pursued seemed to be
taking place.
Captain Mortimer picked up a repeating rifle from the floor of the
air-ship.
“Surrender!” he shouted, his voice ringing strong and clear;
“surrender, you rebels, in the name of the King!”
No attention was given to this summons. The pursued kept steadily on,
heading toward the north.
“Halt!” again commanded Captain Mortimer, raising his rifle. “Halt, or
I fire!”
For answer to this, a man appeared in the stern of the pursued bearing
before him a bowed shield. From the ease with which he handled it, it
was apparently very light but doubtless strong enough to withstand a
bullet. There was a steel projection at the base of this shield and, in
the light of the flash-light, they saw him drop this projection into
a socket. The shield was thus held in place and the occupants of the
air-ship protected from any pistol, or rifle fire, from the rear.
It was a revelation to the pursuers. The attacking party was not only
furnished as an aërial scout, but was furthermore equipped as a species
of armored aërial cruiser. The Professor drew his companion’s attention
to this fact.
“Yes,” answered Captain Mortimer, “and if they were supplied with means
of offense, such as repeating rifles, they would be not only an aërial
cruiser, but a very effective aërial man-of-war. Do you think there’s
any vital part of their craft, so that I could disable them with a
bullet?”
“Our craft could not be so disabled,” answered the Professor; “neither,
so far as I can judge, could theirs be.”
“Then we must flank them,” said Captain Mortimer, “and try to bring
them to terms in that way.”
“Very well,” answered the Professor; “I’ll see what I can do.”
He accordingly endeavored to navigate his craft to a position on their
left quarter, but the pursued were wary and quickly shifted, keeping
the protecting shield between themselves and the pursuers. At last, by
clever manœuvering, the Professor had almost succeeded, when up went
another shield, effectually protecting a large section of that quarter.
“It’s no use,” exclaimed Mortimer, laying down the rifle; “it’s a
veritable armored cruiser. No matter what quarter we flank them on,
they undoubtedly have enough shields to protect all sides. By heaven!
they seem to be drawing away from us.”
“Yes; they’ve certainly increased the distance between us somewhat,”
assented the Professor, “but they’re not as far away as they were a
few minutes ago. I don’t understand it. They seem to gain and then we
seem to creep up on them a little. Perhaps this may be due to certain
effects of the air currents, but it is decidedly peculiar.”
Captain Mortimer made no reply. He sat watching the pursued craft,
distinctly outlined in the rays of the flash-light. On and on they
rushed at topmost speed through the yielding air, grown raw and chilly.
The first streaks of light began to flicker in the east. The pursued
now rose to still greater altitudes, until the air became uncomfortably
rarified. The Professor manipulated his levers and the pursuers
followed.
“What are they up to now?” asked Captain Mortimer. “Trying to dodge us?”
“Perhaps,” answered the Professor. “It looks more to me as if they were
trying to keep out of sight of land as the daylight comes.”
“Any chance of our giving out?”
“No; we can keep this up for many hours yet.”
“And they?”
“I don’t know. Judging from the qualities they have shown so far, it’s
best to assume they are fully as well equipped as we.”
“What are the prospects of overtaking them?”
“Not very favorable, I should say,” replied the Professor. “We’ve been
going at our topmost ever since we started and yet we haven’t gained
upon them. In fact, they’ve gained a trifle on us. You see, they are
somewhat larger and probably have more power. As it is, I am astonished
we haven’t lost them before now.”
“What’s the likelihood of our losing them altogether?”
“I can’t say,” replied the Professor, “but our chances against losing
them improve every minute as the light comes on. We’ll soon be able to
at least keep them in sight for a very great distance. You may shut off
the flash-light now.”
“There’s nothing you can suggest?”
“Nothing,” answered the Professor. “Under existing conditions, there
are only two courses open to us.”
“And they are?”
“Either to keep on as we are doing, or give it up as a bad job.”
“Give up!” exclaimed Mortimer in a disgusted tone. “I’m unalterably
opposed to that. We started out to follow them, and follow them we
will until either this air-ship gives out or we overtake them.”
“Or we lose sight of them,” suggested the Professor.
“Or we lose sight of them,” assented Mortimer grudgingly; “but I trust
you’ll do your best to avoid that.”
“You may count upon it that I will,” answered the Professor stoutly.
“Besides,” continued Mortimer, “they can’t keep this up forever.
They’re making for some point and some time or other they must effect
a landing. Then it will become interesting. Hello! what are they up to
now?”
“They are descending. See! they are increasing the distance between us,
too.”
“If they descend, it will give me a chance to pot them from above,”
suggested the Captain, again taking up the rifle.
“It seems awful to fire upon them,” exclaimed the Professor wistfully;
“especially as they are not offering us any attack, but are only
seeking to escape.”
“Fire upon them!” cried Mortimer warmly; “I may fire, but I have
certainly no intention of hitting them. I would, though, send the
bullets sufficiently close to make matters look serious and possibly
stop them. But to shoot men in cold blood--never! I am an American
soldier, sir, of the twentieth century and we’ve nothing in common,
thank God! with the assassins of your day--the butchers of Little Knee
and the murderers of gallant Sitting Bull.”
“Sitting Bull!” exclaimed Professor Dean, with astonishment, “so he has
passed down in history as one of the legendary heroes and a reproach to
the men of my day.”
“Very decidedly,” answered Mortimer. “You should read Goodrow’s
history on the subject and Krebiel’s noble poem, ‘The Death of Sitting
Bull.’”
“History is certainly a strange thing,” commented the Professor.
“Argument is somewhat difficult at this altitude; besides, I’ve these
pesky levers to look after. I should like to take up that subject with
you later, though. By the way, do they still play a game called ‘poker’
these days?”
“My dear Professor,” answered Mortimer, “the American game of poker is
immortal.”
“And they still bluff at the game?”
“Probably more so than ever.”
“You’ll not have an opportunity of trying the bluff you spoke of,” said
the Professor, as he nodded toward the pursued. “See the protecting
shield go up.”
Mortimer looked and saw a shield had been so adjusted as to at least
partially protect the air-ship from an attack from above.
“A cunning set!” commented Mortimer.
“That’s what our friend Kearns said they were,” replied the Professor.
“I suppose we had best follow them and return toward earth.”
Again the Professor juggled with his levers and they shot rapidly
downward.
“There’s something else going on there,” remarked Mortimer as he eyed
the pursued. “What is it?”
They had descended many hundreds of feet. A number of mountain tops,
apparently forming part of an extensive range, were more or less
indistinctly outlined below.
“Mountains?” commented the Professor.
“Yes,” said Mortimer, “and from the general lay of the land I should
say the heart of the Adirondacks. But what are they doing there?” he
inquired eagerly, pointing to the pursued, who were manœuvering with
some instrument projecting over one of their quarters.
The Professor watched closely for some minutes.
“It’s some signaling instrument,” he said at last. “They are signaling
the land.”
BOOK III
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
CHAPTER I
“WHO ARE YOU”
The movements of the pursued craft, which Professor Dean described as
signals, continued for only a short time and then once more the pursued
rose to a great altitude. The “Royal Dean” tenaciously followed.
“I thought we were going back to earth, but now it seems that we are
heaven-bound,” remarked the Professor.
“Whether they make for heaven or the other place, we’ll follow them as
long as there is a follow left in us,” answered Mortimer grimly.
For some twenty miles the mysterious craft kept its way, then, still at
the same altitude, suddenly described a great semicircle, and laid a
course due south.
“What are they up to now?” questioned Mortimer.
“Blessed if I know,” replied the Professor. “It looks very much as if
we were going back the way we came.”
“Curious!” commented Mortimer. “I suppose we can only follow and await
developments.”
“That’s all,” assented the Professor.
The opinion expressed by Professor Dean that they were returning over
practically the same course proved to be correct. Back they went for
some twenty miles, and then the pursued began to descend, followed, of
course, by their obstinate pursuers.
The occupants of “The Royal Dean” perceived they were dropping into a
great valley, shut in on all sides by towering mountain tops.
“It seems we are to make a landing at last,” remarked Mortimer,
scanning the valley beneath.
There was no reply to this remark. Mortimer turned leisurely to address
the Professor again, but was startled to see the latter staring with
dilated eyes into space.
“See!” he gasped. “There! Ah, and there!”
Mortimer looked in the direction indicated and was dumbfounded to
perceive to the westward, slightly above them, another air-ship bearing
down.
“Look over there!” exclaimed the Professor, pointing to the East.
Mortimer shifted his glance to another air-ship. An instant later two
more appeared, the one to the North and the other, beyond the line of
the pursued air-ship, to the South.
“We’re surrounded,” gasped the Professor, amazed. “What’ll we do? Try
to escape? I fear, though, it will be useless, judging from the speed
which I see they develop.”
“Useless or not,” replied Mortimer obstinately, “we started out to
follow that air-ship and follow it we will to the bitter end.”
Even as they spoke, the four air-ships were rapidly closing in upon
them and they could see that they were several times the size of the
“Royal Dean” and that they carried a number of men. As they drew
nearer, they saw what appeared to be miniature cannon protruding from
their quarters. An instant later the air-ship to the West came within
hailing distance. A man stepped to the prow and shouted something which
they did not clearly hear.
“They evidently want to speak to us,” said Dean, and he slowed down and
came to a stop.
The air-ship to the West also checked its speed, but still kept slowly
approaching. The other three air-ships were fast closing in.
“Why did you stop?” asked Mortimer with some annoyance. “We don’t want
to let those fellows get away from us.” He nodded in the direction of
the pursued.
“No fear,” answered the Professor. “They are descending straight into
the valley.”
“Hello!” shouted Mortimer to the air-ship to the West.
“Hello!” came back the answer. “Who are you?”
“His Majesty’s air-ship, the ‘Royal Dean’,” replied Mortimer, adding
with an aside and a chuckle to the Professor: “How’s that?”
The reply appeared to exercise a strange effect upon the men addressed.
The man in the bow turned to those behind him and a brief parley seemed
to ensue. Finally he turned about and again hailed them.
“You are our prisoners!” he shouted.
“Prisoners!” roared back Mortimer. “By what authority do you dare thus
address an officer of the King’s Guard?”
All four air-ships had now drawn quite close and had come to a stop.
All were drifting in the air currents.
“Authority!” called back the spokesman. “You’ll learn that later.
Surrender!”
Mortimer was standing in the extreme bow of the air-ship. He turned to
his companion.
“Professor, hand me that rifle.”
Professor Dean bent forward and picked up the rifle from the floor
of the air-ship. As he rose with the weapon in his hand there came a
warning shout from the spokesman.
“Fire one shot,” he cried, “and we will blow you to the moon!”
“You scoundrels!” called back Mortimer, “try it!” And he turned to the
Professor, holding out his hand for the rifle.
The Professor calmly drew back and dropped it over the side of the
air-ship.
“What have you done--what have you done?” cried Mortimer furiously.
“Saved you from yourself!” replied his companion coolly. “I don’t mind
your fighting when you have half a chance, but to resist here is sheer
madness.”
Captain Mortimer paused an instant, hesitatingly.
“I suppose you’re entitled to some consideration in this matter,” he
said sulkily. “There may be some truth in what you say. Perhaps I can
best aid the cause I serve by exercising diplomacy for the moment and
biding my time.”
“Now you’re talking concentrated sense,” replied the Professor. “That’s
the proper way to look at it.”
As he spoke, the air-ship on either side had drawn close in upon them.
Each of these air-ships threw out a long, powerful prong, resembling a
giant boat-hook, and held “The Royal Dean” securely. Words of command
rang out and an instant later the two air-ships began descending at
moderate speed to the valley below, drawing down the captive craft
between them. Mortimer picked up his sword and buckled it about his
waist. The Professor was silent. Both stood in their respective
positions, expectant and alert but offering no further resistance.
They reached the bottom of the valley and gently grounded upon tufted
grass. As they did so, the captives glanced about and saw that they
were surrounded by a number of rough-looking men, who had evidently
been awaiting the landing. They also saw with some astonishment that
in the forward rank stood a young woman, jauntily attired in a natty
hunting costume. A short skirt of some dark material fell over a pair
of high-laced russet shoes and a pert red feather peeped forth from
the saucy little hat which covered her short black curls. As she stood
watching the captives, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her black
eyes sparkling, she presented a remarkably pretty picture of a brunette
of the slender, sinuous type.
There were hurried exclamations, greetings and questions--addressed by
the men on the ground to the men in the arriving air-ships. The answers
seemed to cause considerable perturbation and excitement. At a word of
command two men stepped forward and seized Captain Mortimer roughly by
the shoulders.
In an instant he had shaken them off, and with two smashing blows sent
them sprawling to the ground.
“I surrender,” he said; “not to you, you scum; to the lady!”
And he raised his hand in military salute.
One of the men struck lay on the ground, apparently stunned, but the
other sprang to his feet with an oath. His hand flew to the back of
his belt and out flashed a long, ugly-looking knife. Mortimer sprang
lightly over the quarter, set his back against the side of the air-ship
and drew his sword. A murmur--half-angry, half-excited--went up from
the surrounding groups of men. At the prospect of a fight their
curiosity and interest were whetted. The man with the knife crouched as
if seeking an opportunity to spring in and attack, while Mortimer stood
coolly on the defensive, a half smile upon his face, as he watched the
man’s awkward points.
At this juncture the girl turned and hastily whispered to a tall,
rawboned man who had just climbed out of one of the capturing
air-ships. He instantly broke through the ranks and came forward.
“Back, Jackson,” he cried to the man with the knife; “quit now!”
“He hit me,” replied the man, with a savage growl, “and I’m going to
rip him up. Out o’ the way, Cap’n.”
“It looks as if two could play at that game,” replied the man addressed
as Captain, with a grin. “Back, I say. This man is a prisoner and goes
before the Colonel.”
With some hesitancy the man sheathed his knife and slunk back among his
fellows.
“Follow me!” said the Captain to Mortimer; “and you, too,” he added,
nodding to the Professor.
The latter clambered over the side of the air-ship.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“But I don’t know whether I am,” cried Mortimer, still standing sword
in hand. “Who are you? A military organization, or a band of outlaws? I
hear you speak of captains and colonels! And by what authority do you
talk of prisoners?”
“I can’t answer your questions,” replied the other, civilly enough;
“but if you follow me, you’ll perhaps learn all you want to know.”
“Diplomacy!” whispered the Professor. “Let me again urge diplomacy.”
“Very well,” said Mortimer, sheathing his sword; “let’s see this farce
through to the end.”
They accordingly fell in on either side of their conductor, who led the
way for some little distance down the valley, abruptly turning to the
right into a broad, deep cañon. Packed in the cañon in long rows and
heaps were what appeared to be quantities of stores covered with huge
tarpaulins. Here and there were large, cave-like openings in the sides
of the hill, with men passing in and out. It was evidently an extensive
encampment and these cave-like openings either led into quarters for
the men, or were storing places for more material.
The most astonishing spectacle of all presented itself at the further
end of the cañon, where a big, roughly-built, black-bearded man,
dressed in buck-skin and broad-brimmed felt hat, a leather belt about
his waist and drawn sword in hand, was drilling a squad of men. A short
distance away was a large tent, with a smaller one on either side.
As soon as he perceived the three approaching, the man in command of
the squad gave an order to a subordinate and advanced toward them. He
stopped when some twenty paces away and motioned to the man in charge
of the two prisoners to approach. The latter did so and in a low tone
made his report, whereupon the leader turned abruptly upon his heel
and made his way to the central tent. The man who had been conducting
Mortimer and Dean returned to them.
“You’re to go before the Colonel,” he said.
“The Colonel!” exclaimed Mortimer, with a guffaw. “Colonel of what?
May I inquire what regiment this is?”
“Ask that of the Colonel,” was the answer.
“At least tell us the name of this Colonel?”
Their conductor hesitated a moment.
“You may call him Colonel Henry,” he said.
“And you? You bear the rank of Captain, it seems. How may we address
you?”
“I am second in command here and you may call me Captain Robert.”
“Ah, indeed!” exclaimed Mortimer with sarcasm; “an un-uniformed body of
men, whose officers all seem to be known by their first names. I’ll be
much interested to discover the nature of this organization.”
“Traitors are apt to turn up in every cause,” was the grave answer,
“although this cause has never known one so far. Hence it’s wise to
take every precaution.”
“Cause--what cause?” inquired Mortimer.
“No more questions, please,” answered Captain Robert. “I bear you no
ill-will and I want to give you a word of friendly advice. Speak to the
Colonel softly and civilly. He’s a hard man at times and it will be
well to remember you are in his power.”
Mortimer was about to reply, but the Professor hastily interposed.
“I take your advice in the spirit in which it is given,” he said, “and
I thank you.”
Captain Robert led the way to the central tent, ushered in his two
prisoners and retired. As he did so, a squad of six men, armed with
rifles, fell into line behind Dean and Mortimer. The latter found
themselves confronted with Colonel Henry, who was seated before a large
table facing the entrance to the tent.
“Your names,” he asked curtly, with a scowl.
“I’m Captain Mortimer, of the Imperial Guard, and this is Professor
Dean,” was Mortimer’s reply. “Who are you?”
“Since when have prisoners taken to doing the questioning?” asked the
other, with an ugly sneer.
“Prisoners!” retorted Mortimer, scornfully, “to whom--to what
authority?”
“Yes, prisoners!” was the answer with rising fury, “and if you’ve any
doubt on that score, I’ll soon convince you of the fact.”
He paused a moment and calmed himself with an effort.
“You are prisoners,” he continued, “just as the rest of the Imperial
Guard will be soon--prisoners or dead.”
Captain Mortimer laughed derisively. Trained in the roughness of
service in camp and field, he was no great adept in the milder methods
of diplomacy and the soft answer that turneth away wrath.
“Since when did you escape from safe-keeping?” he asked contemptuously.
Henry rose to his feet, his face flushed with anger.
“You may laugh,” he cried, “but what I say is true. They’ll all be
prisoners, or dead!”
Mortimer shrugged his shoulders, with the air of a man who declines to
pursue an utterly nonsensical proposition further.
“Enough,” exclaimed Henry. “What I want to know is where you got that
air-ship?”
“That’s for you to find out,” replied Mortimer.
“And I will,” retorted Henry, with growing anger. “That air-ship was
stolen from one of our camps. There’s been a traitor somewhere and that
traitor I propose to discover.”
“Yes?”
“Yes; if I have to drag the secret out of you by main force.”
“You certainly stand an excellent chance of doing it!” sneered
Mortimer. “This much I’ll tell you, though, so that no innocent person
may possibly come under suspicion: The air-ship is not stolen property.
It was built by an honest man and is the property of His Majesty, the
King.”
A look of mingled astonishment, incredulity and anger came into Henry’s
face as Mortimer spoke. At the closing words he startled perceptibly.
“You lie!” he cried.
Quick as a flash of light, Mortimer’s long, sinewy arm shot across
the table and closed upon the other’s throat. Henry was a big,
strongly-built man, but struggle as he would he could not free himself
from that vise-like grasp. Over went table and chair, and back they
staggered to the side of the tent, Mortimer’s death-like grip neither
shaken nor loosened. In an instant Henry’s men recovered from the first
shock of surprise and the whole file rushed in to the rescue of their
chief. The shouts of the men and the sounds of strife reached the
outside of the tent and other men, headed by Captain Robert, rushed in
and lent their aid. The struggle was sharp but brief and, overborne by
numbers, Mortimer was finally dragged away, a stout rope wound about
his arms. Dean, too, they seized and secured.
Henry had been thrown down in the struggle. He rose to his feet, black
in the face and gasping, and staggered against the side of the tent,
his hands pressed to his throat. Some of the men stood bunched around
Mortimer, to restrain any further outbreak; others busied themselves
picking up the various articles scattered around the floor in the
struggle. Recovered somewhat from the fearful choking, Henry walked
across the tent, his face working with anger. He confronted Mortimer,
standing bound amid his captors.
“Curse you!”
And he struck the prisoner with his open hand full across the face.
The blow was a heavy one and would have taken a weaker man off his
feet. A great shiver of rage convulsed Mortimer’s powerful frame, he
strained furiously at his bonds and his blue eyes blazed with fury as
he glared into the dark face of his opponent.
“You hound! Should we ever meet face to face, you’ll pay for that with
your life!” he muttered between his teeth.
A furious retort was upon the lips of Henry, when Captain Robert
abruptly interposed.
“You dare to interfere!” cried Henry, beside himself.
“No, but--” and Captain Robert whispered, his face close to that of his
chief. The bystanders caught only the words “treatment of prisoners,”
“general orders” and “High President.”
“Enough!” broke in Henry, with a violent effort keeping down his rage.
“Take him away. I’ll deal with him later. Take him away, I say, before
I kill him where he stands!”
CHAPTER II
VALERIE SEEKS NEWS OF THE FASHIONS
Captain Robert lost no time in carrying out the order thus received to
remove the prisoners. Placing himself between them, he marched from the
tent and hurried down the cañon.
“I warned you to take matters quietly,” he said reproachfully. “Yet you
seem to have acted like a keg of explosives from the moment you got
inside the tent.”
“I wish I could find myself face to face with that scoundrel, man to
man, for a few minutes!” retorted Mortimer. “Oh, for a company of the
Guards at my back at this moment and I’d soon teach that fellow and
those behind him here a lesson. Prisoners or dead he said they would be
shortly. I’d show him that these same Guards were very much alive!”
“Prisoners or dead, eh?” repeated Robert. “Did he tell you that?”
“Yes,” answered Mortimer impatiently.
“He spoke only the truth,” said Robert solemnly.
Dean started. This was the second time within a few minutes he had
heard this declaration and the man who now uttered it spoke earnestly
and with conviction. In Mortimer the words created nothing save
irritation and impatience. The idea of a body of bandits, or other
ruffians, talking of annihilating the famous Guards--one of the crack
regiments of the world. It was too preposterous!
“Are you afflicted, too?” he asked with contempt. “But never mind
that! What’s this body of men here? We are at least entitled to know to
whom we are prisoners.”
They had come to the end of the cañon and had reached the main valley.
Robert led in sharp turn to the right and kept along parallel with the
base of the mountain.
“I may not answer your questions,” he replied, “but unless I am much
mistaken, there will shortly arrive here one high in authority with
whom you will talk. This air-ship of yours must be reported at once. It
is the most momentous thing which could have happened.”
“Why so? And who is this one high in authority of whom you speak?”
asked Mortimer.
Robert parried his question with the query:
“Suppose you tell me where you got your air-ship? Did you secure it
from one of our camps?”
“That ruffian back there has already asked me that,” replied Mortimer,
“and I told him that it wasn’t stolen, as he seemed to think, from any
of your people, but was the legitimate property of His Majesty, the
King.”
“Then it was sold to the royalists by some renegade of our party,”
exclaimed Robert excitedly.
“Not at all,” replied Mortimer. “There you’re quite wrong.”
“Who built it, then? Have you any more such ships?” continued Robert
with the same avidity.
“Steady, now!” replied Mortimer, smiling at the other’s eagerness.
“You’re not particularly liberal in the matter of information and we’re
not generous, either,” he added with sarcasm, “after the treatment we
have experienced here.”
“For that,” replied Robert humbly, “I ask your pardon in my behalf
and in behalf of many others here who will learn and not approve of
what has been done. The Colonel is a hard man--a brutal man, if you
will--but a highly capable one. Hence he is in command here. Blood will
have to be shed so that our cause may prevail, but the great mass of us
are, I may truly say, opposed to any unnecessary violence.”
“You speak strangely,” said Mortimer.
“Perhaps it may so seem to you,” replied Robert, “but it’s nevertheless
true. When the hour comes we shall strike, to the full extent that may
be necessary, but not one step beyond that. Those are the orders--the
orders of the High President.”
“The High President!” exclaimed Mortimer, coming to a dead stop. “Ah!
I see--I see! I’ve heard that title before. This--this--camp is a camp
of Reactionists and you--you--you--are rebels--conspirators against the
King!”
“Hush!” said Robert warningly.
“You deny it!” cried Mortimer.
“I affirm or deny nothing!” replied Robert. “I’ve already said too
much. Come, let us move on.” He touched Mortimer lightly on the arm.
They walked a short distance further on down the valley, to a large
circular opening between the mountains, where a singular sight
confronted them. In that great circular valley, moored to right and
left, like shipping in a harbor, lay some two dozen air-ships of
varying sizes. In the foremost rank were the four great ships which had
effected their capture, and nestling behind these four was their own
craft, the “Royal Dean.” Here and there men at work were moving about
among the ships.
Silently they stared for a moment upon the scene before them.
“I would much like to inspect some of these,” whispered Dean to Robert.
“May I?”
“I hardly think I have authority to grant you that privilege,” replied
Robert, smiling, “but _your_ ship will doubtless be subjected to very
careful scrutiny by us. By the way, is there anything about it that
requires attention for the moment?”
“Nothing,” replied Dean; “everything is automatically controlled and it
can remain as it is for a month without injury.”
“Did you take part in fitting it up?” asked Robert curiously.
“For any and all information,” replied Dean, with a laugh, “I must
refer you to Captain Mortimer.”
Robert good-naturedly joined in the laugh against himself and led the
way on board one of the larger air-ships. This air-ship was supplied
with quite a spacious cabin and into this cabin Robert showed his
prisoners, unbinding the ropes which confined their arms.
“This will have to be your dungeon cell for the present,” he said,
with a wave of the hand around the cabin, “and I think you will agree
it might be worse. For my part, I’ll do all in my power to make you as
comfortable as possible. We have a very fair commissariat department, I
think you’ll find, and I’ll at least see to it that you’re well looked
after in that direction. My quarters are quite close to yours and
whatever is prepared for my daughter and myself you shall share.”
“Your daughter,” repeated Mortimer. “Was that the lady whom we saw when
we landed?”
“Yes,” replied Robert; “my only child. The organization here sought
me because of my knowledge of mechanics which rendered me useful in
connection with these air-ships. I would never have consented to come,
though, if it had meant separation from my girl, so they agreed to
her coming with me. She’s a great favorite here. They call her ‘The
Daughter of the Regiment.’ But, while I am talking away to you, I
expect you are pretty hungry.”
“I confess to experiencing a sense of vacuum,” said the Professor.
“I’m as hungry as a bear,” said Mortimer.
“Then your wants in that respect shall be quickly supplied,” replied
Robert cheerily. “In the meantime you’ll forgive me, I know, if I
secure this door on the outside and put a man on guard. That’s the
usual military process, I believe, Captain?”
“Very well,” answered Mortimer, with a laugh. “I promise you not to
escape during the next hour--not until after breakfast.”
“And your sword,” said Robert, glancing at the scabbard which hung by
Mortimer’s side. “I suppose, according to strict military rule, I ought
to demand that you give it up.”
Mortimer’s face darkened.
“I served through the Russian war,” he said, “and was never taken
prisoner. To yield up my sword would be a new experience to me. I’ll
yield it to none here, and those who would have it must take it by
force.”
“Well,” answered Robert in a conciliatory tone, “we needn’t quarrel
over that. We hold you securely enough here as it is and can afford to
leave you your sword.”
With these words, he stepped from the cabin, secured the door on the
outside and the two prisoners were alone. Instinctively they turned and
faced each other.
“A pretty mess we’ve made of it!” exclaimed Mortimer, with a laugh.
“We started out to capture those fellows and here they’ve turned the
tables and captured us. A nice little ambuscade we’ve walked, or rather
flown, into. The worst of it, too, is that I thought it was only a
night’s work and I didn’t even get leave of absence from the Guard--all
of which is quite an infraction of military discipline.”
“And I,” bewailed the Professor, “what a mess I’ve made of it!
Never once in the excitement of the chase did I think of using the
aërestograph to communicate with our friend Kearns. You see, I was kept
pretty busy handling the air-ship and keeping watch on the movements of
the fellows in front of us. Still, I suppose I ought to have managed to
send him a message or two.”
“Not at all,” replied Mortimer; “you were not to blame. Up to the
moment of our capture what news was there to send? We were every moment
awaiting developments.”
“And when those developments occurred,” remarked the Professor dryly,
“it was no longer in our power to send messages.”
“Quite so,” assented Mortimer, “but all that happened was so utterly
unlooked for that we could hardly have been expected to foresee it.
Those who are disposed to criticise may be reminded of the old axiom
that foresight is never equal to hindsight.”
“Quite true,” answered the Professor, “but what can you suggest as the
best way out of our present position? What shall we do?”
There was a sound at the door, as of someone at work on the outer
fastenings.
“Nothing--until after breakfast,” replied Mortimer. “Ah, here it comes,
I think--and welcome.”
As he spoke the door opened and there appeared, at the head of the
steps leading down into the cabin, the graceful figure of a girl
carrying a large tray substantially laden with food. At a glance they
recognized her as she whom they had seen upon landing.
Professor Dean rose and bowed.
“Miss Robert, I believe?” said Captain Mortimer, also rising and bowing.
The girl deposited her heavy tray, ran over to a locker and procured a
white tablecloth which she spread upon the table.
“Yes,” she replied, with a merry laugh, “but here in the camp they call
me ‘Valerie.’”
And she turned a pair of merry brown eyes upon them, eyes that rested
with evident admiration on Mortimer’s jaunty military jacket, with its
gay trappings. As she stood there smiling, with her high color, her
jet-black hair, her graceful figure, and large but very white teeth
showing between her full, scarlet lips, she was unquestionably a very
pretty girl.
“Valerie,” repeated Mortimer, gallantly. “That is certainly a very
pretty name, but a rather uncommon one in this country.”
“Yes,” assented Valerie, still laughing, as she busied herself with the
table; “I suppose it is. My mother was French and I was named after
her. They tell me you come direct from the palace,” she prattled on.
“Are any of the ladies there called Valerie?”
“I think not,” replied Mortimer, joining in her merry mood. “It would
be hard, even at Court, to find a name as pretty as that.”
“And is it true that the ladies are wearing dresses cut in Directoire
style?” continued Valerie.
Mortimer broke into a hearty laugh.
“Really,” he said, “I am not competent to answer that. Perhaps,” he
added mischievously, “my friend Professor Dean, who takes a great
interest in the ladies, can inform you upon that subject.”
Thus appealed to, the Professor fairly blushed.
“Well,” he stammered confusedly, “I don’t know much about ladies’
dresses, but it is true that the fashions have reverted to something
like that which was in vogue some two centuries ago and the ladies at
the Court to-day are wearing dresses which suggest those of the days of
the French _Directoire_.”
“There!” exclaimed Mortimer triumphantly. “You see he is an authority
and I referred you to the right source for information.”
“It must be a very pretty fashion,” remarked the girl musingly. “How I
would like to see those dresses--and the Court and the ladies there!
What a pity it seems that a Court is wicked and must be done away with.”
“What makes you think the Court is wicked?” asked Mortimer curiously.
“Oh,” replied the girl, “I have always been taught that. Everybody
here says it is. But I am keeping you from your breakfast,” she added,
hastily.
“Not at all,” protested Mortimer and the Professor together. “Pray
stay.”
“No; I must go,” she replied regretfully. “I was specially told I must
not talk much to you and if I stay too long, father will suspect and
not let me come again, and,” she added with a saucy smile and a final
admiring glance at Mortimer’s uniform, as she fled up the steps, “I
_want_ to come again.”
As the door closed behind her the Professor turned to Mortimer.
“They say that every woman is at heart a royalist and I verily believe
this very attractive young woman has a leaning that way.”
“The saying is a very true one,” replied Mortimer. “From what little
I have read and observed on the subject, I should say that the
women--God bless them!--had much to do, by indirect but nevertheless
powerful influence, with the formation of the monarchy, and womankind
to-day is to be reckoned as one of the staunchest supports of the
throne.”
And with this summary of the situation, he turned with interest to the
breakfast before them.
They spent the remainder of the morning and afternoon in arguing over
various measures and plans of escape. There was a sentinel, they knew,
constantly on duty outside the cabin door, and should they break out
and confront this man there were doubtless plenty of his comrades at
hand to come to his assistance before an escape could be made. From
what little they had seen of the valley they had perceived that it was
apparently enclosed on all sides by high, precipitous mountains, which
would take much time and effort to scale and would afford excellent
opportunities for pursuit and recapture. Any clumsy and unsuccessful
effort at escape would naturally lead to greater vigilance on the part
of their captors. They were both agreed that they must be patient for
the moment and watch for some favorable opportunity before venturing an
attempt.
Their dinner was brought them by Valerie, who stayed longer than
before, chatting gayly and coquetting at a lively rate with Mortimer.
After dinner they received a visit from Captain Robert, who came with a
bundle under his arm.
“I cannot offer you cigars,” he said, “for there is a shortage of those
luxuries here, but I can give you some excellent tobacco.” He took the
bundle from under his arm and laid upon the table some long clay pipes
and a stone jar filled with tobacco.
“There’s a great consumption of pipes among our people,” he said, “and
we manufacture these ourselves--both the long and the short variety.”
The Professor smiled.
“You seem to have extensive facilities for various kinds of
manufacturing,” he remarked with meaning.
Captain Robert laughed outright.
“I’m not going to give you any information on that point,” he said,
“but I can tell you something of interest.”
“Yes?”
“The news of your capture and of your air-ship,” continued Captain
Robert, “has been forwarded to headquarters and it seems to have made,
as I predicted, quite a stir.”
“Ah! is that all!” answered the Professor, with some disappointment.
“By no means,” replied Robert. “A certain important personage is on his
way here. To-morrow you will receive a visit.”
“From whom?” inquired Dean curiously.
The other dropped his voice to a whisper:
“From the High President himself!”
CHAPTER III
THE MASKED VISITOR
It was close upon noon on the following day when Captain Robert
presented himself before the prisoners. He was eager and excited.
“Are you ready to receive the visit I spoke of last night?” he asked.
“Ah!” exclaimed Mortimer, with a slight show of interest, “is His
Mightiness, your famous High President, here?”
“Yes,” replied Robert; “he arrived just before daylight and has been
busy during the morning around the camp.”
“Arrived before daylight!” repeated Mortimer. “Your High President is
an early traveler.”
“Those who come to this camp,” answered Robert gravely, “invariably
arrive before daylight. I don’t think I’ll betray any very special
information if I tell you in confidence that he was picked up at a
distant point from here and arrived by air-ship.”
“That’s just what I surmised when you first spoke,” said Dean quickly.
“Then your surmise was quite correct,” replied Robert. “He arrived and
he will leave by air-ship. Are you ready to receive him?”
Mortimer and the Professor both assented and Robert started for the
cabin steps. But he stopped and again turned to them.
“I know nothing definitely,” he said, “but I strongly suspect the
interview you are about to hold will be a most important one. I have
your welfare at heart. I beg you to receive the High President in the
right spirit and to give due heed to his words.”
“I thank you,” said the Professor appreciatively.
“And I thank you,” exclaimed Mortimer, “but I’ve already had one
unpleasant experience here. Your High President shall be received by
us with due consideration and we will listen carefully to whatever he
may have to say to us, provided the manner and language adopted are
such as may be properly tolerated by a gentleman of the high scientific
attainments of my friend, Professor Dean, and myself, as an officer of
His Majesty, the King.”
“Ah,” exclaimed Robert enthusiastically, “you need have no fear on that
score. Don’t for a moment compare the High President with anyone you
have seen here. The High President is a man of the highest culture and
of the highest calibre. He is the most God-like man who has lived since
the days of Washington--a leader gifted with genius for organization,
a patriot who seeks nothing except for his countrymen; brave,
enterprising, resourceful, merciless when the occasion demands it, yet
with a heart full of love for humanity--such is our High President. He
will go down to posterity as the greatest patriot and leader of men of
the centuries.”
Robert’s eyes blazed with enthusiasm as he spoke and his manner was
full of earnestness.
“We will bear your words in mind,” said the Professor. “He is doubtless
very worthy, since you estimate him so highly.”
“And you--what say you?” asked Robert, turning questioningly to
Mortimer.
“I can hardly be expected to subscribe to your views,” answered
Mortimer coldly, “inasmuch as I have reason to suspect the person to
whom you refer to be engaged in an organized and armed rebellion
against the government and to be an enemy to the King.”
Robert stood for a moment looking sadly into Mortimer’s face and then,
without another word, withdrew.
Some ten minutes later the door again opened and looking up they
saw Robert. He stepped back, opened the door to its fullest extent
and there appeared a man tall of stature and of massive physique.
With movements which were remarkably rapid for one of such giant
proportions, he passed down the cabin steps and stood before them.
Both Mortimer and Dean looked up with a start of astonishment.
Their visitor was masked.
“Greeting!” he exclaimed, as he stood facing them, using the common
form of salutation of the day. Long ago the Professor had duly noted
that the comparatively meaningless “Good-morning!” and “Good-day!”
of the olden times had passed into disuse; as had also that almost
pathetic expression at parting: “Good-bye!” They were as obsolete
as the “Good-morrow!” of the eighteenth century. People now said
“Greeting!” or “Salutations!” or “I salute you!” when they met and
“Re-meeting!” when they parted--thereby intending to courteously convey
the idea that they looked forward with anticipation and pleasure to
again meeting the person from whom they were taking leave. “To our
joyous re-meeting!” Surely a happier salutation than the old-time sad
“Good-bye!”
“We greet you!” responded Mortimer, in turn using the customary form of
salutation.
“I trust you have been well cared for,” continued the visitor, “and
that your detention has been made as comfortable as circumstances would
permit.”
“With the exception of a dastardly insult received from him who appears
to be in chief command here,” replied Mortimer, flushing with anger at
the recollections of the event, “we have received every kindness and
courtesy.”
The visitor waved his hand deprecatingly.
“The matter has been reported to me,” he said, “and you may rely upon
it that I have severely reprimanded the offender. Only the existence
of an extraordinary exigency has prevented the summary removal of the
officer. Such action, I beg to assure you, is entirely contrary to the
spirit and rules of our organization.”
“Then I accept your explanation,” answered Mortimer. “I’ll only hold
the man himself responsible for his act. Let us put that matter aside
and pass on to other subjects. I wish to know what is this organization
assembled here that has dared to hold in detention my friend and
myself, both in the service of His Majesty, the King.”
The visitor threw back his head proudly and answered without a moment’s
hesitation.
“You may have experienced some reticence on that subject from those
about you,” he said, “for it is well that subordinates should be
trained to caution and to secrecy, but I have no hesitation in
satisfying your inquiry. You are prisoners by the right of Might--the
paramount right in the affairs of this world--and the body to which you
are prisoners is the Federated Nihilists of America.”
“Ah, Nihilists!” exclaimed Mortimer.
“Yes,” was the reply; “commonly but very inaccurately referred to by
you of the Court as ‘Reactionists.’”
“And you,” said Mortimer; “you are the High President?”
“I am the High President.”
There was a momentary pause and Mortimer again spoke.
“Then, may I ask of you,” he said, “as the head of this organization,
what are your plans concerning us? Is this detention to last
indefinitely, or have you any terms to offer us?”
“Let us be seated,” answered the High President. “I have much to say
to you and much may depend upon our conference. I see that you have
smoking materials on the table. Pray smoke, if it please you, and if
you think it will add calmness and wisdom to our deliberations.”
Professor Dean had thus far not uttered a single word. There was a
strange straining and puzzling going on in his mind. Certain accents
in the voice of the High President struck upon his ear with a strange
familiarity. Where before had he heard that voice? Was it among some
of those whom he had recently met, or was it merely a resemblance
conveying a suggestion of his former life--of the long ago?
They took their seats about the table and faced each other for a
moment. Then the High President spoke.
“As I have told you,” he said, “this body is known as the Federated
Nihilists of America--a body which you, Captain Mortimer, have
doubtless now and again vaguely heard referred to as ‘The
Reactionists.’ Nothing could be more inaccurate, or misleading, than
this term, inasmuch as the entire spirit of our organization is
directly opposed to reaction. The royalists call us ‘Reactionists’
because they believe our aim is to upset the monarchical establishment
and revert to the former Republic. Nothing could be more wrong, and I
say to you frankly that between the Monarchy of to-day and the old-time
Republic, as it existed prior to the crowning of the first American
King, the Monarchy is the better institution.”
“If you admit that,” said Mortimer argumentatively, “what is it you
seek to attain?”
“That which the title of our organization implies,” replied the High
President. “We style ourselves Nihilists and, as you know, the word
Nihil is from the Latin and signifies ‘Nothing.’ First, existing
institutions must be wiped out--reduced to nothing--before we can build
up the new. Our aim is to extinguish--to annihilate--to destroy--not
only the existing monarchy, not only all relics and customs which have
been handed down to us from the Republic preceding that monarchy, but
all existing institutions. We regard these existing institutions as so
unsatisfactory, so corrupt, so vile that it would be a useless task to
seek to better them. You will never reach a given point, no matter how
you may press onward or take turns to the right or to the left, if you
are on entirely the wrong road. So it is with existing institutions.
The conditions are so utterly and hopelessly wrong that it is a useless
task to seek to improve them. The only recourse is to wipe everything
out and build up entirely anew.”
“Wasn’t that idea formulated in Russia a long time ago?” asked Mortimer
thoughtfully.
“The idea was agitated in Russia over a century ago,” replied the High
President, “and its advocates prosecuted in a more or less crude and
barbarous fashion their ideas and their plans. It does not follow that
because an idea is old, it is devoid of merit. On the contrary, nearly
all the great ideas and movements in this world have been in existence
a long time--have been old--before the world has finally accepted
them. The soil of Russia, however, never was a suitable soil for the
cultivation of the plant of Liberty. Here in the broad, free American
air, Liberty will flourish and give to mankind a new and happier era.
Our Nihilism, while founded upon the same basic principle, is in its
practical workings upon a far more scientific foundation. It is a
Nihilism brought down to the requirements and the civilization of the
twentieth century.”
“And you really think this Nihilism of yours, with its Russian origin
and its later-day modifications and improvements as worked out by you,
better for the American people than the Monarchy?” asked Mortimer.
“Undoubtedly,” answered the High President. “The American atmosphere
and the genius of the American people are not really suited to a
monarchy, although thanks to the trend of peculiar circumstances those
forces here which favor that form of government--and I will admit they
are by no means few or lacking in influence and power--have for the
time being the upper hand. The real mission, however, of Americans,
with all their faults and foibles, is to teach the world at large new
and greater forms of liberty and human happiness, ever growing grander
and greater throughout the successive cycles of time.”
“And you think your Nihilism better suited for the American people than
a republic, such as that which was supplanted by the present Monarchy?”
said Professor Dean, who had been an attentive listener and who now for
the first time joined in the conversation. “Ah, sir, I have heard you
refer with striking disparagement to that Republic. I would gladly have
you give some reasons for these views!”
“Bah!” exclaimed the High President contemptuously, “the old-time
Republic, eh! Could anything more evil, corrupt, hypocritical, farcical
and criminal exist under the sun than that old-time Republic of yours?
All modern thinkers, writers and sociologists are agreed as to that.
You have heard me say that of the two the present monarchy was the
better institution, and I spoke advisedly.”
“What--what!” stammered the Professor, fairly taken aback at the
directness and violence of the attack. “Your reasons, sir--your
reasons!”
“Reasons?” repeated the High President. “They will not be hard to
give. To-day we have only one King. He is great and rich and powerful,
so much so that he need seek no further self-advantages but may rest
content with all that which is his. He need have an eye only to the
welfare of his nation and his people. We have an aristocracy, too;
also great and rich, so much so that they can well afford to lay
self-interest aside and seek public life with a view solely to the
greater glory of their country. There are exceptions to this, of
course, but I speak of our aristocracy as a class. Then, too, our
aristocrats of to-day have been aristocrats for a sufficient time to
be at least free from the shortcomings, the arrogance and the vices
which have ever marked the _parvenu_. Now let us look at the old-time
Republic!”
“Yes, yes,” exclaimed the Professor, bending forward in his eagerness.
“The old-time Republic,” continued the High President, “had not one
king but many. You had not a monarch--serene and majestic, clothed
in the royal purple, bearing the sceptre and crown and surrounded by
the glitter and the glory of an imperial court. Instead, the land was
divided up among a parcel of little rulers--men mostly of low origin
and ignoble ideals--who really exercised kingly power. Take your proud
Empire State of New York--a state as broad, as rich and as populous
as some of the great empires of Europe. Two little kings reigned
there--the one, a small, shrivelled, old man who divided his time
between the handling of parcels and the pulling of political wires;
the other a beetle-browed, sullen ruler, whose brutal hands, reeking
with crime and corruption, were ever stretched forth to grasp further
plunder.”
“By heaven!” exclaimed Mortimer, “was it really as bad as that!”
“I am quoting to you almost literally from the chronicles of the
times,” replied the High President. “These two little kings absolutely
ruled the state between them. It was at their royal behest that
governors were nominated and elected, legislators selected and judges
put upon the bench. When any opposition to their respective rules
appeared to threaten them, they promptly joined forces, fought shoulder
to shoulder and, under prearranged agreement, divided the subsequent
plunder. Behind them was an armed banditti of many thousand men, known
as a police force and supposed to be organized for the protection
and enforcement of law and order. As a matter of fact, this force
was nothing less than an organized body of ravishers and despoilers,
preying upon the people and levying tribute right and left. It is safe
to say that the operations of all the banditti since the beginning of
the Christian era, nor any invading army, ever equaled in the amount of
loot secured the operations of the force I speak of which stood behind
these two kings.”
“Well, well,” exclaimed Mortimer; “things must have been pretty bad in
your Republic, Professor!”
Dean lowered his eyes as one who is ashamed.
“There is much that is correct in all this,” he said; “much that I
cannot truthfully contradict. But proceed.”
“Aye, and proceed I will,” replied the High President stoutly. “The
aristocracy which surrounded these kings--that is, the men who formed
their courts and helped to administer the public affairs--were in
many instances vulgar publicans; men who derived their incomes by the
maintenance of groggeries and low dancing houses, or worse--gamblers,
touts, and a sprinkling of ex-convicts and little lawyers. Such was
the aristocracy and the environment of these kings--the men who really
ruled the land. I have spoken so far of the proud Empire State of New
York. If you turn to the East or to the South, the middle country or
the West, you will find that much the same conditions prevailed. Deny
it, if you can!”
“I think,” protested the Professor, “that your criticism is, perhaps,
directed into too narrow channels and that it treats too much of
certain phases of mere partisan, or local politics.”
“But was not each State sovereign and independent,” retorted the High
President, “and did not each State make its own laws and govern itself
generally? Then, too, how was the Federal government itself made up
except from the combined selections of the different States?”
“Still,” persisted the Professor, “I think that your criticism might be
directed toward more broad and general conditions of our national life.”
“That, too, I will do since you have demanded it,” replied the High
President. “Let us go back to the days of almost primeval man. What did
the chief of the tribe, or band, do? He parcelled out the best of the
plunder, or possessions, among his strongest fighting men, or else
among the priests, or medicine men, or whoever was equally powerful
with the fighting men in his particular way. Take it again in feudal
England. What did the feudal Kings do there after the Norman Conquest?
They divided the best lands of the country among the powerful Barons
who formed their Court. And so it was in your Republic. The good things
of the land--the great public franchises--were all parcelled out to
these modern feudal Barons who waxed fat and built their wealth into
the millions upon that which had been given them at the expense of the
people.”
“But there were, I remember, various objections raised,” said the
Professor, “to any other course being adopted--such as government
ownership.”
“Objections!” exclaimed the High President contemptuously; “objections
can be raised to anything. The murderer doubtless has his objections to
the gallows and the thief strongly objects to the jail. There was at
least one shining example of government ownership in those days. Was
there anything so reliable or so admirably administered as the public
mails--entirely conducted by the government? How is it possible in a
true Republic to contemplate that which belongs to the public being
given away for the benefit and enrichment of the few and the public
correspondingly robbed to that extent.”
“And yet,” remarked the Professor, “in spite of these criticisms which
you make, it seemed to be generally admitted that our people under the
Republic had better reason to be contented than the people of any other
nation on the face of the globe.”
“And so they had the right to expect to be,” retorted the High
President, “but surely what you advance is no argument. Ought the
people here to be satisfied merely because they are comparatively
better off than the people of Scandinavia and the people of Scandinavia
in turn be well content because they are comparatively better off than
the people of the interior of China? But let us look further into the
question as to how well the people under the Republic were contented.
Were they really contented, or did they individually accept existing
conditions because they could discover no particular way of changing
them? Do you think that the average man among the great masses of the
people was satisfied to work all his life for a pittance which was
insufficient in most instances to fully furnish him, year in and year
out, with the actual necessaries of life and see another man, of the
same clay as himself, who could afford to squander aimlessly in one day
upon an old bit of cracked porcelain, a piece of painted canvas, or
some drab of the footlights, whose complexion was as false as her soul,
as much money as that other man earned in a lifetime. And yet the one
man was, perhaps, fully as well endowed physically and mentally as the
other and the life work of the one was fully as useful to the community
as the work of the other. Why, then, this awful disparity? Do you know,
too, that statistics show that of ten adults dying under your vaunted
Republic, nine went out of this world subjects for Potter’s Field? I do
not mean by this that they were actually so interred, for the love and
respect of friends who lent their aid usually saved them from this, but
I do mean that nine out of ten died without leaving sufficient behind
them, after a lifetime of honest, unremitting toil, to actually pay
their burial expenses.”
“I was unaware of that,” said the Professor, “and it certainly is a
shocking disclosure.”
“Shocking, indeed!” retorted the High President. “I do not think
there is any disputing that. And do you believe that the people were
satisfied on the land question? It does not require any great depth of
learning in political economy to know that the source of all wealth is
the land. All that which we have is either taken from the earth, or
else is grown upon or fed from the surface of the earth. Is it to be
believed that God put the minerals, the oil, the coal into the earth
for the benefit of an exclusive few, or that he put them there for the
joint and common benefit of the masses of mankind? Did He make the
surface of the earth fruitful and send the showers and the sunshine,
which alone enable it to fructify, for the benefit of a chosen few,
or for the common benefit of all? That the former was the case seems
to have been the theory which prevailed under the Republic, for we
find that the great bulk of the land was owned by the comparative
few. Do you think the masses of the great cities were individually
satisfied that acre upon acre of city blocks should be owned by certain
families to whom all those dwelling in those blocks paid a heavy rent
tribute year in, year out--a tribute amounting upon an average from
one-fourth to one-third of the total income earned? What substantial
difference was there between this and mediæval feudalism? And what did
those land-cornerers do with the vast surplus sums accumulated from
the tribute wrung from those rent slaves? The chronicles show that
they cast about them for communities as yet in their incipiency but
presenting possibilities of growing into populous centres of activity.
In these growing communities, these land-gluttons bought up the best
portions of realty, which they let lie for the time being, unused
and unimproved, paying merely the low tax imposed upon unimproved
property. The community was built up by the enterprise, the labor and
the efforts of the masses; it grew into a city and became populous;
its land became valuable. When their vacant lots had acquired value
through the efforts of the people--efforts in which they had in no way
participated--these land-cornerers put up structures and proceeded with
the old game of levying the rent tribute. If ever there was an instance
of unjust enrichment, it was this.”
The Professor remained thoughtfully silent.
“Talk not to me of the old-time Republic,” continued the High
President; “it died because of its innate rottenness--because of the
apathy of its people--and the littleness and corruption of its public
men. Look at the infamous record of your Food Trusts, which forced up
the prices of many articles of food so that they were beyond the reach
of the great mass of the poorer people. Contemplate the Coal Trust,
whose directing powers first advanced, under the Republic, the hitherto
exclusively monarchical claim of Divine Right, and proceeded to
manipulate the coal supply so that citizens of the Republic were frozen
to death, while thousands of unknown and unrecorded others undoubtedly
perished from diseases incurred as a result of insufficient warmth. The
unfortunate poor might have derived a little benefit by burning oil,
but what did the eminent citizen of that day do who, while not claiming
to be God’s anointed, yet had contrived to absorb all the oil of the
country? Why, he promptly took advantage of the situation and raised
the price of oil. It is true that at the same time he, with reckless
generosity, contributed some ten thousand dollars to a benevolent
enterprise, but in the meantime he had pocketed a cool million by
the advancement of the price of his commodity. Here was a million
wrung out of the sufferings of God’s poor and a sop of ten thousand
dollars thrown out to hoodwink and propitiate the Almighty. What must
have been the Deity’s sentiments over this estimate of the financial
perspicacity which sought to deceive him by such a ruse--a ruse which
would have been apparent to the intelligence of the dullest office-boy
employed in a commercial institution!”
“All those events were duly criticised at the time,” murmured the
Professor, “and came in for their share of censure.”
“Criticism--censure!” exclaimed the High President with disgust. “But
what did the people do? Did they seize upon those who withheld the food
and the warmth and rush them to public execution, as did the people of
France with their oppressing nobles in the days of the great French
Revolution? No; they did nothing! They waited and stared and suffered
like dumb cattle driven to the shambles. And the public men of the day?
They conferred a good deal and they even threatened a little, but--it
was a very respectful threatening in the face of Mighty Capital. The
Chief Magistrate of the Nation in that day was a man still young--a
man strong, vigorous and bold, who had filled various public offices
ably and well and had proved himself a brave soldier in the field. He
was the people’s idol and the people’s hope. There was food in plenty
to be had from other lands, but it was shut out from the people’s use
by an exorbitant protective tariff. Remove this tariff and food would
have flooded in upon the people in boundless store and the corner
in Monopoly and Death have been crushed out of existence in a week.
Congress held the vested right to do whatsoever might be necessary for
the welfare or safety of the people and a ringing message, couched in
his old-time, fearless form, from this Chief Magistrate would have set
the people throughout the length and breadth of the land ablaze with
enthusiasm. It would have put him beyond the power of any clique or
party, and would have exalted him to the highest pinnacle of popular
idolatry as the man of the hour, the people’s choice! His party would
not have dared to say him nay, for individually and alone he would have
stood stronger than his party. It was an opportunity such as rarely
comes to a ruler. But the voice of the cautious counselors surrounding
him in his exalted station whispered in his ear: ‘You have been accused
of being too bold, as lacking in conservatism. Do not frighten, or
attack, the great money interests--those representing the sacred and
vested Rights of Capital--lest in their fear they turn and destroy
you!’ And he hearkened to this counsel. It is true, I believe, that a
measure was finally passed temporarily admitting foreign coal free of
tariff charge, but this measure came too late. The President’s brave
heart bled for the people, but his old-time fearlessness forsook him
and he failed them. And when he so failed them, the last hope of the
Republic went out. The Republic was doomed. The shadows of Plutocracy
and of Monarchy lowered over the land!”
“And the Monarchy which came was an improvement, you consider, upon the
Republic which preceded?” asked the Professor.
“At least in this respect,” answered the High President, “that under a
monarchy we may reasonably look for class distinction, for great wealth
on the one side and for great poverty on the other, but in a true
Republic, one worthy of the name, such distinction is as unnatural as
it is iniquitous.”
“Ah, now you are about to criticise the Monarchy, I suspect!” exclaimed
Mortimer. “But, pray tell me, is your Nihilism going to cure all these
evils you have portrayed?”
“You speak of Nihilism,” answered the High President gravely, “as if
it were the beginning and end of the entire programme. As a matter of
fact, Nihilism is only the beginning. As I have told you, we must first
wipe out existing institutions so that we may properly build up a new
Commonwealth, or Republic, founded upon the abolition of industrial
slavery, the brotherhood of man and the more equal apportionment of
benefits to the race.”
“But you spoke particularly of the evils of individual land ownership,”
persisted Mortimer. “Would you under your scheme do away with that?”
“I undoubtedly would,” answered the High President. “It seems to me a
proposition beyond argument that God created the land and all within
it for the benefit of mankind in general and not for the benefit of a
given few. The land should no more be owned individually than the air,
or the seas. It should be the property of all and inure to the benefit
of all--in a word, belong to the State. Those using land, either
urban or agricultural, should lease from the State and pay the rent
tribute to the State and the benefits of the land--created by God for
all--would thus inure to the benefit of all.”
“Would not this tend to accumulate,” suggested the Professor, “too
vast sums in the hands of the State--sums so vast that there would
constantly be a stringency of money and a consequent business
paralysis?”
“The answer to that,” replied the High President, “is that the State
could by magnificent public improvements and in a hundred other
ways find means of rapidly disposing of any such surplus it might
acquire. It could, if necessary, pay out dividends to its citizens,
as the big corporations do to their share-holders. This objection
you have advanced and a thousand others, will ever be urged to any
change looking to an improvement of things. The people thus opposing
will be found describing their opposition as Conservatism. The true
definition of a Conservatism is a man very well-off, who finds things
pre-eminently satisfactory for him as they are and is, therefore,
opposed to any change. Priestcraft, when it held communities and
nations under its subjection, the feudal barons, emperors, kings
and modern plutocrats--these, all these, you will find to have been
staunch advocates of Conservatism. Did you ever reflect,” continued
the High President, “upon the inequality and injustice of existing
laws of property ownership? When a man composes an opera, or indites
a book of poems, or writes a novel, or devises some new and useful
invention, he plays the part of a creator. Out of his own brain alone
that production has evolved. It did not exist before he gave it birth
and the world is so much the richer. If ever a man can be said to
have a proprietary right in anything, it is to that property which
actually was evolved from and created by himself alone. Yet, in the
case of an author, or composer, the Law protects him in that property
right for only twenty-eight years, and in the case of the inventor for
only seventeen years. After that, their respective productions pass
into the public domain--become public property. But the man who for a
mere trifle acquires a tract, or parcel, of land--which he certainly
had no part in creating or putting there--and holds it while a city
builds about him and the land is made valuable by the presence and
the efforts of the community at large--that man owns that land in
perpetuity; it is the property of him and his heirs forever. And the
Law itself! What a monstrous combination of illogical deduction and
of systematic injustice! The Law! Five years required to adjudicate a
case which would be sufficiently disposed of in as many hours under
any modern system of businesslike administration--the Law which can
only be invoked under conditions of expense absurdly disproportionate
to the results. Just think of a system which is supposed to adjudicate
and do substantial justice between man and man and yet which nine men
out of ten in the community will tell you means ruin to resort to! The
Law in its methods of procedure is a century, or more, behind the times
and the learned and time-honored profession of the Law is, in reality,
the profession of the modern highwayman. There is no form of modern
evil which more seriously demands the application of the principles of
Nihilism than the Law as it to-day exists!”
“And if your New Republic could be established,” asked Mortimer, “you
would be in favor of ruthlessly despoiling all the present land owners
of their holdings and escheating these holdings to the State?”
“That need not necessarily be done,” answered the High President.
“It would be no very difficult matter to assess the land at a fair
valuation and for the State to pay to the owners thereof a given
annual percentage for say fifty years to come, subject to certain
qualifications. This would result in eventually reimbursing to the
owners far more than they had originally expended and would give them
ample time to accommodate themselves to the new condition of things.
Of course, manifold objections, both technical and financial, will
be urged to the feasibility of this plan--especially by those with
tendencies to Conservatism--but I apprehend there are no obstacles
to its successful execution which cannot be overcome and it would
certainly be immeasurably superior to the present system. With public
franchises and the Nation’s land thus inuring to the benefit of the
whole people, the possibility of building up fortunes of two hundred
and three hundred millions, or even of eight or ten millions, would be
done away with. Surely this would be no misfortune!”
“But,” said the Professor, “I have heard the objection raised to plans
of this nature that their adoption would tend to lessen competitive
activity and deaden men’s energy and ambition generally.”
“The objection is ill-founded,” replied the High President. “If the
maximum which a man might hope to attain were fixed at one million, or
less, men would strive just as zealously for the fixed amount as they
would when the possibilities are unlimited. As it is now, money makes
money. It is not so much the billionaire himself who earns as the sheer
weight of money behind him which accomplishes. He is not called upon
to exercise any particular creative effort on his part and, worst of
all, he handicaps the efforts of others more worthy. In any event, the
guiding spirit of our New Republic will be the happiness and welfare
of the many, as against the particular interests and privileges of the
few.”
“You have compared the old-time Republic adversely with the existing
Monarchy,” said the Professor, with whom this seemed to be a sore
point, “yet from the little I have learned it seems to me that the
wrongs of the masses are as great under the monarchy as ever they were
under the Republic.”
“To what phase do you refer in particular?” asked the High President.
“To the matter of their general welfare,” replied the Professor. “For
instance, I understand that the coal supply is to be cornered this
winter and immeasurable want and suffering inflicted broadcast.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the High President quickly, “thank God that necessity
will be obviated!”
“Indeed! How so?”
“There have been new developments recently,” replied the High
President. “Matters have perfected themselves more rapidly than was
anticipated. There will be no necessity to wait until next winter. The
hour has come! The New Republic is at hand!”
“The New Republic is at hand!” repeated Mortimer, smiling. “Why,
you speak of this New Republic of yours almost as if it were an
accomplished fact!”
“So nearly an accomplished fact,” replied the High President, “that
within ten days it will be here!”
The words were uttered gravely and impressively. They carried a strange
conviction.
For a moment Mortimer sat silent, staring at the speaker. Then he
leaned forward in his chair.
“And the King--the existing form of government!” he exclaimed.
“A thing of the past--overthrown!”
“This is preposterous!” cried Mortimer, a wave of anger flushing his
brow. “I see you surrounded by certain evidences of preparation and
power, otherwise your words would seem to me but idle vaporings.
I believe that you are engaged in an armed conspiracy against the
government, but that it will be successful I do not for an instant
believe. And,” he added with biting sarcasm, as his anger rose, “it is
indeed typical of the strength and character of your organization when
its admitted head does not dare to discourse sedition and treason in
the presence of an officer of the King save in closest concealment and
with masked face!”
The High President started slightly; then proudly raised his head:
“My life is of value, not so much to me, as to the cause I serve,”
he said. “In all movements of this character certain precautions
are essential. But the hour of precaution is well-nigh past and is
certainly no longer needed with you whom we safely hold in our keeping.
I came to you thus disguised, because I desired to speak to you simply
as the head of this organization. I deemed it best, until I had secured
your decision on a matter I shall present to you soon. But since this
mask is made the means of a taunt to our organization, I will remove it
and meet you man to man.”
As the High President ceased speaking, he raised his hands to the mask
and rapidly loosened the strings.
Suddenly the obscuring mists rolled aside from the Professor’s brain,
and before the mask had fairly been removed from the High President’s
features, he sprang to his feet with the cry:
“General Mainwarren!”
CHAPTER IV
UNFOLDING THE PLAN
Silence from all three succeeded for a few moments the Professor’s
startled exclamation. Then the High President spoke.
“Now,” he said, turning to Mortimer, “now that I have removed the
source of your reproach, I trust you will give weight and credence to
my words.”
“General,” answered Mortimer, “your great military record, and your
eminence as one of the financial powers of the land, are known to me
as they are to the rest of the world. Your words must, therefore, have
due weight with me, but I must admit, speaking frankly, not credence.
Were almost any other to speak so, I should regard him as either a
loose-brained visionary, or else one seeking to deceive. With you, I
realize that neither is the case, but I cannot help considering that
you are seriously mistaken.”
“It is precisely to show you I am right that I am here,” replied the
High President.
“I’m much flattered,” said Mortimer, “although I fail to see why you
should be at any pains on that point.”
“Never mind that for the moment,” answered the High President. “You
will learn the reason before our interview closes.”
Mortimer bowed.
“I will begin by explaining to you,” said the High President, “that
this movement had its origin many years ago--in fact, it began almost
immediately after the Monarchy was first inaugurated. It began not
with a united, organized body as we are to-day, but in a number of
scattered, disunited elements possessed of widely divergent aims
and objects. There were those who were opposed to the monarchical
institution and who desired the return of the former Republic; there
were others--and these were by far the larger and more important
body--who were profoundly dissatisfied with the existing economic
conditions and who eagerly, if vaguely, aspired to a change of some
kind. There was but one common chord uniting these various elements;
all were dissatisfied and all were more or less revolutionary. For a
period I studied the problem of how to fuse these various scattered
elements and the problem seemed so difficult that I was for a time
in despair. It was just at that period that by a strange turn of
Fate--or by the interposition of Divine Providence, as some may piously
believe--that I found myself in a position of commanding financial
power. From that day on the road grew easier for me. From that day on,
I vowed to dedicate my life to raising my countrymen to a higher plane
of liberty and happiness than the world had yet known. Washington had
led them to freedom from the bondage of political tyranny; I would seek
to free them from the far more bitter tyranny of economic bondage. To
that cause, I have through the years devoted my fortune, my energies
and my work. To that cause I am prepared, if need be, to lay down my
life.”
“A noble ideal, indeed!” exclaimed the Professor enthusiastically. “I
admire and respect you for it.”
“I appreciate the spirit which has animated you, General,” said
Mortimer, “although I dissent from some of the methods you may have
adopted in its execution.”
“My first care,” said the High President, disregarding the
interruption, “was to look about me for some means of unifying the
various scattered elements of political and economic discontent. This
I soon perceived could not be quickly done. It was a question of
time, and above all, of education. By education, I mean teaching the
individual members of the different elements precisely what were the
causes of their unhappiness and discontent, wherein the true remedies
lay and just what were the conditions they must seek to attain. To this
end I carefully trained a corps of instructors, men and women. These
people preached no sedition; they advocated no revolutionary movement.
They simply taught a new form of interesting political economy, showing
people why they suffered and where lay the remedy. I had not so much
interest or concern for the great mass of those forming the existing
army of discontent. They were mostly too set in their own old ideas and
aims, although even among these were found some good material. My chief
attention was given to the rising generation. Youth is easily taught
and the impressions of youth are usually vivid and lasting. It was to
the youth of the land we turned and the results exceeded the highest
expectations. Before long there were great bodies of men throughout
the country--men eager and bold with the intensity of youth--who were
filled not with the vague, shadowy ideas of the political partisan, but
with a clear knowledge of economics. And it was to the women of the
country--to the mothers, the wives and the sisters--that we owed this
most largely--a plan which I once had the pleasure of suggesting to you
as applicable to your day, Professor Dean.”
“Ah, yes,” exclaimed the Professor, “but little did I think you had
actually put it into practical execution.”
“Well, I had,” answered the High President dryly. “While this work of
education was going on I was doing everything in my power to render the
general conditions hard as possible for the masses. It was a curious
dual rôle I filled. With my entire being pledged to their ultimate
upraising and welfare, I was temporarily inflicting upon them terrible
hardship and suffering. By many I was regarded as a monster in human
form; even the Court and the Chancellerie protested against what seemed
to be my insatiable exactions--protested not because of the widespread
misery and suffering inflicted, but because of the dangerous spirit of
public discontent engendered. Ah, little they suspected that it was
precisely this dangerous spirit of discontent which I sought to foster
and to feed, for it is through the suffering and the misery of the
people that the spirit is awakened which leads to great changes. In the
light of this explanation, Professor, you will now understand the true
meaning of the proposed corner in coal which so aroused your horror and
indignation.”
“Ah, I see it all now!” exclaimed the Professor.
“Thank heaven, there will now be no necessity for that measure and the
awful misery and suffering it would have entailed,” continued the High
President. “But I will pass from that painful subject. In addition to
the education of the people and to tuning the public spirit to the
proper pitch of discontent and revolt by purposely imposed hardship and
misery, I was busy with one other important subject. Governments and
existing conditions may eventually be overthrown by education and the
sentiment of the masses, but they cannot be thus directly overthrown.
Governments and existing conditions are backed, supported and held
in power by force, which is really the first and last word in the
affairs of this world. Education as to cause, effect and remedy and
the fostering of the necessary sentiment and spirit among the masses
were well enough by way of general introductory processes, but if the
overthrow of the monarchy and the establishment of a new order of
things was to be looked for, some means must be found of successfully
overcoming the resistance of the armed forces of the King and of the
Government. Do you follow me?”
“Very clearly,” replied Dean, while Mortimer nodded a silent assent.
“As a soldier trained by practical experience in the art of war,”
continued the High President, “I realized how utterly futile it must be
to attempt to arm, drill and organize a sufficient force of men to hope
to successfully cope in open warfare with the trained soldiers of the
King. To achieve successfully any such result, I must discover a new
means of warfare which would give my attacking force some immeasurable
advantage over our opponents. Not an easy problem to work out, eh,
Captain Mortimer?”
“Decidedly not,” replied Mortimer with evident interest.
“As you are perhaps aware,” resumed the High President, “among the
different great business interests to which I came into possession
were several which involved various manufacturing processes. Among
the many employes in my shops was a wild, apparently half-crazy sort
of fellow who was, however, exceedingly clever as an inventor and who
had already devised several really very ingenious and meritorious
inventions. The man’s first name was Nicholas; we will suppress for
the present his last name. He was American born, but originally
of Polish origin and his forefathers had all, I understand, been
inventors. This erratic fellow came to me one day. He had come across
some old-time pamphlets or treatises in the library upon the subject
of aërial navigation. There was one treatise by a certain Professor
Dean which seemed to attract his interest strongly. He was full of
the project and wanted to pursue an extended line of investigation of
aërial navigation. I confess I listened with scant interest. The field
seemed to me an unprofitable one commercially, for I could not see what
practical benefit from a transportation standpoint would be gained by
aërial navigation. It was doubtless for this very reason, I argued to
myself, that the subject had thus far not been more fully taken up and
advanced. Nicholas, however, was evidently not easily to be discouraged
and I regarded his enthusiasm as a species of misfortune. Here was one
of my valuable men off on a tangent and the result could only be that
I would be a loser of his best efforts. However, I did not abruptly
refuse Nicholas, but out of consideration for his feelings promised to
give the matter some further thought.”
“Ah,” exclaimed the Professor, “how history repeats itself! It was
always my experience whenever I approached men of position and power on
that very subject to meet with discouragement and doubt.”
“Listen to the sequel,” said the High President. “That night I walked
in my grounds. It was a rarely beautiful night, with a high, clear sky
and a bright, full moon. My mind was occupied with its still unsolved
problem. I looked up to the heavens above me, as if to seek there
inspiration and light. Suddenly the thought flashed into my mind: What
if an attack could be delivered from the skies above--from the very
heavens themselves! Such an attacking force would be absolutely safe
from attack itself, while by dropping high explosives upon any enemy
below it could inflict untold devastation. Then Nicholas came into my
mind.”
“But such form of attack is expressly forbidden by the rules of
international warfare!” exclaimed Mortimer.
“I am aware of that,” answered the High President, “but the rules of
international warfare do not apply to revolutions by a people against
their government.”
“I suppose not,” admitted Mortimer grudgingly.
“The next morning I sent for Nicholas,” said the High President. “He
found a much changed man. It will be needless for me to recount to you
the ten thousand and one details in connection with the perfecting
of our plans; our secret work of invention, our secret processes of
manufacture, our secret places of trial and concealment of finished
machines. Take, for instance, where we now are. We have here quite an
extensive strip of territory, in a wild, little frequented region. It
is held as private property. In the heart of this territory is this
valley shut in on all sides by mountain heights--and it affords us
ample opportunity of carrying on such work as may be necessary, quite
safe from observation. On every side our men are out in the guise of
keepers, carefully guarding every avenue of approach against possible
chance of intrusion. Similar strips of territory and similar retreats
we hold in various other parts of the country, for our plans are far
too carefully laid for us to trust all our eggs to one basket. Let it
be enough for me to say that everything has thus far progressed most
satisfactorily and that we have to-day concealed in various places, all
finished and ready for use, a sufficient number of air-ships, large
and small, to carry out our plans. All this has been done with such
well-managed quietude and secrecy that not the slightest inkling has
the government of the true state of affairs. You will now understand,
Professor Dean, what I meant the day I remarked to you that your
investigations in the line of aërial navigation were more important
to the world than you dreamed of. You will also understand why it was
that I was so desirous of inducing you to leave the Court and come
to me to pursue your further work in that direction. It was not that
I really needed you to develop air-ships, for that had already been
accomplished; but I feared you might produce them for the benefit of
the government. Such possible production was to us the most serious
menace to our course, as you will doubtless realize.”
“Yes; now that I understand all the circumstances,” answered the
Professor, “I see that very clearly.”
“As it was,” said the High President, “you certainly sprang your
air-ship upon us with remarkable rapidity. I congratulate you upon your
work and ourselves upon the fact that we have succeeded in capturing
you and your ship before you had gone further. You can imagine the
surprise to our fellows when they hailed and discovered that they were
being pursued by a Royal air-ship. They are indeed to be commended for
the discretion and skill with which they acted.”
“In what respect?” asked the Professor.
“They had a machine on board,” answered the High President, “which
would have blown you to atoms, had they so desired, or they could have
clapped on speed and have escaped you. Had they been fools, they would
have done one or the other. Being sensible men, they did neither. They
simply regulated their speed so as to lure you on and thus lead to
your capture. You see, it was desirable to ascertain as much about you
as possible and learn how grave a peril to us your presence signified.”
“That accounts for the peculiar movements I noticed during our
pursuit,” remarked the Professor.
“Doubtless,” replied the High President. “Well, I am truly thankful
they kept their wits and acted as they did. I am glad they did not
allow you to escape and I am even more glad they did not resort to
the other course. I abhor any unnecessary shedding of blood and I am
grateful to Providence that our operations that night cost, at most,
only one life. I may say to you that the life of the King has been
repeatedly in our hands during our various visitations, but not one
hair of his head has been injured.”
“What was the object of these visitations?” asked the Professor
curiously.
“To satisfy fully the scruples of some of the more conscientious among
the leaders,” answered the High President. “The present King had shown
himself to be a more just and mild-mannered ruler than his predecessor
and they thought he should be accorded the saving chances of reform
and abdication. I was opposed to the plan as affording little prospect
of practical results, but yielded so as to satisfy the consciences of
these men--so that when the time came to strike they could feel that we
had done so only after no other course was left.”
“I see--I understand,” said the Professor thoughtfully.
“And now,” said the High President, “all is prepared. The air-ships
are ready and their crews drilled to their work. We have in addition
a sufficiently large number of men trained to act as an auxiliary
land force to follow up at the right moment the devastating work of
the air-ships. The officers pin a gold star, the men a white star--the
Star of Hope--to their left shoulders and in an instant you have a
force sufficiently recognizable for our purposes. Should any body of
men be compelled to retreat, they scatter, off with the star from the
shoulder, and in an instant are re-converted into ordinary citizens.
Conceive a body of men in a number of mobiles, so built as to be
protected from ordinary rifle fire, and, hovering in the distance,
awaiting the moment, a scattered mass of men on foot. These latter
carry only concealed arms, and are apparently noncombatants. Imagine
the men in the mobiles opening an attack upon a royal regiment, or
other hostile body. The royal troops advance to the attack and the
men in the mobiles begin to retreat. Then, from the heavens above,
the air-ships, themselves unassailable, open their attack and hurl
down high explosives upon the advancing troops. What becomes of the
regiment? In a few moments it is decimated--annihilated! All that
remains is for the men in the motors and the scattered footmen in the
distance to sweep down upon the scene and take charge of the dead, the
dying and the prisoners. The same way in attacking a fort, or royal
palace. Our air-ships would hover high above and, themselves beyond the
reach of rifles, or of cannon, pursue their attack until the work of
demolition was complete. As a military man, Captain Mortimer, I ask you
how can such an attack be successfully resisted?”
“Are your air-ships rifle proof?” asked Mortimer.
“Perfectly so from all sides,” answered the High President; “but even
if they were not, it would be an easy matter for them to keep beyond
range.”
“Quite so; and they could, of course, still be able to direct the
explosives hurled with sufficient accuracy?”
“Absolutely,” replied the High President. “I ask you again how can such
a form of attack be resisted?”
Mortimer hesitated a moment before replying.
“It is obvious,” he said at length, “that if one thousand riflemen
are attacked in the manner you describe by one hundred of an enemy
whom they cannot by any possibility reach or inflict any punishment
whatsoever upon, the one thousand men must necessarily succumb to the
one hundred. In the case of artillery, the artillerymen would be no
better off, for if their enemy were lodged directly above, heavy guns
could not be raised to a sufficient pitch to bring the enemy within
range. These propositions are so simple that, I take it, there is no
disputing them.”
“And as to a fort?” asked the High President.
“Substantially the same principles must apply,” answered Mortimer.
“The government’s warships,” continued the High President, “are
scattered over the various seas. But let us assume that a number of
them were concentrated in Atlantic waters. Could a ship of the sea do
successful battle with a ship of the air, hovering directly above her
and raining death and destruction down upon her decks? I ask you, what
chance would a ship of the sea have?”
“A warship,” answered Mortimer with impatience, “could, of course, not
elevate her guns so as to bring within range anything immediately above
her.”
“Then,” exclaimed the High President triumphantly, “I am pleased to
find that our minds are in accord on at least some important points and
we can now, perhaps, come to an understanding.”
“I don’t fully catch your meaning,” said Mortimer.
“You don’t suppose,” answered the High President, “that I have held
this interview with you and disclosed our position so thoroughly simply
for the purpose of discussing political economy, or questions of
military tactics?”
“Perhaps not,” said Mortimer. “I await the explanation of your purpose.”
“It is this,” replied the High President. “I sought first to show
you the merit and justice of our cause, and next, our certitude of
success. You, Captain Mortimer, with your military experience, and you,
Professor Dean, with your scientific attainments, would be valuable
additions to our ranks--not so much for the first attack, for all the
details of that first attack are already mapped out and settled; but
for the subsequent work of organization and handling great masses of
men which must necessarily follow our preliminary successes. We shall
first attack the palace and almost simultaneously the city of New York.
We shall seize upon the persons of the King and the officers of the
Government. This preliminary success and demonstration of our power
will be accompanied by uprisings all over the East, followed a little
later by similar movements in the West and the South. How could you
lend your aid to a nobler work than the uplifting of your countrymen
in particular and of mankind in general--how engage in a more truly
patriotic task! I invite you--I beg you--to aid in this cause--to join
our ranks.”
The High President paused, with eager eyes turned upon his auditors.
For some moments they sat in silence.
“I await your answer,” said the High President, turning his gaze
directly upon Mortimer.
For yet a moment Mortimer sat speechless. At last he spoke.
“General Mainwarren,” he said, “I don’t doubt the high impulses and
sentiments which direct your action, otherwise your words would
convey to me the grossest insult. Understanding these impulses and
sentiments as I do, I can accept your words in the spirit in which
they are intended. But, sir, remember that I wear the uniform of an
American army officer. That uniform, so far as is known, has never
covered but one traitor and the world-wide obloquy and contempt which
in his own period and through succeeding generations has followed the
name of Benedict Arnold, should be a sufficient example and lesson
for prospective traitors in all generations to come. The function of
an army officer is not to delve in social economics, or meddle with
political questions. He must leave these matters to others. His duty
is to uphold the government of the country and to forever stand ready
to defend and die for, if needs be, the interests and the honor of his
country and his flag. Such are the views I hold, General Mainwarren,
and--you have my answer.”
The High President, in turn, paused before making reply.
“I, too,” he said at length, “understand and appreciate the sentiments
which dictate your answer. I do not consider that these sentiments are
correct from the highest and broadest standpoint of patriotism and
human effort, but the answer, such as it is, I must accept, much as I
regret it. And you,” he added, turning to Professor Dean; “what is
your decision?”
The Professor answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“I am,” he said, “more in touch and sympathy with your project and your
aims than Captain Mortimer is, or could be expected to be. Had you
depicted to me those projects and described to me those aims on the day
we first met, my answer might have been different from that which it
now must be. As it is, I have embarked in this joint enterprise with
my friend, Captain Mortimer, and I should regard myself as playing
the rôle of traitor which he so severely contemns were I now to fail
him. I shall stand shoulder to shoulder with Captain Mortimer in this
enterprise, at least, to the very end.”
The High President rose and extended his hand.
“Re-meeting!” he exclaimed. “My mission here has failed. There is
nothing more to be said.”
He moved toward the door. Dean called after him.
“One moment,” he cried; “there is a question I would ask. You spoke
just now of blood having been spilled the night of the chase. What
did you mean? Was there some mishap which happened to those we were
pursuing? I saw no accident.”
“No,” answered the High President, pausing, “no accident occurred to
any of those you were following. It was at the palace.”
“At the palace! What do you mean?”
“According to the report made me,” continued the High President, “it
came about in this way. Our men in the air-ship were preparing to
approach the window of the King’s chamber, but prior to doing so were
scouting around the immediate neighborhood to ascertain if the coast
was clear.”
“Yes, yes,” exclaimed Dean, “we noticed that!”
“Next to the King’s chamber was a room with open windows,” went on the
High President, “occupied, as they knew, by an officer on guard. Either
an air current must have affected the air-ship which was at the moment
almost motionless, or the steersman made some slight miscalculation,
for they suddenly drifted in too close to the room. Our men suddenly
saw an officer in full uniform spring forward and peer out. It looked
as if he had caught sight of them and was about to give an alarm.
Instantly, one of our men fired. The officer was seen to stagger back
and, without groan or cry, he fell!”
With a cry of rage and pain, as of some wounded animal, Mortimer
clenched his hands and began pacing the floor, in deep agitation.
“But how can this be!” exclaimed Dean. “We were close at hand and we
heard no sound--no shot!”
“You forget,” replied the High President indulgently, “that most of our
firearms to-day are noiseless as well as smokeless.”
“My God--my God!” exclaimed Mortimer, still pacing the floor, “that
officer was Ralph--my comrade and friend, Captain Swords. Tell me, did
that shot kill?”
“That is not known,” replied the High President. “After the shot, our
men hovered around, peering into the lighted room and prepared to flee
at the slightest sign of an alarm. But no sign of such alarm appeared.
The officer’s fall upon the heavy carpet appeared to have been unheard,
for no one came to the room and he lay there motionless. Our men then
passed on to their work at the King’s window, when you appeared a
moment later upon the scene. You know the rest.”
“To think that he is lying wounded, perhaps dead, and I here--a
prisoner!” muttered Mortimer fiercely.
“The fortunes of war,” replied the High President coldly. “What is one
life in such a struggle? Alas! think of the many, many lives which must
be sacrificed before this contest closes. As to your imprisonment, I am
willing to give you the freedom of this entire valley upon your parole
not to leave it, or to attempt any communication whatsoever with the
outside.”
“I refuse such parole,” answered Mortimer curtly.
“And you, Professor Dean?”
“I follow Captain Mortimer’s lead absolutely.”
“Very well,” answered the High President, “prisoners you must then
remain. But console yourselves with the thought that it will not be for
long. Ten days from to-day the signal to attack will flash forth--in
ten days from to-day the new era will have dawned and your freedom will
be near at hand. Look forward to your liberation--as tens upon tens
of millions are awaiting their liberation--to the birth of the New
Republic!”
He sprang up the steps and called to the sentinel without. The door was
hurriedly thrown open and an instant later he was gone.
CHAPTER V
A STRANGE MESSAGE
The days passed. Captain Mortimer sat with bowed head and heavy brow,
resisting Valerie’s archest smiles and brightest sallies. The fine
appetite he had displayed on the occasion of the first breakfast had
deserted him and Valerie’s choicest dishes went back practically
untouched. Was there anything she could get for him? No; nothing. Was
there anything special he would like prepared? No; absolutely nothing.
To all her questions only the same brief, though polite, negatives.
Valerie was in despair.
Alone with Dean, the one topic was escape. They had again carefully
examined the cabin. There were two portholes on each side--too small
to permit of the egress of even a boy’s body--and the floors, walls
and ceilings were certainly too strongly constructed to be open to
successful attack by men whose only tools were two pocket knives and a
sword. Evidently their only possible chance was by the door.
To the door, then, they turned their attention. It was too strong to
give way to any sudden onslaught and any extended work upon it would
certainly be heard by the sentinel outside. Besides, the Professor
pointed out, even if they did succeed in breaking through and getting
past the sentry, they would doubtless be quickly surrounded and
overpowered by the other men of the camp.
“It’s probably true,” Mortimer replied. “But I intend to make an
attempt at all hazards. It’s better to die in the valley outside, after
a good hot fight, than to perish heart-broken, cooped up here.”
Then began a search for methods by which they could get past the door
and reach the sentinel outside.
“Why not lie in wait at the door,” suggested the Professor, “and when
the food is brought in we can make one spirited dash?”
“No, that won’t do,” Mortimer said. “It is Valerie who brings the food;
we can’t treat her so.”
They discussed a plan whereby one of them was to feign illness and ask
for a doctor, or other medical assistance; but it was repugnant to them
both to seek advantage in any form over one who came on an ostensible
errand of mercy.
They at last hit upon the much simpler expedient of sending a message
demanding to see the man in command. Henry, with his brutal directness,
would probably jump at the conclusion that they sought some concession,
or had some terms to propose. With him they would have no scruples.
Accordingly, when Valerie brought in the dinner on the fourth day
following the visit of the High President, the Professor broached the
subject.
“My dear Miss Robert--” he began.
“Call me Valerie. Everybody does here. It’s so much simpler,” said the
girl, as she busied herself with the table.
“Ah, yes; certainly. My dear Miss Valerie--”
“Simply Valerie; or you may say ‘dear Valerie,’ if you like,” replied
the girl, archly.
“Well--ah--Valerie, then!” stammered the Professor, “would you mind
conveying a message for us, or, to speak more accurately, I should say
causing a message to be conveyed for us, since we would prefer--and
you will no doubt know how to manage this--that such message should not
come from either yourself or your father. Perhaps, I might suggest, you
could so contrive as to enable us to send it by one of the sentinels
outside this door?”
The girl glanced at the Professor curiously.
“What is the message?” she asked.
“That we demand to see the person in command here--Colonel Henry, I
believe.”
“Oh! won’t father do?”
“No, no; not at all! We want to see the one in chief command.”
“Any complaint as to the cooking or the service?” asked the girl pertly.
“Really, Miss----”
“Valerie!”
“You embarrass me.”
“I love to do that!”
“But you will grant what we ask?”
“I’ll see about it and let you know to-morrow,” she replied, as she
started for the door.
The following morning at breakfast they again questioned her. She had
not yet had an opportunity to attend to the matter. At mid-day the same
answer, but a promise that they should have word at the next meal.
The next meal came and with it Valerie. The captives felt their hearts
sink at her first words. Colonel Henry would not see them.
“What was it he said when our message was given him?” asked Mortimer,
“and by whom was it given?”
Valerie hesitated in a manner very unusual to her before replying. Then
she broke out impetuously:
“He did not say anything, because the message wasn’t carried. It
would have been useless. Papa tells me that the High President gave
imperative orders that Colonel Henry was not to deal in any way with
you. You are held subject to the orders of the High President himself.”
“Why didn’t you send the message anyhow?” demanded Mortimer, a bit
impatiently. “Colonel Henry might decide to see us--you can’t tell. You
don’t realize how important it is that we see him.”
She did not answer these reproaches for some moments. Then suddenly she
turned upon Mortimer.
“Even if the High President hadn’t given such orders, do you think I
would bring you and ‘Black Hawk’ Henry face to face after what has
happened? Colonel Henry is furious. You throttled him before his men
and on top of that he was severely reprimanded by the High President
for his treatment of prisoners.”
“How about the insult to me--the cause of it all?” Mortimer asked.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she answered, “but I’m not so
foolish as to bring burning oil and gunpowder together! Won’t father do
as well?” she asked in conclusion.
“No!” Mortimer hastened to answer.
“Will anybody else?”
“Oh, yes; anybody else will do, if he doesn’t come direct from Captain
Robert,” Mortimer assured her.
“I don’t see how it can be managed,” she said.
For a moment they were both in despair. Then Mortimer spoke up.
“You’ve been very kind to us,” he began, “and we’re indebted to you for
many favors. Believe me, we both of us appreciate and are grateful to
you from the bottom of our hearts.”
A deepening tinge of color crept into the girl’s face, as she looked
up at him with smiling eyes, her white teeth showing between her full,
red lips.
“We have one more favor to ask of you,” he continued, “a rather
peculiar favor and one which, I trust, you won’t misunderstand. Should
you decide to grant it, you must do so blindly, without asking a single
question as to the why or wherefore.”
“What is it?” asked the girl eagerly.
“Just this: that to-morrow one of our meals shall not be brought by you
and that you will let us know in advance which of those meals it is to
be.”
The girl’s head dropped and the color paled from her face. For a moment
she said nothing. Then she looked up.
“The dinner is ready,” she said. “Why don’t you eat?”
“I can’t eat to-night,” answered Mortimer impatiently.
“It’s horrible to see you pining away in this fashion,” said the girl.
“You’ll die if this keeps up.”
“Men don’t die so easily,” replied Mortimer, with a short laugh. “But
you haven’t answered what I asked you.”
She hesitated for a moment.
“Do nothing--make no attempt of any kind to-day,” she cried with sudden
vehemence. “Wait until to-morrow! To-morrow I’ll bring you good news!”
And with these words she turned quickly and fled up the steps.
At breakfast time next morning she lingered in the cabin longer than
usual. To Mortimer’s questioning glance, she returned for answer the
single word: “Wait!”
At mid-day she appeared, bearing her tray as usual, but when she began
to unload it they noticed skilfully concealed among the dishes, two
small coils of rope. Her cheeks were flushed and here was an unwonted
agitation in her manner.
“You wouldn’t eat my food,” she said, “so I’ve brought you something
which will be more welcome.” And she touched one of the coils of rope
lightly with her finger.
“Won’t you speak more plainly?” exclaimed the Professor, with evident
excitement.
“My meaning!” retorted the girl, with impatience. “What do you suppose
I mean except--your escape. Do you think I am both blind and stupid!
Do you think I haven’t seen how you,” and she glanced toward Mortimer,
“have been eating your hearts out here? Do you imagine I didn’t guess
your meaning when you wanted the ‘Black Hawk’ to come to you, or when
you wanted me to keep away? Valerie was bright enough to understand the
meaning of that!”
“We certainly didn’t mean to reflect upon your intelligence,” replied
the Professor. “We only hoped you would close your eyes sufficiently to
aid us in our plans.”
“There’s a big move of some kind about to take place here,” said
Valerie, “and it wouldn’t astonish me if father were ordered away
at any moment. Now, I’m not going to take any chance of leaving you
here at the mercy of the ‘Black Hawk.’ He’d kill you at the first
chance--he’s quite capable of it. So I’ll help you in any way to get
off.”
“We thank you heartily,” answered the Professor. “But what’s your plan?”
“Listen!” said Valerie. “All the men in camp here have gone off to
Minden Plains, which are back of Pedisgill Hill, to practise some
special manœuver--all except the man at the door here, and five men
who are at work in Big Bear Gap, which is almost at the other end of
the valley. They are at work on some air-ships there and the ‘Black
Hawk’ is keeping an eye over them.”
“Yes, yes,” assented the Professor, “but how are we going to get out of
here?”
“When I next return,” said Valerie, “you will seize and bind me
securely with one of these cords, which for all anybody will know you
found by ransacking the cabin.”
“But how shall we deal with the sentry outside?” questioned the
Professor.
“Oh, that will be simple enough,” replied Valerie. “Jack is on guard
and Jack will do anything I say, even though it were to send a bullet
through the ‘Black Hawk’ himself. After you have secured me, you will
give three light taps upon the door. Jack won’t be very much surprised
when he opens the door if you suddenly pounce upon him and secure him
in the same way that you do me. You are two to one and his capture
need not create suspicion. He will struggle, of course, just to keep
up appearances, but don’t hurt the poor boy, since he is really our
friend.”
“I don’t like the plan,” broke in Mortimer, speaking for the first
time, “since it involves violence--or rather the appearance of
violence--to you. I would much rather you were not mixed up in
this--much rather that it were managed by that fellow Henry coming
here, or someone else.”
“Don’t be silly!” exclaimed Valerie. “It’s the kindest thing you can do
for me, since it will serve to divert suspicion far more than any other
plan.”
“Still, I don’t like it,” retorted Mortimer obstinately. “I would give
almost anything I possess to escape from here, but I don’t like your
being involved.”
“I’m bound,” said Valerie, determinedly, “that you shall not remain
behind at the mercy of the ‘Black Hawk.’ You’ve got to escape. But,”
she added, her manner softening, “you’ll promise me that after you are
safely away, you will never bring anything here that will do injury to
me or mine--to the men of this camp?”
“Should I ever succeed in escaping,” answered Mortimer solemnly, “I’ll
promise never to disclose the situation of this valley, or to lead, or
direct, any attacking force here. More than this I can’t promise.”
“It is enough,” said Valerie. “And you?” she asked, turning to Dean.
“I hold myself bound by the same promise as that given by Captain
Mortimer,” he replied.