THE newcomer was a pleasant-looking young fellow, of about Jack’s age, and similarly attired, though in different colors. He came swiftly forward, with arm upraised in a friendly greeting. “Welcome, Jack!” exclaimed he. He laid his right hand on Jack’s breast, over the heart—apparently the Saturnian mode of accost. “And this must be Jim,” he added, smiling at the urchin: “you are welcome, both. Lamara, our highest, sent me to find and attend you. My name is Argon. I would have reached you sooner, but Torpeon, the arch mischief-maker, deflected your course hither, so that you landed far from the point where we were looking for you. Has he annoyed you?”
“We had a little argument,” replied Jack modestly. “But he made an assertion as to a lady in whom I am interested, which gave me some anxiety.”
“Miriam: yes!” answered the other. “She arrived here safely a few days ago, and Lamara assigned my sister Zarga to take care of her: Zarga is the best-loved and most trusted handmaid of the Highest. But Torpeon seems to have got information about her from some source yet undiscovered; there is even reason to suspect treason, and an investigation is being made. At any rate, he succeeded in gaining access to her at a moment when she was alone, and though he inflicted no actual injury, he was able to put his mark on her, which may suffice to put her to some inconvenience. Otherwise she is well, and eager, I needn’t say, to meet her friend from New York.”
“His mark!” repeated Jack, frowning. “What is that, and how does it affect her?”
“Torpeon is a skilful magician,” said Argon. “Magic, among us, is condemned and forbidden as an evil; but we have learned to control nature by studying and adapting her laws. But magic is dominant on Tor: the Torides are an unruly and turbulent people, and for many generations they have been hostile to us. We never make war but we have means of passive resistance which are effective; so that though long ago the Torides used to make raids on us occasionally, they have now mostly given them up. Torpeon himself, however, sometimes comes here: and though he can do no hurt to us Saturnians, he is always on the watch for some visitor from another planet, who would be more subject to his arts. Miriam had come to us unexpectedly, and he laid a plot to kidnap her, with the idea, I presume, that she might be of use to him in his designs, which are very ambitious.”
While Argon thus discoursed, he was leading his friends in the direction of a long, bright line upon the horizon, which might be the ocean.
“But the mark!” repeated Jack insistently.
“Torpeon carries with him a wand, which he uses for various purposes,” said Argon, “and he succeeded in touching Miriam once with it on the forehead. The effect it to put her, for an hour every day, into a sort of trance, during which he can communicate with her. The rest of the time she is herself, and her own mistress.”
“And what is the hour?” demanded Jack.
“That is as Torpeon pleases: it may be any hour: we cannot control it, though our scientific men, under the guidance of Aunion, the chief, are studying means of dissolving the spell. But it seems very difficult.
Jack looked very gloomy. “I believe I know something of his wand,” he remarked, indicating the truncheon which Jim still carried. “He fired a shot at me with it, but thanks to Mary Faust, it went astray. I wish I’d tried it on him.”
“It would probably have been ineffective in any hands but his,” said Argon taking the truncheon and examining it. “It is tuned to accord with the person using it. Your capture of it is a remarkable feat; but he no doubt has others. Mary Faust,” he added, “is well known and greatly honored here. You are well protected.”
“I’m not worrying about myself,” returned Jack, “but Miriam.”
“I feel sure that with reasonable precautions that will turn out all right,” said the other. “Lamara will talk with you about it, and of course you will see Miriam. I hope you will like us and our world,” he continued cordially.
“It’s beautiful,” said Jack trying to throw off his preoccupation. “I wonder it has so few inhabitants.”
“Oh, there are plenty of us,” answered Argon with a smile; “but we have no cities, as you do, and our habitations come and go as we need them: the permanence of your dwelling and structures seems to us strange and burdensome. My sister and I have made a special study of conditions on your earth. But as to our population, if you’ll lift the visor of your cap, you will see some of them.”
Jack had not been aware of a cap: but on turning back the visor he was startled to see that they were moving amid many groups of persons scattered over the landscape. They were cheerfully engaged in various occupations and amusements, and there was a number of pretty rustic houses, simple but commodious: but some of these, even while he looked at them, melted out of sight or disentangled themselves, as it were, from the special forms imposed on them by human design, and returned to the forest boughs, waving grass or other natural objects of which they had been composed.
“Is not this magic?” he exclaimed.
“No: only honest science. We have some control of the ether, and have solved a few other problems, so that our bodily needs are met with small labor. You will soon become used to us. Our discovery of invisibility was very welcome. It’s only a matter, as you see, of reversing the direction of the flames, which are controlled by the cap. It put an end to the raids of the Torides: they find nothing but an empty desert.”
“What sort of a place is Tor?” Jack asked, with a view to possible future adventures.
“Different from this: parts of it savage and dangerous, none of it beautiful. The greater part of the population is barbarous: the others, though highly trained in certain ways, live under a severe despotism. I have never been there myself; but it happens that my sister Zarga and I are descendants of one of the Torides, who remained behind here after one of their raids. That was many generations ago.”
Jack’s mind listened, but his heart, which was perhaps the greater part of him, was bent toward Miriam. He could find interest in nothing else. That one hour of each day under Torpeon’s influence seemed to his lover’s jealousy to lengthen itself into eternities. The passions of love and of hate raged within him.
Argon, perhaps divining his thoughts, said in a friendly manner, “Saturnians believe that the secret of happiness and power is power over one’s self—self-command in all things. That leads to control over both matter and spirit. You, and Miriam also, are probably just now moved by strong feelings and wishes—personal impulses. So far as you yield to them, the influence of creatures like Torpeon finds access to you. Our wise men say that war against evil and wrong is always right, but that war against individuals who do wrong and evil is always a mistake: we must distinguish between the man and the evil in him. Then, he cannot harm us: otherwise, he may. It’s a simple rule, but it needs discipline to observe it.”
“It isn’t so hard to bear trouble for one’s self,” said Jack, “but to bear it when some one you care for is concerned is another matter. If ever I get my hands on Torpeon again, I shall take a short way with him!”
“After all, he is more his own enemy than you are,” replied Argon. “But I must confess I sympathize with your feeling. We will prevent him somehow. But—here we are!”
By some means not evident to Jack at that time, they had covered a great space of ground in a short while. They were now on a high, level space near the borders of the sea; a few miles from shore appeared a wooded island, with a tower showing above the trees: near at hand was an edifice of noble proportions, in front of which was assembled a small group of persons, foremost among them a tall young woman clothed in white.
“That is our Highest, Lamara,” said Argon, in a reverential tone.
“But I don’t see Miriam!” rejoined Jack, his face falling.
Argon made no reply, and they went forward.