Books: The Land of the Changing Sun
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William N. Harben >> The Land of the Changing Sun
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The bell rang again. "We are rising," said Johnston. "If this is
the only way of reaching the king's domain, we could never get
back to civilization unless they release us of their own accord,
that's certain!"
"Heavens, isn't it still!" exclaimed the Englishman. "The
machinery of this thing moves as noiselessly as the backbone of
an eel. I wish I could understand its works."
"I am more concerned about where we are going. I tell you we are
being taken to some wonderful place. People who can construct
such marvels of mechanical skill as this boat will not be behind
in other things; then look at the physiques of those giants."
Just then the man who had drawn down the shade came in and raised
it. Both the captives pretended to be uninterested in
his movements, but when he had withdrawn they looked through the
glass eagerly.
"See," whispered Thorndyke, in the ear of his companion, "the
walls are close to us, and are as perpendicular as those of
the lake in which they found us."
Johnston said nothing. His attention was riveted to the walls of
rock; the vessel was rising rapidly. An hour passed. The soft
music had ceased, and the air seemed less dense and fresher.
Then the waters suddenly parted over the roof and ran in crystal
streams down the oval glass.
They were on the surface, and the vessel was slowly gliding
toward the shore which could not be seen owing to there now
being no light except that inside the boat. Captain Tradmos
entered, followed by two of his men holding black silken
bandages.
"We must blindfold you," he said; "cap- tives are not allowed to
see the entrance to our kingdom."
Without a word they submitted.
"This way," said the captain kindly, and, holding to an arm of
each, he piloted them out of the vessel to the shore. Then he
led them through what they imagined to be a long stone corridor
or arcade from the ringing echoes of their feet on the stone
pavement. Presently they came to what seemed to be an elevator,
for when they had entered it and sat down, they heard a
metallic door slide back into its place, and they descended
quickly.
They could form no idea as to the distance they went down; but
Thorndyke declared afterward that it was over ten thousand feet.
When the elevator stopped Captain Tradmos led them out, and both
of the captives were conscious of breathing the purest, most
invigorating air they had ever inhaled. Instantly their strength
returned, and they felt remarkably buoyant as they were led along
over another pavement of polished stone.
Tradmos laughed. "You like the atmosphere?"
"I never heard of anything like it," said Thorndyke. "It is so
delightful I can almost taste it."
"It was that which made Alpha what it is--the most wonderful
country in the universe," said the officer. "There is much in
store for you."
The ears of the two captives were greeted by a vague, indefinable
hum, like and yet unlike that of a busy city. It was like many
far-off sounds carefully muffled. Now and then they heard human
voices, laughter, and singing in the distance, and the twanging
of musical instruments.
Then they knew that they were entering a building of some sort,
for they heard a key turn in a lock and the humming sound in the
distance was cut off. They felt a soft carpet under their feet,
and the feet of their guards no longer clinked on the stones.
When the bandages were removed they found themselves in a
sumptuous chamber, alone with the captain. The brilliant
light from a quaintly-shaped candelabrum, in the centre of the
chamber, dazzled them, but in a few minutes their eyes had become
accustomed to it.
Tradmos seemed to be enjoying the looks of astonishment on their
faces as they glanced at the different objects in the room.
"It is night," he said smilingly. "You need rest after your
voyage. Lie down on the beds and sleep. To-morrow you will be
conducted to the palace of the king."
With a bow he withdrew, and they heard a massive bolt slide into
the socket of a door hidden behind a curtain. The two men gazed
at each other without speaking, for a moment, and then they began
to inspect the room.
In alcoves half-veiled with silken curtains stood statues in gold
and bronze. The walls and ceilings were decorated with pictures
unlike any they had ever seen. Before one, the picture of an
angel flying through a dark, star-filled sky, they both stood
enchanted.
"What is it?" asked Thorndyke, finding voice finally. "It is not
done with brush or pencil; the features seem alive and, by Jove,
you can actually see it breathe. Don't you see the clouds gliding
by, and the wings moving?"
"It is light--it is formed by light!" declared the other
enthusiastically, and he ran to the wall, about six feet from the
picture, and put his hand on a square metal box screwed to the
wall.
"I have it," he said quickly, "come here!"
The Englishman advanced curiously and examined the box.
"Don't you see that tiny speck of light in the side towards the
picture? Well, the view is thrown from this box on the wall, and
it is the motion of the powerful light that gives apparent life
to the angel. It is wonderful."
In a commodious alcove, in a glow of pink light from above, was a
life-sized group of musicians--statues in colored metal of
a Spanish girl playing a mandora, an Italian with a slender
calascione, a Russian playing his jorbon, and an African playing
a banjo. Luxurious couches hung by spiral springs from the
ceiling to a convenient height from the floor, and here and there
lay rugs of rare beauty and great ottomans of artistic designs
and colors.
"We ought to go to bed," proposed Thorndyke; "we shall have
plenty of time to see this Aladdin's land before we get away from
it."
There were two large downy beds on quaintly wrought bedsteads of
brass, but the two captives decided to sleep together.
Thorndyke was the first to awaken. The lights in the candelabrum
were out, but a gray light came in at the top and bottom of the
window. He rose and drew the heavy curtain of one of the windows
aside. He shrank back in astonishment.
Chapter III.
"What is it, Thorndyke? What are you looking at?" And the
American slowly left the bed and approached his friend.
Thorndyke only held the curtain further back and watched
Johnston's face as he looked through the wide plate-glass window.
"My gracious!" ejaculated the latter as he drew nearer. It was a
wondrous scene. The building in which they were imprisoned stood
on a gentle hill clad in luxuriant, smoothly-cut grass and
ornamented with beautiful flowers and plants; and below lay a
splendid city--a city built on undulating ground with innumerable
grand structures of white marble, with turrets, domes and
pinnacles of gold. Wide streets paved in polished stone and
bordered with lush-green grass interspersed with statues and beds
and mounds of strange plants and flowers stretched away in front
of them till they were lost in the dim, misty distance. Parks
filled with pavilions, pleasure-lakes, fountains and tortuous
drives and walks, dotted the landscape in all directions.
Thorndyke's breath had clouded the glass of the window, and he
rubbed it with his handkerchief. As he did so the sash slowly,
and without a particle of sound, slid to one side, disclosing a
narrow balcony outside. It had a graceful balustrade, made of
carved red-and-white mottled marble, and on the end of the
balcony facing the city sat a great gold and silver jug, ten
feet high, of rare design. The spout was formed by the body of a
dragon with wings extended; the handle was a serpent with
the extremity of its tail coiled around the neck of the jug.
The air that came in at the window was fresh and dewy, and laden
with the most entrancing odors. Thorndyke led the way out,
treading very gently at first. Johnston followed him, too much
surprised to make any comment. From this position, their view to
the left round the corner of the building was widened, and new
wonders appeared on every hand.
Over the polished stone pavements strange vehicles ran
noiselessly, as if the wheels had cushioned tires, and the
streets were crowded with an active, strangely- clad populace.
"Look at that!" exclaimed the American, and from a street corner
they saw a queer-looking machine, carrying half-a-dozen
passengers,rise like a bird with wings outspread and fly away
toward the east. They watched it till it disappeared in the
distance.
"We are indeed in wonderland," said the Englishman; "I can't make
head nor tail of it. We were on an isolated island, the Lord only
knows where, and have suddenly been transported to a new world!"
"I can't feel at all as if we were in the world we were born in,"
returned Johnston. "I feel strange."
"The wine," suggested the Englishman, "you know it did wonders
for us in that subwater thing."
"No; the wine has nothing to do with it. My head never was
clearer. The very atmosphere is peculiar. The air is
invigorating, and I can't get enough of it."
"That is exactly the way I feel," was Thorndyke's answer.
"Look at the sunlight," went on Johnston; "it is gray like our
dawn, but see how transparent it is. You can look through it for
miles and miles. It is becoming pink in the east, the sun will
soon be up, and I am curious to see it."
"It must be up now, but we cannot see it for the hills and
buildings. My goodness, see that!" and the Englishman pointed
to the east. A flood of delicate pink light was now pouring into
the vast body of gray and was slowly driving the more sombre
color toward the west. The line of separation was marked--so
marked, indeed, that it seemed a vast, rose-colored billow
rolling, widening and sweeping onward like a swell of the ocean
shoreward. On it came rapidly, till the whole landscape was
magically changed. The flowers, the trees, the grass, the waters
of the lakes, the white buildings, the costumes of the people in
the streets, even the sky, changed in aspect. The white clouds
looked like fire-lit smoke, and far toward the west rolled the
long line of pink still struggling with the gray and driving
it back.
The sun now came into sight, a great bleeding ball of fire slowly
rising above the gilded roofs in the distance.
"By Jove, look at our shadows!" exclaimed Johnston, and both men
gazed at the balcony floor in amazement; their shadows were as
clearly defined and black as silhouettes. "How do you account
for that?" continued the American, "I am firmly convinced that
this sun is not the orb that shines over my native land."
Thorndyke laughed, but his laugh was forced. "How absurd! and
yet--" He extended his hand over the balustrade into the rosy
glow, and without concluding his remark held it back into the
shadow of the window-casement. "By Jove!" he exclaimed; "there is
not a particle of warmth in it. It is exactly the same
temperature in the shade as in the light." He moved back against
the wall. "No; there is no difference; the blamed thing doesn't
give out any warmth."
Johnston's hands were extended in the light. "I believe you are
right," he declared in awe, "something is wrong."
At that moment appeared from the room behind them a handsome
youth, attired in a suit of scarlet silk that fitted his
athletic figure perfectly. He rapped softly on the window-
casement and bowed when they turned.
"Your breakfast is waiting for you," he announced. They followed
him into a room adjoining the one they had occupied, and found a
table holding a sumptuous repast. The boy gave them seats and
handed them golden plates to eat upon. The fruits, wine and meats
were very appetizing, and they ate with relish.
"I believe we are to be conducted to the palace of your king to-
morrow," ventured the Englishman to the boy.
The boy shook his head, but made no reply, and busied himself
with removing the dishes. As they were rising from the table,
they heard footsteps in the hall outside. The door opened. It
was Captain Tradmos, and he was accompanied by a tall, bearded
man with a leather case under his arm.
"You must undergo a medical examination," the captain said
smilingly. "It is our invariable custom, but this is by a
special order from the king."
Johnston shuddered as he looked at the odd-looking instruments
the medical man was taking from the case, but Thorndyke watched
his movements with phlegmatic indifference. He stood erect; threw
back his shoulders; expanded his massive chest and struck it with
his clenched fist in pantomimic boastfulness.
Tradmos smiled genially; but there was something curt and
official in his tone when he next spoke that took the
Englishman slightly aback. "You must bare your breast over your
heart and lungs," he said; and while Thorndyke was unbuttoning
his shirt, he and the medical man went to the door and brought
into the room a great golden bell hanging in a metallic frame.
The bell was so thin and sensitive to the slightest jar or
movement that, although it had been handled with extreme care,
the captives could see that it was vibrating considerably, and
the room was filled with a low metallic sound that not only
affected the ear of the hearer but set every nerve to tingling.
The medical man stopped the sound by laying his hand upon the
bell. To a tube in the top of the bell he fastened one end of a
rubber pipe; the other end was finished with a silver device
shaped like the mouth-piece of a speaking tube. This he firmly
pressed over the Englishman's heart. Thorndyke winced and bit his
lip, for the strange thing took hold of his flesh with the
tenacity of a powerful suction-pump.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed playfully, but Johnston saw that he had
turned pale, and that his face was drawn as if from pain.
"Hold still!" ordered the medical man; "it will be over in a
minute; now, be perfectly quiet and listen to the bell!"
The Englishman stood motionless, the sinews of his neck drawn and
knotted, his eyes starting from their sockets. Thorndyke felt the
rubber tube quiver suddenly and writhe with the slow energy of a
dying snake, and then from the quivering bell came a low,
gurgling sound like a stream of water being forced backward and
forward.
Tradmos and the medical man stepped to the bell and inspected a
small dial on its top.
"What was that?" gasped the Englishman, purple in the face.
"The sound of your blood," answered Tradmos, as he removed the
instrument from Thorndyke's flesh; "it is as regular as mine; you
are very lucky; you are slightly fatigued, but you will be sound
in a day or two."
"Thank you," replied the Englishman, but he sank into a chair,
overcome with weakness.
"Now, I'll take you, please," said the medical man, motioning
Johnston to rise.
"I am slightly nervous," apologized the latter, as he stood up
and awkwardly fumbled the buttons of his coat.
"Nervousness is a mental disease," said the man, with
professional brusqueness; "it has nothing to do with the body
except to dominate it at times. If you pass your examination you
may live to overcome it."
The American looked furtively at Thorndyke, but the head of the
Englishman had sunk on his breast and he seemed to be asleep.
Johnston had never felt so lonely and forsaken in his life. From
his childhood he had entertained a secret fear that he had
inherited heart disease, and like Maupassant's "Coward," who
committed suicide rather than meet a man in a duel, he had tried
in vain to get away from the horrible, ever-present thought by
plunging into perilous adventures.
At that moment he felt that he would rather die than know the
worst from the uncanny instrument that had just tortured his
strong comrade till he was overcome with exhaustion.
"I never felt better in my life," he said falteringly, but it
seemed to him that every nerve and muscle in his frame was
withering through fear. His tongue felt clumsy and thick and his
knees were quivering as with ague.
"Stand still," ordered the physician sternly, and Johnston was
further humiliated by having Tradmos sympathetically catch hold
of his arm to steady him.
"Your people are far advanced in the sciences," went on the
physician coldly, "but there are only a few out of their number
who know that the mind governs the body and that fear is its
prime enemy. Five minutes ago you were eating heartily and had
your share of physical strength, and yet the mere thought that
you are now to know the actual condition of your most vital organ
has made you as weak as an infant. If you kept up this state of
mind for a month it would kill you.
"Now listen," he went on, as the instrument gripped Johnston's
flesh and the rubber tube began to twist and move as if
charged with electricity. The American held his breath. A sound
as of water being forced through channels that were choked,
mingled with a wheezing sound like wind escaping from a broken
bellows came from the bell.
"Your frame is all right," said the medical man, as he released
the trembling American, "but you have long believed in the
weakness of your heart and it has, on that account, become so.
You must banish all fear from your thoughts. You perhaps
know that we have a place specially prepared for those who are
not physically sound. I am sorry that you do not stand a
better examination."
Tradmos regarded the American with a look of sympathy as he gave
him a chair and then rang a bell on the table. Thorndyke looked
up sleepily, as an attendant entered with a couple of parcels,
and glanced wonderingly at his friend's white face and bloodshot
eyes.
"What's the matter?" he asked; but Johnston made no reply, for
the captain had opened the parcels and taken out two suits of
silken clothing.
"Put them on," he said, giving a suit of gray to Johnston and one
of light blue to Thorndyke. "We shall leave you to change your
attire, and I shall soon come for you."
Chapter IV.
In a few minutes the captain returned and found his prisoners
ready to go with him. Thorndyke looked exceedingly handsome in
his glossy tights, close-fitting sack-coat, tinsel belt and low
shoes with buckles of gold. The natural color had come back into
his cheeks, and he was exhilarated over the prospect of further
adventure.
It was not so, however, with poor Johnston; his spirits had been
so dampened by the physician's words that he could not rally from
his despondency. His suit fitted his figure as well as that of
the Englishman, but he could not wear it with the same hopeful
grace.
"Cheer up!" whispered Thorndyke, as they followed the captain
through a long corridor, "if we are on our way to the stake or
block we are at least going dressed like gentlemen."
Outside they found the streets lined with spectators eagerly
waiting to see them pass. The men all had suits like those which
had been given the captives, and the women wore flowing gowns
like those of ancient Greece.
"These are the common people," whispered Thorndyke to Johnston,
"but did you ever dream of such perfect features and physiques?
Every face is full of merriment and good cheer. I am curious to
see the royalty."
Johnston made no reply, for Captain Tradmos turned suddenly and
faced them.
"Stand here till I return," he said, and he went back into the
house.
"Where in the deuce do you think we are?" pursued Thorndyke with
a grim smile.
"Haven't the slightest idea," sighed Johnston, and he shuddered
as he looked down the long white street with its borders of human
faces.
Thorndyke was observant.
"There is not a breath of air stirring," he said; "and yet the
atmosphere is like impalpable delicacies to a hungry man's
stomach.Look at that big tree, not a leaf is moving, and yet
every breath I draw is as fresh as if it came from a mountain-
top. Did you ever see such flowers as those? Look at that ocean
of orchids."
"They think we are a regular monkey-show," grumbled the American.
"Look how the crowd is gaping and shoving and fighting for places
to see us."
"It's your legs they want to behold, old fellow. Do you know I
never knew you had such knotty knee-joints; did you ever have
rheumatism? I wish I had 'em; they wouldn't put me to death--they
would make me the chief attraction in the royal museum." Thorndyke
concluded his jest with a laugh, but the face of his
friend did not brighten.
"You bet that medical examination meant something serious," he
said.
"Pooh!" and the Englishman slapped his friend playfully on the
shoulder.
"Since I have seen that vast crowd of well-developed people, and
remember what that medicine man said, I have made up my mind that
we are going to be separated." Poor Johnston's lip was quivering.
"Rubbish! but there comes the captain; put on a bold front; talk
up New York; tell 'em about Chicago and the Fair, and ask to be
allowed to ride in their Ferris Wheel--if they ain't got no
wheel, ask 'em when the first train leaves town."
"This is no time for jokes," growled Johnston, as Tradmos
returned. Tradmos motioned to something that in the
distance looked like a carriage, but which turned out to be a
flying machine. It rose gracefully and glided over the ground and
settled at their feet. It was large enough to seat a dozen
people, and there was a little glass-windowed compartment at the
end in which they could see "the driver," as he was termed by
Tradmos. The mysterious machinery was hidden in the woodwork
overhead and beneath.
"Get in," said the captain, and the door flew open as if of its
own accord. Thorndyke went in first and was followed by the moody
American. "Let up on the ague," jested Thorndyke, nudging his
friend with his elbow; "if you keep on quivering like that you
may shake the thing loose from its moorings and we'd never know
what became of us."
Johnston scowled, and the officer, who had overheard the remark,
smiled as he leaned toward the window and gave some directions to
the man in the other compartment.
"You both take it rather coolly," he remarked to Thorndyke. "I
took a man and a woman over this route several years ago and both
of them were in a dead faint; but, in fact, you have nothing to
fear. We never have accidents."
"It is as safe as a balloon, I suppose, and we are at home in
them," said the Englishman, with just the hint of a swagger in
his tone.
"But your balloons are poor, primitive things at best," returned
Tradmos in his soft voice. "They can't be compared to this mode
of travel, though, of course, our machines would not operate in
your atmosphere."
"Why not?" impulsively asked the Englishman. "I thought----"
But he did not conclude his remark, for they were rising, and
both he and Johnston leaned apprehensively forward and looked out
of one of the windows. Down below the long lines of people were
silently waving their hats, scarfs and handkerchiefs as the
machine swept along over their heads. As they rose higher the
scene below widened like a great circular fan, and in the delicate
roselight, the whole so appealed to Thorndyke's artistic sense
that he ejaculated:
"Glorious! Superb! Transcendent!" and he directed Johnston's
attention to the wonderful pinkish haze which lay over the
view toward the west like a vast diaphanous web of rosy sunbeams.
"You ask why our air-ships would not operate in your atmosphere,"
said the captain, showing pleasure at Thorndyke's enthusiasm.
"It is simple enough when you have studied the climatic
differences between the two countries. You have much to contend
with--the winds, for instance, the heat and cold, etc.; this is
the only known country where the winds are subjugated. I have
never been in your world, but from what I have heard of it I am
not anxious to see it. Your atmosphere and climate are so
changeable and so diverse in different localities that I have
heard your people spend much of their time in seeking congenial
climes. I think it was a man who came from London that claimed he
once had a cold--'a bad cold,' I think he called it. It was a
standing joke in the royal family for a long time, and he heard
so much about it that he tried to deny what he had said!"
Johnston glanced at the speaker non-plussed, but the captain was
looking at Thorndyke.
"Your climate is delightful here now," said the Englishman; "is
it so long at a time?"
"Perpetually; it is regulated every moment, and every year we
perfect it in some way."
"Perfect it?"
"Yes, of course, why not? If it ever fails to be up to the usual
high standard, it is owing to neglect of those in charge, and
neglect is punished severely."
Thorndyke's eyes sought those of the American incredulously.
Seeing which Tradmos looked amused.
"You doubt it," he smiled. "Well, wait till you have been here
longer. The fact is, any one born in our climate could not live
in yours. The king experimented on a man who claimed to have only
one lung, but who had two sound ones when he was cut open. Well,
the king sent him to China, or America, or some such place, and
he wheezed himself to death in a week by your clocks. The weather
was too fickle for him. Our system has been perfected to such an
extent that we live four lives to your one, and our fruits and
vegetables are a hundred per cent. better than those in other
countries."
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