*CHAPTER VIII.*
*THE MERCURIALS.*
Professor Quinn and I were sitting on a large box constructed of metalthat was polished to dazzling brilliancy. So far as our purposes wereconcerned, this box was nothing less than an elevator; we had fallenupon it and it had carried us down into the wonderful interior of theplanet.
Now, truly, we were in another world--a world that teemed with life--asmiling and pleasant region underlying a most barren and inhospitableshell. The scoriated exterior of the planet was the husk; here was thekernel.
It was a white world, extending league on league in every direction androofed with a lofty vault that sparkled as with stars. From every handcame a bee-like hum, proving that we were in a hive of industry andlife.
Houses spread out before us in rows, queerly shaped structures thatlooked as though they might have been built of alabaster, and sodiminutive that the tallest scarcely came more than head high. Back ofthe houses were fields thickly covered with nodding blossoms that lookedlike snow; through the fields ran waterways dividing each into smallsquares.
So intent were we on the background of this strange picture that wefailed to take account of what was going on in our immediate vicinity.
Suddenly a weird creature hopped to the top of the box and stood betweenmy companion and myself, regarding us fixedly. This, I supposed, wasone of the Mercurials. If he considered the professor and myselfobjects of curiosity and surmise, we were no less keen in so regardinghim.
He stood twenty-three or twenty-four inches high; his head was an ivorybilliard ball, and his trunk a larger spheroid; from his middle downwardhung a red kirtle. He had one eye at the front of the head and an earat the back; the olfactory organ was missing, but there was a mouthopening perpendicularly under the eye.
The upper spheroid rested directly on the lower; and at each side of thelower one, corresponding to the shoulders, were two tentacle-like arms,sinuous as whips and ending in hands that were made up of a palm andseven digits. Queerest of all, there were two more arms set in thebreast and back.
From the creature's shoulder was suspended a round object like acanteen. For all of five minutes Quinn and I eyed this surprisingfigure and were eyed in return.
"Can you talk English?" asked the professor at last.
It was a foolish question, such as I was far from expecting from theprofessor, but something had to be said, and I suppose that was as goodas anything else. As the professor began speaking the head whirledsquarely around, presenting the ear.
After my companion was done, the head spun back again, and the breastarm caught the canteen while the fingers of a shoulder arm beganmanipulating a set of keys. The result was language, with all thevariations of tone and accent. But it was an unknown tongue, if anexpression of that kind may be allowed in such a case.
Since the word-box was as ineffective as our own speech, we fell backwith more success on the language of signs. At this the Mercurial hadthe better of us, for he could make signs with four hands.
The professor signified that we were hungry, and the Mercurial signifiedthat we were to descend from the box. This we did, and found ourselvesin the centre of a group of Mercurials whose word-boxes were chatteringlike so many magpies.
The Mercurial with whom we were already on gesticulating terms playedoff some orders on his own canteen, and two of the others advanced uponthe box from which we had just descended. Pulling out a slide in theside of the receptacle, they exposed two ewers of steaming food, and wewere motioned to fall to.
We stood not upon the order, but obeyed instantly, using a pair of smallpaddles which were thrust into our hands. I had no idea what the foodmight be, but it was tender and of good flavor.
"A bright little people," observed the professor as he ate.
"Seemingly," I responded.
"Nature has denied them the power of speech, yet see how they havesurmounted the difficulty. I must give that talking machine of theirs aclose inspection. We are in a most wonderful country, Mr. Munn."
"The little I have seen of it already quite dazes me," said I. "What apickpocket a man could make of himself with all those hands!"
Quinn gave me a reproachful look, and I hastily apologized for evenmentioning a branch of my profession.
"Do you understand now," said he, turning the subject very pleasantly,"what those bright objects were which we saw on the tops of the lowhills?"
"No," said I.
"They were ovens," he answered. "Food is put in them and sent up to thehot surface of the planet. When properly cooked it is lowered again."
Association with this learned man was a liberal education in itself. Ican never be sufficiently thankful to fate for causing our paths tocross.
"You think, then," said I, "that we were blown to the top of one of thehills and fell into a shaft used by the traveling ovens?"
"Nothing else could have happened."
The professor gave a start and looked worried.
"Dear, dear!" he exclaimed. "I was quite forgetting our friends. Whilewe are here feasting and taking our ease, they are battling with thestorm, and are no doubt in peril of their lives. How very, verythoughtless we are, Mr. Munn."
I was not greatly exercised over the matter. The trust magnates believedthat there was a figurative gulf between myself and them, and I was morethan willing that this gulf should grow from the symbol to the reality.
"I doubt if we can return to the outside of the planet at present,professor," said I, "and even if we were able to do so, what could weaccomplish in the face of that tremendous storm?"
"True, very true," said he.
"That oven," said I, by way of taking his mind from the plutocrats,"must have been very warm when we landed on it and descended to theseregions."
"We should have been grilled, sir," returned the professor, "but for thefact that we are coated, and our clothing impregnated, with myanti-temperature fluid."
"These Mercurials appear to stand the heat pretty well," I remarked.
"Covered, as we are, with the anti-temperature compound," he returned,"it is impossible for us to judge, even approximately, of the degree ofheat that obtains in these sub-Mercurial regions. Naturally it must bevery much less than prevails on the surface of the planet, and yet, evenat that, if left unprotected we should probably be shriveled tocinders."
"Hardly, professor," I ventured to protest. "Those fields"--and I wavedmy paddle toward the open country--"are growing rank with a white herb,which is evidently cooked in these ovens and served for food. Quitelikely we are eating of it now, and very good eating I find it. However,the point I wish to make is this: If the heat was so intense as yousurmise, those fields would be wilted and dried up."
"Nature, Mr. Munn," answered the professor, "adapts itself to everycondition. On our own planet we see how life and comfort are renderedpossible in every zone from the farthest north to the tropics; and thissame adaptability of intelligent creatures to their environment, we maybe sure, proceeds throughout the universe. These one-eared, one-eyed,diminutive creatures are formed in the manner best calculated to affordthem comfort and happiness amid these surroundings. And, as with them,so with the products of their husbandry."
"You could argue a squirrel out of a tree, professor," said I, withwhole-souled admiration. "I am sorry I did not take a course ofscientific training, for it would have helped me immensely in mybusiness. A burglar should be an all-around man. If I ever return toTerra----"
"So long as you feel as you do regarding your odious profession, Mr.Munn," broke in the professor, compressing his lips, "you will neverreturn to Terra."
"A return is possible?" I asked, hiding the wonder his words aroused.
"Anything is possible."
"How about the millionaires? Are they to return provided the means areat hand?"
"Provided they experience a change of heart. In their present state ofdelusion, they are mere firebrands of d
estruction. Before they everagain take part in mundane affairs, they must be taught to see thingsdifferently. I wonder what has become of them?"
The professor's brow clouded with anxiety.
"Don't fret about them, professor," said I. "They are not overeager forour society. Let them have a taste of shifting for themselves withoutyour knowledge and resourcefulness to shield them from everything thatgoes wrong. It will do them a world of good."
"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Munn," my companion answered musingly. "IfI could know they had survived the storm, I should feel tolerably easyin my mind. These little Mercurials appear to be a friendly people, andif our comrades escaped that frightful tempest they must sooner or laterfall into the hands of these dwellers of the under-world."
"I suppose," I ventured, seeking to draw my companion's mind from theplutocrats, "that this Mercurial under-world is another illustration ofthe way Nature takes care of her proteges. After baking the outsideshell of the planet to a degree that makes all life impossible, shethoughtfully scoops out the interior so that these small creatures willhave a place to go."
"You have stated the case correctly, Mr. Munn," and the professor's facelighted up as he swept his gaze over the country immediately adjacent."These ovens," he proceeded, "are a remarkable example of adapting meansto an end. The fierce heat of the surface does the cooking."
"Popham will find little pleasure in that," I laughed.
"Like the rest of us," answered the professor grimly, "he will have toaccustom himself to new conditions."
"Everything must be different here from the surroundings with which wehave been familiar all our lives. I wonder what form of property isconsidered most valuable to these Mercurials?"
The professor frowned. My mind was running in its old groove despiteits novel environment.
"That query was inspired by an unworthy motive, Mr. Munn," said Quinnseverely.
I bowed humbly. "Every man his own way," said I. "I cannot help tryingto adjust myself along the line of the principles I know best.Nevertheless I am of an intensely curious disposition, and thosetalk-boxes fill me with wonder."
"The Mercurials are dumb, it seems," answered the professor, "and theyhave to resort to purely mechanical means for an exchange of ideas.Language appears to flow readily enough from the little boxes."
"If any one of them ever lost his four hands," I observed, "he would notonly find it impossible to help himself but would be unable to tellothers what to do to help him. Nature has been prodigal with them inthe matter of hands, and in this, no doubt, showed her usual wisdom."
"I am glad to see your thoughts taking a philosophical trend, Mr. Munn,"said the professor. "It argues well for your future."
By that time we had emptied the receptacle of food, and as we droppedour paddles and drew back, the word-boxes of a hundred Mercurialsshrieked despairingly. The pygmies clustered about the empty basins,glared into them, and then turned their menacing eyes on the professorand myself.
"Goodness me, Mr. Munn," exclaimed the professor. "We have probablyeaten the food supply of the entire district. If we do not have a care,our voracious appetites are like to prove our undoing. Look, there comemore of the Mercurials. They're after their supper, I'll warrant, andthey are going to be disappointed."
I looked in the direction indicated by the professor, and saw a longline of billiard balls rolling our way.
It was a procession, headed by a pompous little Mercurial whose trunkand arms were gorgeously gilded. With two of his hands he carried ametal plate and spoon, and with the other two he wielded a silver batonabout the size of a match.
Plates and paddles were also carried by the rest of the advancingMercurials, their word-boxes chanting a sort of quickstep. The sight ofthe professor and myself, towering mountain-like over the throng aboutus, brought the procession to an abrupt halt with a squeak of dismay.
The gentleman in the red kirtle went forward and held converse with thegentleman of the gilt torso. Before they got through, their word-boxeswere fairly roaring, and stricken groans went up from every talk-machinein the line.
The advent of two leviathans like my companion and myself must have hada demoralizing effect, but that seemed as nothing in comparison with theharrowing results of our voracity.
The leader raised his baton. Silence fell. The leader then advanced towhere we were standing and circled around us, examining us criticallywith his solitary eye.
The survey finished, he tried his word-box on us, the professoranswering in all the languages of our home planet, living and dead, ofwhich he was master. But in vain; we could not come to anunderstanding.
The begilded gentleman finally gave over and whirled on the underling inthe red kirtle. His fingers flew over the keys of his canteen, andspeech of a swift and commanding kind was poured out.
A skurrying about of the oven tenders resulted. From somewhere a freshsupply of uncooked food was brought and placed in the huge metal box.
While this was going forward, Quinn suddenly seized my arm, a troubledlook crossing his face.
"What is the matter, professor?" I asked.
"Matter enough, Mr. Munn!" he answered. "The lever was left on NumberFive!"
His thoughts were up with the steel car. I was surprised at this, forit appeared to me that there was more than enough to claim our fullattention right in our immediate vicinity.
"And what of that, sir?" I asked.
"The anti-gravity cubes lighten the car by five degrees," he answeredexcitedly. "Thus buoyed, and in its elevated position, I doubt if thecar should hold its own against the fury of the storm!"
"You think it has been blown----"
"Aye! Blown to the uttermost parts of Mercury and perhaps wrecked andlost--lost with all our scientific apparatus and other paraphernalia!"
"But----"
"And that is not all," went on the professor. "The lever should havebeen thrown to zero and then removed to prevent Gilhooly from tamperingwith it. Who knows what that mad railway magnate may take it into hishead to do? Suppose he were to grasp the lever and give the cubes theirfull power. He would be launched into the void, sir, and we should bemarooned on this sun-baked planet, compelled to live out our lives withthese one-eyed quadrumana, devastating the country of its foodsupply--our presence a curse instead of a blessing!"
I had already imagined a possible return to Terra, and from this it,seemed that the professor had not lost sight of that contingency.
"What is to be done?" I asked, catching some of his excitement.
"We must return to the outer shell--we must find the car--we must goback on the oven when they send it up!"
As he finished speaking, Quinn ran frantically to the metal box andleaped to its top. I followed, clumsily upsetting a half dozenMercurials who chanced to gel in my way.
The oven was loaded by that time and ready for its return to the intenseheat; nay, more, the chef in the red kirtle already had his hand on awheel which presumably released the lifting power.
Our movements, however, had acted as a check on proceedings.
"We've got to go back!" cried the professor, forgetting in his stress offeeling that his words were lost on the throng around us. "Don'tattempt to stop us, don't! We'll return----"
The Mercurials began leaping to the box from all sides in a veritableswarm. Carried away by the excitement of the moment, I sank to my kneesand swept my arms about me, throwing them back pell-mell.
The professor also resorted to violence. In the midst of it all, Icaught a glimpse of the gilded gentleman aiming his baton.
A moment more and there was a lurid flash, which enveloped my companionand myself in a billow of violet fire. Every atom of strength was drawnfrom my limbs, and I fell limply to the ground with the professor on topof me.
Adrift in the Unknown; or, Queer Adventures in a Queer Realm Page 8