sounded outside, and the huge door flew open, and without a word in
reply, glad of my deliverance, I turned and fled precipitately through
it. The sumptuous guard stood outside to receive me, and as the door
closed behind me the band struck up a swelling measure that I shall
not soon forget.
"Well," said the Major Domo, as we proceeded back to my quarters, "did
he receive you nicely?"
"Who?" said I.
"Jupiter, of course," he said.
"I didn't see him," I replied, sadly. "I fell in with a beastly old
bore who wouldn't let go of me. You showed me into the wrong room. Who
was that old beggar, anyhow?"
"Beggar?" he cried. "Wrong room? Beggar?"
"Certainly," said I. "Beggar is mild, I admit. But he's all that and
much more. Who is he?"
"I don't know what you mean," replied the Major Domo. "But you have
been for the last hour with his Majesty himself."
"What?" I cried. "I--that old man--we--"
"The old gentleman was Jupiter. Didn't he tell you? He made a special
effort to make you feel at home--put himself on a purely mortal
basis--"
I fell back, limp and nerveless.
"What will he think of me?" I moaned, as I realized what had
happened.
[Illustration: "'WHAT?' I CRIED. 'I--THAT OLD MAN--WE'"]
"He thinks you are the best yet," said the Major Domo. "He has sent
word by his messenger, Mercury, that the honors of Olympus are to be
showered upon you to their fullest extent. He says you are the only
frank mortal he ever met."
And with this I was escorted back to my rooms at the hotel, impressed
with the idea that all is not lead that doesn't glitter, and when I
thought of my invention of the word "stult," I began to wish I had
never been born.
XI
A Royal Outing
As may be imagined after my untoward interview with Jupiter, the state
of my mind was far from easy. It is not pleasant to realize that you
have applied every known epithet of contempt to a god who has an
off-hand way of disposing of his enemies by turning them into
apple-trees, or dumb beasts of one kind or another, and upon retiring
to my room I sat down and waited in great dread of what should happen
next. I couldn't really believe that the Major Domo's statement as to
my having been forgiven was possible. It predicated too great a
magnanimity to be credible.
"I hope to gracious he won't make a pine-tree of me," I groaned,
visions of a future in which woodmen armed with axes, and sawmills,
played a conspicuous part, rising up before me. "I'd hate like time to
be sawed up into planks and turned into a Georgia pine floor
somewhere."
It was a painful line of thought and I strove to get away from it, but
without success, although the variations were interesting when I
thought of all the things I might be made into, such as kitchen
tables, imitation oak bookcases, or perhaps--horror of horrors--a
bundle of toothpicks! I was growing frantic with fear, when on a
sudden my reveries of dread were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"It has come at last!" I said, and I opened the door, nerving myself
up to sustain the blow which I believed was impending. Mercury stood
without, flapping the wings that sprouted from his ankles impatiently.
"The skitomobile is ready, sir," he said.
I gazed at him earnestly.
"The what?"
"The skitomobile, to take you to the links. Jupiter has already gone
on ahead, and he has commanded me to follow, bringing you along with
me."
"Oh--I'm to go to the links, eh? What's he going to do with me when he
gets me there? Turn me into a golf-ball and drive me off into space?"
I inquired.
My heart sank at the very idea, but I was immediately reassured by
Mercury's hearty laugh.
"Of course not--why should he? He's going to play you an
eighteen-hole match. You've made a great impression on the old
gentleman."
"Thank Heaven!" I said. "I'll hurry along and join him before he
changes his mind."
In a brief while I was ready, and, escorted by Mercury, I was taken to
the skitomobile which stood at the exit from the hall to the outer
roadway nearest my room. Seated in front of this, and acting as
chauffeur, was a young man whom I recognized at once as Phaeton.
Alongside of him sat Jason, polishing up the most beautiful set of
golf-clubs I ever saw. The irons were of wrought gold, and the shafts
of the most highly polished and exquisite woods.
"To the links," said Mercury, and with a sudden chug-chug, and a jerk
which nearly threw me out of the conveyance, we were off. And what a
ride it was! At first the sensation was that of falling, and I
clutched nervously at the sides of the skitomobile, but by slow
degrees I got used to it, and enjoyed one of the most exhilarating
hours that has ever entered into my experience.
Planet after planet was passed as we sped on and on upward, and as my
delight grew I gave utterance to it.
"Jove! But this is fine!" I said. "I never knew anything like it,
except looping the loop."
Phaeton grinned broadly and winked at Jason.
"How would you like to loop the loop out here?" the latter asked.
"What? In a machine like this?" I cried.
"Certainly," said Jason. "It's great sport. Give him the twist,
Phaeton."
I began to grow anxious again, for I recalled the past careless
methods of Phaeton, and I had no wish to go looping the loop through
the empyrean with one of his known adventurous disposition, to be
hurled unceremoniously sooner or later perhaps into the sun itself.
"Perhaps we'd better leave it until some other day," I ventured,
timidly.
"No time like the present," Jason retorted. "Only hang on to yourself.
All ready, Phaety!"
The chauffeur grasped the lever, and, turning it swiftly to one side,
there in the blue vault of heaven, a thousand miles from anywhere,
that machine began executing the most remarkable flip-flaps the mind
of man ever conceived. Not once or twice, but a hundred times did we
go whirling round and round through the skies, until finally I got so
that I could not tell if I were right side up or upside down. It was
great sport, however, and but for the fact that on the third trial I
lost my grip and would have fallen head over heels through space had
not Mercury, who was flying alongside of the machine, swooped down and
caught me by the leg as I fell out, I found it as exhilarating as it
was novel. I could have kept it up forever, had we not shortly hove in
sight of the links, which, as I have already told you, were located on
the planet Mars; and such gorgeousness as I there encountered was
unparalleled on earth. Much that we earth-folk have wondered at became
clear at once. The great canals, as we call them, for instance, turned
out to be vast sand-bunkers that glistened like broad rivers of silver
in the wondrous sheen of the planet, while the dark greenish spots,
concerning which our astronomers have speculated so variously, were
nothing more nor less than putting-greens. It is extraordinary that
until my visit to the planet as the guest of Jupiter, this perfectly
simple solution of the various Martian problems was not even guessed.
As we drew up at the pretty little club-house, Jupiter emerged from
the door and greeted me cordially. My eyes fell before his smiling
gaze, for I must confess I was mighty shamefaced over my experience of
the morning, but his manner restored my self-possession. It was very
genial and forgiving.
"Glad to see you again," he said. "If you play golf as well as you do
synonyms you're a scratch man. You didn't foozle a syllable."
"I should have, had I known as much as I do now," said I.
"Well, I'm glad you didn't know," Jupiter returned majestically, "for
I can use that word stult in my business. Now suppose we have a bit of
luncheon and then start out."
After eating sparingly we began our game. I was provided with a caddie
that looked like one of Raphael's angels, and Jupiter himself handed
me a driver from his own bag.
"You'll have to be careful how you use it," he said; "it has
properties which may astonish you."
I teed up my ball, swung back, and then with all the vigor at my
command whacked the ball square and true. It sprang from the tee like
a bird let loose and flew beyond my vision, and while I was trying
with my eye to keep up with it in its flight, I received a stinging
blow on the back of my head which felled me to the ground.
"Thunderation!" I roared. "What was that?"
Jupiter laughed. "It was your own ball," he said. "You put too much
muscle into that stroke, and, as a consequence, the ball flew all the
way round the planet and clipped you from behind."
"You don't mean to say--" I began.
"Yes, I do," said Jupiter. "That is a special long-distance driver
made for me. Only had it two days. It is not easy to use, because it
has such wonderful force. Hercules drove a ball three times around the
planet at one stroke with it yesterday. To use it properly requires
judgment. Up here you have to play golf with your head, as well as
with your clubs."
"Well, I played it with mine all right," I put in, rubbing the lump on
the back of my head ruefully. "Shall I play two?"
"Certainly," said Jupiter. "You've a good brassey lie behind the tee
there. Play gently now, for this hole isn't more than three hundred
miles long."
My brassey stroke is one of my best, and I did myself proud. The ball
flew about one hundred and seventy-nine miles in a straight line, but
landed in a sand-bunker. Jupiter followed with a good clean drive for
two hundred miles, breaking all the records previously stated to me by
Adonis, whereupon we entered the skitomobile and were promptly
transported to the edge of the bunker, where my ball reposed upon the
glistening sand. It took three to get out, owing to the height of the
cop, which rose a trifle higher in the air than Mount Blanc, but the
niblick Jason had brought along for my use, as soon as I got used to
the titanic quality of the game I was playing, was finally equal to
the loft. My ball landed just short of the green, one hundred and
sixteen miles away. Jupiter foozled his approach, and we both reached
the edge of the green in four.
"Bully distance for a putt," said Jupiter, taking the line from his
ball to the hole.
"About how far is it?" I asked, for I couldn't see anything
resembling a hole within a mile of me.
"Oh, five miles, I imagine," was the answer. "Put on these glasses and
you'll see the disk."
My courteous host handed me a pair of spectacles which I put upon my
nose, and there, seemingly two inches away, but in reality five and a
quarter miles, was the hole. The glasses were a revelation, but I had
seen too much that was wonderful to express surprise.
"Dead easy," I said, referring to the putt, now that I had the glasses
on.
"Looks so," said Jupiter, "but be careful. You can't hope to putt
until you know your ball."
At the moment I did not understand, but a minute after I had a shock.
Putting perfectly straight, the ball rolled easily along and then made
a slight hitch backward, as if I had put a cut on it, and struck off
ahead, straight as an arrow but to the left of the disk. This it
continued to do in its course, zigzagging more and more out of the
straight line until it finally stopped, quite two and a half miles
from the cup.
"Now watch me," said Jupiter. "You'll get an idea of how the ball
works."
I obeyed, and was surprised to see him aim at a point at least a mile
aside of the mark, but the results were perfect, for the gutty, acting
precisely as mine did, zigzagged along until it reached the rim of the
cup and then dropped gently in.
"One up," said Jupiter, with a broad smile as he watched my
ill-repressed wonderment.
As we were transported to the next tee by Phaeton and his machine, I
looked at my ball, and the peculiarity of its make became clear at
once. It was called "The Vulcan," and in action had precisely the
same movement as that of a thunder-bolt--thus:
[Illustration]
"Great ball, eh?" said Jupiter. "Adds a lot to the science of the
game. A straight putt is easy, but the zigzag is no child's play."
"I think I shall like it," I said, "if I ever get used to it."
The second hole reached, I was astonished to see a huge apparatus like
a cannon on the tee, and in fact that is what it turned out to be.
"We call this the Cannon Hole," said Jupiter. "It lends variety to the
game. It's a splendid test of your accuracy, and if you don't make it
in one you lose it. If you will put on those glasses you will see the
hole, which is in the middle of a target. You've got to go through it
at one stroke."
"That isn't golf, is it?" I asked. "It's marksmanship."
"I call it so," said Jupiter, calmly. "And what I say goes. Moreover,
it requires much skill to offset the effect of the wind."
"But there is none," said I.
"There will be," said Jupiter, putting his ball in the cannon's breach
and making ready to drive. "You see those huge steel affairs on either
side of the course, that look like the ventilators on an ocean
steamer?"
"Yes," said I, for as I looked I perceived that this part of the
course was studded with them.
"Well, they supply the wind," said Jupiter. "I just ring a bell and
AEolus sets his bellows going, and I tell you the winds you get are
cyclonic, and, best of all, they blow in all directions. From the
first ventilator the wind is northeast by south; from the second it
is southwest by north-northeast; from the third it is straight north,
and so on. Winds are blowing at the moment of play from all possible
points of the compass. Fore!"
A bell rang, and never in a wide experience in noises had I ever
before heard such a fearful din as followed. A hurricane sprang from
one point, a gale from another, a cyclone from a third--such an aeolian
purgatory was never let loose in my sight before, but Jupiter, gauging
each and all, fired his ball from the cannon, and it sped on, buffeted
here and there, now up, now down, like a bit of fluff in the chance
zephyrs of the spring-tide, but ultimately passing through the hole in
the target, and landing gently in a basket immediately behind the
bull's-eye. The winds immediately died down, and all was quiet again.
"Perfectly great!" I said, with enthusiasm, for it did seem
marvellous. "But I don't think I can do it. You win, of course."
"Not at all," said Jupiter. "If you hit the bull's-eye, as I did, you
win."
"And you lose in spite of that splendid--er--stroke?" I asked.
"Oh no--not at all," said Jupiter. "We both win."
Again the bell rang, and the winds blew, and the cannon shot, but my
ball, under the excitement of the moment of aiming, was directed not
towards the bull's-eye--or the hole--but at the skitomobile. It hit it
fairly and hard, and it smashed the engine by which the machine was
propelled, much to the consternation of Jason and Phaeton.
"Unfortunate," said Jupiter. "Very. But never mind. We don't have to
walk home."
"I'm awfully sorry," said I. "I--er--"
"Never mind," said Jupiter. "It is easily repaired, but we cannot go
on with the game. The next hole is eight thousand miles long. Twice
around the planet, and we couldn't possibly walk it, so we'll have to
quit. We've got all we can manage trudging back to the club-house.
Here, caddies, take our clubs back to the club-house, and tell 'em to
have two nectar high-balls ready at six-thirty. Phaeton, you and Jason
will have to get back the best way you can. I've told you a half-dozen
times to bring two machines with you, but you never seem to
understand. Come along, Higgins, we'll go back. Shut your eyes."
I closed my optics, as ordered, although my name is not Higgins, and I
didn't like to have even Jupiter so dub me.
"Now open them again," was the sharp order.
I did so, and lo and behold! by some supernatural power we had been
transported back to the club-house.
"I am sorry, Jupiter," said I "to have spoiled your game," as we sat,
later, sipping that delicious concoction, the nectar high-ball, which
we supplemented with a "Pegasus's neck."
"Nonsense," said he, grandly. "You haven't spoiled my _game_. You have
merely, without meaning to do so, spoiled your own afternoon. My game
is all right and will remain so. It would have been a great pleasure
to me to show you the other sixteen holes, but circumstances were
against us. Take your nectar and let us trot along. You dine with Juno
and myself to-night. Let's see, I was two up, wasn't I?"
"Two up, and sixteen to play."
"Then I win," said he. It was an extraordinary score, but then it was
an extraordinary occasion.
And we entered his chariot, and were whirled back to Olympus. The ride
home was not as exciting as the ride out, but it was interesting. It
lasted about a half of a millionth of a second, and for the first time
in my life I knew how a telegram feels when it travels from New York
to San Francisco, and gets there apparently three hours before it is
sent by the clock.
XII
I am Dismissed
It was a very interesting programme for my further entertainment that
Jupiter mapped out on our way back from the links, and I deeply regret
that an untoward incident that followed later, for which I was
unintentionally responsible, prevented its being carried out. I was to
have been taken off on a cruise on the inland sea, to where the lost
island of Atlantis was to be found; a special tournament at ping-pong
was to be held in my honor, in which minor planets were to be used
instead of balls, and the players were to be drawn from among the
Titans, who were retained to perform feats of valor, skill, and
strength for Jupiter. The forge of Vulcan was to be visited, and many
of the mysteries of the centre of the earth were to be revealed, and,
best of all, Jupiter himself had promised to give me an exhibition of
his own skill as a marksman in the hurling of thunder-bolts, and _I
was to select the objects to be hit!_ Think of it! What a chance lay
here for a man to be rid of certain things on earth that he did not
like! What a vast amount of ugly American architecture one could be
rid of in the twinkling of an eye! What a lot of enemies and eyesores
it was now in my power to have removed by an electrical process
availed of in the guise of sport! I spent an hour on that list of
targets, and if only I had been allowed to prolong my stay in the home
of the gods, the world itself would have benefited, for I was not
altogether personal in my selection of things for Jupiter to aim at.
There was Tammany Hall, for instance, and the Boxers of China--these
led my list. There were four or five sunlight-destroying, sky-scraping
office buildings in New York and elsewhere; nuisances of every kind
that I could think of were put down--the headquarters of the Beef
Trust and a few of its sponsors; the editorial offices of the peevish
and bilious newspapers, which deny principles and right motives to all
save themselves; a regiment of alleged humorists who make jokes about
the mother-in-law and other sacred relations of life; an opera-box
full of the people who hum every number of Wagner and Verdi through,
and keep other people from hearing the singers; row after row of
theatre-goers who come in late and trample over the virtuous folk who
have arrived punctually; any number of theatrical managers who mistake
gloom for amusement; three or four smirking matinee idols, whose
talents are measured by the fit of their clothes, the length of their
hair, and their ability to spit supernumeraries with a tin sword;
cab-drivers who had overcharged me; insolent railway officials; the
New York Central Tunnel--indeed, the completed list stretches on to
such proportions that it would require more pages than this book
contains to present them in detail. I even thought of including
Hippopopolis in the list, but when I realized that it was entirely
owing to his villany that I had enjoyed the delightful privilege of
visiting the gods in their own abode, I spared him. And to think that
because of an unintentional error this great opportunity to rid the
world, and incidentally myself, of much that is vexatious was wholly
lost is a matter of sincere grief to myself.
It happened in this way: Hardly had I returned to my delightful
apartment at the hotel, when a messenger arrived bearing a superbly
engraved command from Jupiter to dine with himself and Juno _en
famille_. It was a kind, courteous, and friendly note, utterly devoid
of formality, and we were to spend the evening at cards. Jupiter had
indicated in the afternoon that he would like to learn bridge, and,
inasmuch as I never travel anywhere without a text-book upon that
fascinating subject, I had volunteered to teach him. The dinner was
given largely to enable me to do this, and, moreover, Jupiter was
quite anxious to have me meet his family, and promised me that before
the evening was over I should hear some music from the lyre of Apollo,
meet all the muses, and enjoy a chafing-dish snack prepared by the
fair hand of Juno herself.
"I'll have Polyphemus up to give us a few coon songs if you like
them," he added, "and altogether I can promise you a delightful
evening. We drop all our state at these affairs, and I know you'll
enjoy yourself."
"I shall feel a trifle embarrassed in the presence of so many gods and
goddesses, I am afraid," I put in.
"I'll fix you out as to that," Jupiter replied. "I'll change you for
the time being into a god yourself, if you wish."
I laughed at the idea.
"A high old god I'd make," said I.
"You'd pass," he observed, quietly. "I'll call you Pencillius, god of
Chirography--or would you rather come as Nonsensius, the newly
discovered deity of Jocosity?"
"I think I'd rather be Zero, god of Nit," said I, and it was so
ordained.
Of course, I accepted the invitation and was on hand at the palace,
as I thought, promptly. As a matter of fact, my watch having in some
mysterious fashion been affected by the excitement of the adventure,
got galloping away just as my own heart had done more than once. The
result was that, instead of arriving at the palace at eight o'clock,
as I was expected to do, I got there at seven. Of course, my exalted
hosts were not ready to receive me, and there were no other guests to
bear me company and keep me out of mischief in the drawing-room, where
for an hour I was compelled to wait. At first all went well. I found
much entertainment in the room, and on the centre-table, a beautiful
bit of furniture, carved out of one huge amethyst, I discovered a
number of books and magazines, which kept me tolerably busy for a
half-hour. There was a finely bound copy of _Don'ts for the Gods, or
Celestial Etiquette_, in which I found many valuable hints on the
procedure of Olympian society--notably one injunction as to the use of
finger-bowls, from which I learned that the gods in their lavishness
have a bowl for each finger; and a little volume by Bacchus on
_Intemperance_, which I wish I might publish for the benefit of my
fellow-mortals. All I remember about it at the moment of writing is
that the author seriously enjoins upon his readers the wickedness of
drinking more than sixty cocktails a day, and utterly deprecates the
habit of certain Englishmen of drinking seven bottles of port at a
sitting. Bacchus seemed to think that, with the other wines incidental
to a dinner, no one, not even an Englishman, should attempt to absorb
more than five bottles of port over his coffee. It struck me as being
rather good advice.
Wearying of the reading at the end of a half-hour, I began a closer
inspection of the room and its contents. It was full of novelties,
and, naturally, gorgeous past all description; but what most excited
my curiosity was a small cabinet, not unlike a stereoscope in shape,
which stood in one corner of the room. It had a button at one side,
over which was a gilt tablet marked "Push." On its front was the
legend, "Drop a Nickel in the Slot, Push the Button, and See the
Future." I followed the instructions eagerly. The nickel was dropped,
the button pushed, and, putting my eyes before the lenses, I gazed
into the remotest days to come. I had come across the Futuroscope,
otherwise a kinetoscope with the gift of prophecy. The coming year
passed rapidly, and I saw what fate had in store for the world for the
twelve months immediately ahead of me; then followed a decade, then a
century, and then others, until, just as I was approaching the dread
cataclysm which is to mark the end of all mortal things, I heard a
quick, startled voice back of me.
It was that of Jupiter, and his tone was a strange mixture of wrath
and regret.
"What on earth have you done?" he cried.
"Nothing, your Majesty," said I, shaking all over as with the ague at
the revelations I had just witnessed, "except getting a bird's-eye
view of what is to come."