In Caverns Below

Now I must confess that I read these words not without a shudder. The members of the Silver Legion, having been to war, had had long experience in crime and hence were renowned for the blackness of their deeds; and it seemed possible that they would make good their threat, and, by means of Mulflar, the violet ray, or some other nefarious device, would speedily "turn me over."

However, I had now gone too far to retreat; if I were to die, I would at least die fighting. After thinking the matter over for a few minutes, I came to the conclusion that, as I had little actual power, my only hope lay in a good old-fashioned "bluff."

And so, without further waste of time, I wrote the following message:

Having awarded myself this title as a final stroke of genius, I dispatched the letter through a pneumatic tube and sat down to await results.

CHAPTER XXIII

I Become Second Class

In spite of strikes and minor catastrophes, the war between Wu and Zu was still being waged. Of late, however, it had grown a bit dull and unexciting; both factions had been entrenching themselves for a dogged fight over Nullnull; and, except for the periodic capture and recapture of a few square yards and the daily "turnover" of several thousand men on each side, nothing of much consequence was happening. It is this fact that explains the interest in the Ventilation Strike; for the people of Wu, thanks to their scrupulous practice of thoughtlessness, require something to keep them constantly entertained.

Nevertheless, the inhabitants of Zu had not forgotten that they were still fighting; and when they heard of the ventilation troubles in Wu, they hailed the news with vast secret jubilation, and their statesmen and generals chuckled and vowed to take advantage of the opportunity. This meant, of course, that they were determined to produce a great enemy "turnover"; while, in order to accomplish this end, they had to resort to the Subterrains, those formidable machines which bored underground and attacked by means of Mulflar torpedoes.

The result was that, on the day the strike was officially declared, half a dozen Subterrain assaults were launched in widely scattered districts throughout Wu. Always the destruction was enormous, although the "turnover," according to treaty, was limited to Second and Third Class citizens. But the facts were not known until long afterwards, and then but imperfectly, since the papers, in their pre-occupation with weightier matters, rarely had space to give to enemy triumphs. Hence the explosion that wrecked the headquarters of the Central Striking Committee was not generally ascribed to its actual source.

There is no question, in view of subsequent investigations, that this represented but one of the series of Subterrain attacks; however, it occurred at such a time and in such a way that another interpretation seemed possible. The Head of the Committee was known to have received my letter of defiance, and had just called his secretary to dictate an ultimatum, which would end my revolt once and for all ... when suddenly the earth rose beneath his feet, and he and a corps of his assistants were "turned over" in a disaster that left their offices a charred heap of ruins.

Naturally, both the Blare and the Screamer were delighted to report the tragedy; and having already learned of my letter to the Committee, the editors of both journals concluded that the occasion called for another "Extra-extra," which they proceeded to issue without allowing time for second thought. Since great minds, even in Wu, tend to run in the same channel, the position taken by both editors was identical: that the blow had been struck by the "Citizen's Anti-Strike Committee," whose "High Chief Commander" was fulfilling his promise to give a "manifestation of his wrath."

Now I have always been convinced that the attack upon the headquarters of the Central Committee would have ended the strike, whether or not I had had any connection with the affair. The workers, deprived of their leaders, would have been disorganized; and disorganization would have led to the collapse of the whole movement. But, as it happened, no one seemed to realize this; no one ever thought of disagreeing with the Blare and the Screamer, which, in order to make sensational news stories, gave me the entire credit for the accomplishment. Not half a dozen hours had passed after the Subterrain attack before the strike was officially over; the laborers, intimidated by dread of a foe who could take deadly and mysterious vengeance, were afraid to remain defiant; and such was their general level of thoughtlessness that reason had no power against their superstitious terror.

Even while the strike was being settled, I received a visit from a distinguished delegation. I was still seated in the Ventilation Office, gnawing at a lunch of concentrated food capsules and amusing myself by reading of my alleged exploits in the Screamer, when the blast of a whistle at the door made me leap up with a start. Would I have another Striking Sub-Committee to fight? No!—nothing so alarming! Riding toward me on "scootscoots" decorated with green and vermilion, and surrounded by dozens of obsequious lackeys, were three chalk-faces whose shriveled forms, profuse adornments, and artificial eyes, ears, and breathing apparatus proclaimed them to be First Class citizens.

In accordance with the requirements of good form, I bowed low, sweeping the floor with the palm of my hand as a sign of deference; but at the same time I was sorely troubled, for what could such dignitaries desire of me?

Without acknowledging my bow, one of the First Class men lifted a megaphone to his mouth and addressed me abruptly, as was deemed only proper in the presence of a menial.

"Tell me, sir, are you the High Chief Commander of the Citizens' Anti-Strike Committee?"

With a gasp, I acknowledged being the person referred to.

The entire procession had now come to a halt at a distance of about twenty feet, and I could see how the three First Class citizens were turning their telescope-like eye-pieces in my direction.

"You have done a noble service in the cause of your country and of the First Class," continued my interlocutor. "I shall not question you too much on your methods, lest they prove, well—shall we say in violation of the letter of the Criminal Code? Allow me to introduce myself, sir, as the thirteenth Vice-Executive Director of the Ventilation Company."

Once more I bowed low, taking care to sweep the floor with the palm of my hand.

"And I," testified the second First Class man, also through a megaphone, "am one of the seventeen Political Settlers of the Ventilation Company."

"Political Settlers?" I questioned, again performing a perfunctory bow.

"Yes, indeed!" stated the man, looking a little offended at my ignorance. "Very important work we do, too! It is our business to settle things with politicians and political job-sellers."

"And I, sir," the third of my First Class visitors informed me with a blare of his megaphone, "am the Senatorial Representative of the Ventilation Company."

"Senatorial Representative?"—after another bow.

"Of course! I am the delegate elected by the Ventilation Company, in accordance with law, to represent its interests in the Senate. Don't you know, sir, that every concern doing a business of more than eleven millions annually is expected to have a representative in the Senate?"

Knowing nothing of this matter, I thought it best to change the subject. "And to what, gentlemen," I inquired, "do I owe the honor of this visit?"

It was the thirteenth Vice-Executive Director that undertook to reply.

"You may well ask that question, sir. Not once in ten thousand wakes is a Third Class citizen, such as you appear to be, flattered with a visit from the First Class. But your case, sir, is exceptional. Owing to your unusual services on behalf of the anti-strikers, we have been appointed by the Directors of the Ventilation Company as a committee of three to express our personal approval and appreciation."

"I thank you, gentlemen," said I, once more bowing low, but wondering if my visitors had gone through all this hocus-pocus merely in order to express an empty approval.

"You are the sort of man, sir, that the Company likes to have in its employ," announced the Political Settler. "Your talents are being wasted—thrown away—here in this Third Class office. We have decided to elevate you to a more worthy post."

"Yes, sir," the Senatorial Representative took up the report, "we will appoint you to the Engineering Department. As Ventilating Engineer, you will have two thousand men under your employ, who will be subject to your orders in all things. This is how we will show our appreciation!"

This time, when I bowed to the floor, it was as an expression of sincere gratitude. I could scarcely believe that such a magnificent promotion awaited me!

"There is only one difficulty," the thirteenth Vice-Executive Director bewailed, shaking his head ruefully. "The law forbids an appointment to the Engineering Department to any one except a First or Second Class citizen."

At these words, my heart sank within me. From the beginning, I had felt that the promised appointment was too good to be true. "Well, I don't insist on remaining Third Class!" I groaned.

The Political Settler beamed upon me, and drew his eye-pieces a little closer against his weazened face.

"That's just what I was thinking!" he declared. "I knew you wouldn't insist on remaining Third Class! Well, where there's a politician, there's a way—as the ancient saying goes. The law, to be sure, distinctly says that no Third Class citizen may ever become Second Class; but we'll get around that by proving to the courts that you really were Second Class all along. Leave that to me, sir—as a Political Settler, that's my specialty!"

I bowed gratefully once more, and assured the man that I had always felt misplaced in the Third Class.

But even as I spoke, doubt overcame me. What if there were some hidden flaw in the offer? What if I should have to pay a heavy fee for being made Second Class, or should be taxed beyond my capacity? And so I promptly made inquiries on these points.

If it had been possible for First Class citizens to laugh, my hearers would surely have done so. As it was, their slender forms shook slightly in testimony to the merriment they felt, and a sound like a dry rattle issued from between their thin lips.

"Pay a tax for being made Second Class?" growled the Senatorial Representative, with the manner of one who has been insulted. "I should say not! Quite the contrary! My colleagues and I have taken care of that! Why, sir, you will get a tax refund for the taxes you paid in the Third Class!"

"Tax refund?" I demanded, thinking I had not heard rightly.

"Yes! You see, the principle is quite fair and simple," explained the Political Settler. "Taxation, as all authorities agree, should be placed where it bears least heavily. Now there are ten times as many Third Class citizens as First and Second class combined, so naturally they are much more able to bear the weight of taxation. Therefore all taxes are placed on the Third Class."

Now I had not always admired the logic of the chalk-faces; but on this occasion, seeing that I was about to be favored so richly, it seemed to me that their reasoning was perfect.

"Only one thing more!" continued the Political Settler. "There's the matter of your salary. Considering that you won't have any more taxes to pay, I trust you will find it sufficient to have your present remuneration quadrupled."

For a moment I stood gaping at my benefactor, wondering if he were trying to make sport of me. But my hesitation was strangely misconstrued.

"Well, sir, I don't blame you for being in doubt," sympathized the thirteenth Vice-Executive Director. "You really should get more than that, in order to keep up your position in the Second Class. I'll speak to the other Directors, and see if they can't do something better for you. Perhaps they'll consent to giving you an annual bonus. Meanwhile you may report for work the wake after next."

"Thank you, thank you exceedingly!" I acknowledged, bowing to the floor for about the twentieth time.

Then, while my visitors uttered sharp orders to their lackeys and wheeled ceremoniously away, I sank down upon my chair in a daze of astonishment. Certainly, if all that I had been promised should come to pass, I was the luckiest man in Wu!

CHAPTER XXIV

A Bold Stroke

The duties and obligations of my new position were formidable—if one looked at them merely on paper. I was the official possessor of seven titles and sub-titles, from Supervising Engineer to Sub-Director of the Airways; I was the occupant of a capacious suite of rooms, with a huge private office importantly marked "Hours by appointment only"; I had the promised two thousand employees, from office girls to "Ventilating Linemen," all of them strictly at my bid and call; and I was provided with whole libraries of literature and a list of "55 everyday rules," which, I was told, I must scrupulously follow.

However, I hardly glanced at these rules, and never so much as turned the pages of the instruction books; for I found that my assistants, at less than a tenth of my salary, did all the work, while my only task of any consequence was to sign my pay-check every five "wakes." This, naturally, left me with much time upon my hands; yet I did not waste my hours, but devoted them to enlarging my knowledge of the ventilation system, until there was no man in all Wu who understood the apparatus so thoroughly as I. It was not to be long before I should put my information to use.

In spite of my good fortune—good fortune that made me the envy not only of the Third Class but of thousands of Second Class citizens—I was still not contented, for there were many worries on my mind. One was the dread of encountering Loa, whom I had never seen since being declared eugenically unfit; I had, indeed, no intention of seeing her if I could avoid it, but from time to time I ran across her father, Professor Tan Trum, and always he would look at me with a reproachful air, and inquire, "Why don't you come around to the house sometime, my boy? Loa has been asking about you. Now that you are Second Class, like us, it can no longer be your Class delicacy that keeps you away." And always I would apologize, make some excuse—the pressure of work, etc.—and promise to pay him a visit as soon as I was able. But secretly I was trembling. Who knew but that Loa and her father would find some way of setting aside the eugenics provision?

This brings me to my second great worry. Day by day I was growing more weary of the Underworld and of its network of galleries and chasms illuminated with the weird greenish-yellow light; day by day I was becoming more hungry for a sight of the open earth and its blue skies, its stars and its sunlight and the faces of my own people. And my thoughts were constantly upon means and opportunities of escape. But I still was hopelessly imprisoned. More carefully than ever before, I took stock of my position and found that the only connection between the Underworld and the Overworld was by means of the ventilating tubes, some of which admitted the fresh air from above, and others of which were the outlets for used and vitiated air. But all these vents had been placed under a military guard, for fear of attack by Zu, and it was therefore impossible to approach them. Even could I have approached, however, it would have been doubtful if I could have climbed to safety through those steep and tortuous tubes.

Therefore I was forced to postpone hope of rescue till a remote and improbable future; and though the thought was never far from my mind, I gave myself to more immediate concerns.

Before I had been Ventilating Engineer for many "wakes," I began to turn my attention to a project so vast, so ambitious, so astonishing in its possibilities that I might have been deemed a madman merely to conceive of it. It was the Ventilation Strike which had first put the idea into my mind; and while in the beginning it had seemed too fantastic for consideration, the idea kept recurring and haunted me by day and in my dreams, until at length I weighed its advantages dispassionately, and decided that it was not so impractical as it had seemed. And thereupon I took the first steps toward that upheaval later known as the Ventilating Revolution.

Had it not been for a discovery which I had made a few days before, the Ventilating Revolution would not have been possible. During my investigation of the air system, I had come across a certain little wheel, rusty with age and disuse, which I had turned with surprising results. Upon being jerked slightly to the right, this wheel set into operation an electric current which released a steel partition in the central ventilating tube, blocking the channel somewhat as the human breathing apparatus would be blocked by a pebble in the windpipe. It was quite by accident that I had made the discovery, and at first I had merely amused myself by choking the ventilation for periods of a few seconds each—not long enough for the effects to be noticed.

But gradually, as I toyed with the wheel, a startling realization came to me. Its rusted condition showed that it had not been used recently; indeed, it may have been neglected for decades or even for centuries. Was it not likely that the chalk-faces, because of their inability to see clearly close at hand, had overlooked its existence? Was it not conceivable that their ancestors, whose eyes had been less subject to that paralysis of the muscles of accommodation which came of a prolonged underground life, had been better able to see things close at hand, and had made use of this little wheel, whose very existence and purpose were now unknown and forgotten?

So I asked myself; and later experience was to give me an affirmative answer.

The wheel, located in an unfrequented side-gallery a few hundred yards from my office, now became the crux of a daring scheme. Suppose that I were to stage a private strike? Suppose that, on my own account, I should turn off the air-supply? Suppose that I were to deliver an ultimatum to the rulers, demanding some supreme prize for myself—yes, even demanding that I be made First Class, and be given an important post in the Government! More than that! Why should I not myself take control? Why not displace Thuno Flâtum? Certainly, I could not be less fitted to rule!

To such dizzy heights did ambition lead me! As I have already said, I dismissed the idea at first as impractical—preposterous! Yet gradually, despite myself, I was captivated. Did I not have all resources at my disposal? Would not the people be helpless once their air had been shut off? Would they not grow as panicky as during the recent strike and gladly grant anything I asked?—and would I not be helped by the reputation which those anti-strike organs, the Blare and the Screamer, had unwittingly built up for me?

Besides, was not my present position ideal for success? Two thousand ventilating employees, being subject to my orders, would follow wherever I led; for such was their state of thoughtlessness that they would act first and inquire afterwards, if at all, and would not know whether they were shutting off the air-supply or turning it on.

Despite all these advantages, however, there were scruples and doubts that preyed upon my mind. Well I knew the results if my one-man strike should fail; I would be seized as a traitor to the Ventilation Company and sentenced to the violet ray! And even if the strike were to succeed—would it be worth the cost? For my own part, I could provide against the air-stoppage by supplying my office through a small pipe specially connected with the main ventilating artery; but the millions of common people would have no such protection, and, if the strike were long protracted, many of them might be stifled. On what grounds could I justify such loss of life?

The answer, however, was ready at hand. Could I attain my objective and supplant Thuno Flâtum as Dictator, I would take steps to end the war with Zu—in fact, to outlaw war forever—and the millions of lives thus saved would far outbalance the paltry few destroyed by the lack of ventilation. "The gain justifies the means!" I told myself, quoting an old adage of the chalk-faces; and, fortified by this high moral axiom, I decided to take the plunge.

The following day all Wu was thrown into a furor. Another ventilation strike had been declared, stated the Blare and the Screamer in a series of "Super-extra-extras." The air-supply had been cut off entirely—and no one knew who the strikers were or what they demanded. It was suspected that spies from Zu were behind the plot.

CHAPTER XXV

Insurrection in the Air

Two "wakes" had gone by without ventilation. The land of Wu was in a state of profound disorder—disorder compared with which the disturbances of the previous strike were as nothing. Once more business had come to a standstill; once more the thoroughfares, usually crowded, were almost deserted by the "scootscoots"; once more the chalk-faces stood about in little knots, anxiously talking, their drawn features and worried eyes bearing testimony to the concern they felt. But now the temper of the masses was much uglier than before. On the former occasion, they had been fighting for a principle, and public opinion had been with the strikers; but the present outbreak did not seem to involve any principle at all. It meant merely suffering, loss, and danger without any corresponding gain, and the people were both frightened and indignant, and in their anger and fear they had no hesitation about blaming the government for their trouble, on the theory that governments should know how to rectify all unknown ills and cataclysms.

Consequently the Second and Third Class citizens, though usually meek as babes owing to their thoughtlessness, were becoming unruly and rebellious. They gathered in wild bands and processions, parading through the First Class districts and shouting, "We want air! We want air!" They stormed at the doors of the Ventilation Company, and even at the palace of Thuno Flâtum and demanded, "Air for our children! Air for our children!" They grew so bold as to flaunt placards, "A new deal in air!" "Give us a safe and sane air administration!" and "We stand for public ownership of the air!" And as if such radical declarations were not sufficient, some of the ardent air-lovers burst out in riots, wherein, on several occasions, the stone columns of First Class dwellings were scarred and damaged, and more than one First Class citizen was made to flee for his life. The insurrectionists, to be sure, were always suppressed by the police, who, with rare good marksmanship, boasted a 98% record of hits against rebellious backs; moreover, they made excellent use of the "sneeze-gas bomb" (a clever little weapon which produced a thousand sneezes to the milligram). Yet in the face of all such discouragements, the rebel tide was rising, and the authorities were frankly worried.

Now I must confess that, after two "wakes," the state of the public galleries was deplorable. The atmosphere, stagnant, hot, and heavy, reminded me of nothing so much as a New York subway at rush hours; the odors were such that one would have held one's nose had it been possible to do so and breathe; the depletion of the oxygen had advanced so far that many persons were complaining of headaches, while many others felt as languid and dull as if they had been drugged. Plainly, matters were becoming serious—so serious that even I, when I stepped out now and then into the public corridors in order to sample the air, winced and shuddered and wondered if I had not carried things too far.

But grave though the situation was becoming, there was now no turning back. Either I must carry the strike to a successful culmination—or else I must fail beyond hope of recovery.

While the whole country was being reduced to a state of acute distress, no one as yet suspected the source of the trouble. Yet, all the while, I was secretly moving toward my objective. As soon as the strike began, I dispatched a message to Dictator Thuno Flâtum through one of those pneumatic tubes which provide automatic mail service throughout Wu; and since there was no way of tracing any letter back to its point of origin amid the ramifications of the postal system, I knew that I was perfectly safe in this course. And, at the same time, I took care that Thuno Flâtum's reply should reach me in a manner equally safe.

The following was my message:

On the following "wake" I dispatched a similar message, and again on the third "wake"; while Thuno Flâtum, with characteristic stubbornness, still withheld his reply. He had had the poor discretion, however, to give out my letters to the newspapers (or, rather, his secretary had had such poor discretion, for Thuno Flâtum was known to be too busy fishing ever to read his correspondence). Hence both the Blare and the Screamer, on three successive "wakes," reproduced my communications in full, commenting that they were manifestly the work of a madman who should be hunted by the police and sentenced to the violet ray. Subsequent developments showed that the editor of neither paper suspected what an effect the public announcements were to have.

Meanwhile the officers of the Ventilation Company, driven almost insane by the failure of the air-supply, had turned from their customary task of counting dividends in order to try to trace the reason for the lack of ventilation. All their inspectors and engineers were made to work overtime; I myself, much to my amusement, was instructed to exert myself diligently to locate the trouble; and, of course, I made a great show of seeming to comply, and bustled about my headquarters officiously, flinging out orders by the dozen, and sending off my subordinates to search in places where, I knew, they would find nothing. That the cause of the air-stoppage would not be discovered seemed a foregone conclusion; for the chalk-faces, thanks to their inability to see clearly close at hand, might search for years without being able to notice the all-important little wheel.

By the third "wake," the Directors of the Ventilation Company were in despair, Thuno Flâtum and the other high officers of the state were said to be wearing a worried expression; the Dictator had cancelled an engagement to play "poli-boli" (an athletic game, played with marbles, especially popular with First Class citizens); and riots were breaking out in scores of widely scattered places. Unless imminent relief were forthcoming, as the Screamer plainly hinted in an editorial, the "sneeze-gas bombs" would not be able to control the mobs.

At the same time, the Blare, in a front-page article, reversed its previous attitude, and advised the Dictator to see "the madman who insolently terms himself President of the People's Better Air Association." Conditions were becoming so critical, the paper pointed out, that it would be wise to clutch at any straw; indeed, the scarcity of air was ruining business, as was evident from the fact that bank clearings had gone down 75% in the past two "wakes." If the strike continued another three or four "wakes," the cost might well rise as high as 100,000,000 "silver fingers." The possible cost in life was not considered.

The argument of the Blare, as might have been foreseen, proved unanswerable. The people, loyal as always to the printed word, were clamorous in demanding that their Dictator see the "President of the People's Better Air Association"; and no one seemed to remember that only a few hours before, they had been equally clamorous in begging their Dictator to refuse the interview. But such little reversals of opinion were so common in Wu that I was not even surprised.

Immediately I began making preparations for that meeting which I now knew to be inevitable. It was not half an hour later when a new edition of the Blare declared that Thuno Flâtum was awaiting my visit, and, in fact, had high hopes that our interview would end the strike. And it was but a few minutes after reading this announcement when I set out on my private "scootscoot" for the palace of the Dictator.

I did not, however, go alone. To appear before the sovereign unattended did not seem either wise or safe, particularly since I had to present a proposal which, to say the least, was very bold. But who was to accompany me? This question was very simply answered. Had I not two thousand ventilation employees who were at my beck and call in all things? Why not pick an escort of, say, about three or four hundred?

To be sure, I did not wish to take any of my attendants into my confidence or let them suspect what I was attempting. But such was their stage of trained thoughtlessness that it was as easy to keep the truth from them as from a three-year-old. Besides, there was a clever little device which I might employ to prevent them from manifesting any spark of intelligence. This was in the nature of the drug already mentioned, the drug known as the "muffler"—which employers had been wont to feed to employees, and which, by paralyzing the cerebral centers, suspended all mental processes except the purely automatic ones, so that the victims could take orders with mechanical perfection, but were incapable of knowing, thinking, or feeling.

As the Ventilation Company, in the course of its business, always had a large supply of this drug on hand, I fed it to about 400 of my followers; and then, its action being immediate, I ordered them all to take their places at once in "scootscoots" and follow me.

With this magnificent array of supporters in my wake, I lost no time in setting off on my visit to Thuno Flâtum.

CHAPTER XXVI

Revolution

Realizing that I was attempting an experiment which might lead to disaster, I took one or two simple precautions before visiting Thuno Flâtum. The first was to disguise myself, for I did not want it known that it was a stranger, a foreigner, a "colored barbarian," who was challenging the throne of the Dictator. The disguise was accomplished simply enough, largely by means of some chalk-like powder, with which I made my face milky pale; in addition, I used a pair of heavy amber glasses, so as to conceal the gray of my eyes; and I steeped my hair in an ashen dye, in order to give it the complexion considered normal. Thus equipped, I was hardly to be distinguished from the average man of Wu.

But as I drew near the Dictator's headquarters, it occurred to me to take another precaution. Was I not in danger from fanatics who, furious at my interference with the air-supply, might waylay me and seek my life? With this thought in mind, I dropped back to a position toward the rear of the procession, after giving instructions as to where my henchmen were to proceed. And well that I did so! When we had come to within half a mile of that brilliant cavern where Thuno Flâtum held court, we were impeded by a rabble, partly curious, partly hostile, who flung stones and epithets, and distributed some "sneeze-gas bombs," by which half a score of my followers were disabled.

Fortunately, I myself emerged unharmed; and a few minutes later I arrived, with the majority of my followers, in that great hall which I so well remembered from my previous visit to the Dictator. As on the former occasion, the entrance was guarded by a row of soldiers with twenty-foot pikes and triangular helmets, who stood statuesque and stone-like, not making so much as a gesture upon our arrival; as on the former occasion, the walls were emblazoned with white, red, and yellow lights, with enormous dragon-shaped banners of green and vermilion, and with long lines of swords, pikes and helmets. And, also as on the former occasion, Dictator Thuno Flâtum sat before the rows of great mirrors on the raised platform, adorned with purple crest and a great string of rubies, while twenty attendants stood about, solicitous to watch every move and gesture of their imperial master.

But how different was this arrival from my previous visit! Then I had been forced to grovel and to approach the sovereign on all fours, waiting impatiently until his lordship should condescend to notice my existence. But today I marched boldly forward, with no hint of deference; and my attendants, reduced to such a state of thoughtlessness that they did not know themselves to be in the presence of Thuno Flâtum, unquestioningly followed my example. Not till I was at the very pedestal of the throne did I pause; and then it was without any sign of submission.

"Thuno Flâtum," I announced, with an abrupt bow, "here I am! I come at your summons, as the President of the People's Better Air Association!"

It was easy to see that my words had produced consternation. The helmeted guards, clearly revealed by their reflections in the mirrors, unbent from their stony rigidity sufficiently to allow the pikes to tremble in their hands; the body servants of Thuno Flâtum seemed paralyzed with amazement, and for the moment forgot their attentions to their regal master in order to stare at me in petrified unbelief. And a group of spectators, doing obeisance upon their hands and knees, collapsed with surprise, and did not regain their composure for many minutes.

Apparently never before had Thuno Flâtum been addressed so familiarly!

The monarch himself seemed dumbfounded and leaned forward in his chair until I feared he would fall out, staring at me with his binocular-like eye-pieces as if trying to see right through me.

It was a moment before any of his attendants could recover themselves sufficiently to lift the megaphone to his mouth.

"What is that you say?" he squeaked, when at length he was equipped with his speaking tube. "Do you know that you are addressing the Prime Dictator and High Chief Potentate of Wu?"

"To be sure, Your Abysmal Excellency, that is why I am here," I returned, suavely. "It would hardly suit my purpose to waste time on any lesser official."

The "Prime Dictator" glared at me. Owing to the eye-pieces, the ear-pieces, and the nose-pieces that covered his face, it was impossible to see his expression clearly; yet I am sure he glared at me. And his puny little form shook with such a violence of wrath that not until his attendants had fanned him for five minutes and applied doses of cold water was he able to find words again.

"Who are you, to speak to me in this manner?" he at length demanded, in accents which showed that he had not pierced my disguise. "Your tones are the uncultivated ones of some Third Class viper! Do you not realize that you have been guilty of Contempt of the First Class—an offense worse than treason? Better men have been executed for less atrocious crimes!"

Exhausted with the effort of this long speech, Thuno Flâtum had to be fanned again by his lackeys and allowed several minutes in which to recuperate.

"What's to prevent me from punishing your insolence?" he finally resumed. "Suppose I order you to be violet-rayed? I've more than a mind to do so!"

Through the mirrors, I could see how the guards behind me began to creep forward, with their pikes pointed in my direction, as if eager to commit capital punishment upon me.

Though I could not repress a shudder, I knew that I had no course except to be bold. "Punish me if you wish, Your Abysmal Excellency," I challenged, "but my followers cannot be disposed of so easily. Those you see here are as nothing to the hosts waiting to avenge me."

"What do I care for your followers?" snapped Thuno Flâtum. "You cannot cow me with threats! Men of my Class have ruled for a hundred generations, and there has never been a revolt!"

"All the more reason that one is due now!" I insisted. "Remember, Your Abysmal Excellency, what power I hold! I am more precious to you and your people than a thousand times my weight in silver!"

Through the mirrors behind me, I could see that the guards were still creeping forward. Also, I could detect a gleam of mirth in the salmon eyes of some of the spectators, and realized that my words had been taken less seriously than I could have wished.

But my trump card was still up my sleeve.

"Remember, Your Abysmal Excellency," I warned, "only one man in all Wu is able to restore your ventilation. That man is I. If I perish, the secret perishes with me, and you will all be turned over by lack of air."

Half-suppressed groans from the spectators, and from Thuno's attendants, showed that this bolt had struck home.

"How do I know you speak truth?" demanded the Dictator, with a furious blare of the megaphone.

"Test me, Your Abysmal Excellency. If you will agree to my terms, I will restore the ventilation at any moment you stipulate."

"You talk like a madman!" barked my opponent through his megaphone. And then, after a moment's hesitation, "Still, there can be no harm in hearing your offer. If you do not keep your promise, there will always be time for punishment. What are your terms?"

For a moment I did not answer. I stood staring at the Dictator intently and was moved almost to pity for this contemptible being, with his shrivelled limbs and artificial organs. Nevertheless, I picked my words with the utmost caution, for I could see the guards behind me still creeping forward by inches, while my own followers made way before them; and I knew that the success or failure of my venture might depend upon my next utterance.

"Your Abysmal Excellency," I began, "according to all reports, you have ruled long and notably. You have performed great services for the First Class and for your country. But it is not fair that any man, however willing, be harnessed too long with the yoke of state. After a time, his shoulders should be relieved of the burden, so that he may enjoy the pleasures of private life. It is for this reason, Your Abysmal Excellency—"

At this point, my speech was rudely halted. A blast of the Dictator's megaphone rang through the audience-chamber as shrilly as a cry for help. And Thuno Flâtum, straining forward with quivering form and face that turned all colors from white to purple, staggered out of his seat in his rage, shook his midget fist at me, and collapsed.

It was several minutes before his attendants could fan him back to life and his thoughts could find expression.

"What!" he howled through the megaphone, after being restored to himself. "What is that you suggest? You impudent rat! Do you have the daring, the effrontery to ask that I—that I step down—"

Choked by the fury of his own words, he was unable to continue.

An uneasy glance at the mirrors showed me that the guards were still creeping up from behind, while my followers made way before them like sheep. I did not care for the looks of their long gleaming pikes, nor did I like the fascinated glances which the spectators were fastening upon the pike-bearers, as if awaiting some interesting exhibition.

Therefore I realized that I must lose no time. "Your Abysmal Excellency," I pleaded, hastily, "you have caught my idea. For the good of your country and the restoration of ventilation, it is time that you step down, and that I step up—"

By now the Dictator had regained his breath sufficiently to interrupt me by bellowing through the megaphone. "So, you insolent hound! Now we have your terms, have we? You would displace me on the throne! You would displace me—me Thuno Flâtum, the High Chief Potentate of Wu! Seize him, guards! Seize him!"

Before I had time to leap aside, I felt heavy arms about my shoulders and found myself pinned in the iron grip of three guardsmen.

Though ready to collapse once more with the effort of so much speaking, Thuno Flâtum was able to bawl once more.

"Take him away! Away! At once! Waste no time! I'll sign the death warrant!"

Vainly I strove to command my followers, to order them to my rescue. But, automatons that they were, they failed at the crisis; something had gone wrong with the operation of the drug, and they seemed powerless to obey.

As the guards started to drag me off, I saw how excitedly the Dictator's twenty attendants were laboring to restore him to life.

"One minute!" I shouted to the guards. "I must have another word with his Abysmal Excellency!"

The guards stood hesitating. One of them pulled rudely at my shoulders, while I repeated the request; but the others seemed doubtful, and by virtue of loud appeals I was able to restrain them until Thuno Flâtum had recovered.

"Take him away! Away! At once!" reiterated the ruler angrily through his megaphone. "I'll sign the death warrant! We'll kill him by inches with sulphur fumes—"

While the guards started to drag me away once more, and my mind conjured up visions of suffocation by sulphur, I cried out in a last desperate plea.

"One minute, Your Excellency! Remember, if I die, you all die too! Without me, the air will remain off forever!"

"Without you, the air will remain off forever?" echoed Thuno Flâtum. "Then let it stay off! What do I care? Have I not my oxygen tanks?"

And derisively he pointed to the steel tanks connecting with his breathing tubes.

Quick as a flash, I saw my opportunity. "So you would breathe while your people smother?" I demanded. And then, turning to the guards, "Do your duty, men! Take me away! Thuno Flâtum, your master, will still breathe oxygen, while you will all smother!"

The effect of these words was electrical. One of the guards, releasing me with a hurried gesture, reached for his three-pointed helmet and flung it off, to reveal a gasping, perspiring individual close to the last stages of exhaustion.

"I'm through!" he groaned. "By the gray hairs of my ancestors, I'm through! For wakes and wakes I've been suffocating in this steel case! I'm not going to go without air altogether! Let some one else be turned over if they want! I'm going on strike!"

"So am I!" announced a second guard, snatching off his helmet.

"So am I!" snapped a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, until, in a moment, all the pike-bearers stood unhelmeted and rebellious. "I'm going on strike! On strike! On strike!"

"We want air!" one of them started the cry. And "We want air, we want air, we want air!" began to echo and reverberate throughout the whole great hall. And the guards, surging forward in an angry mass, lost all semblance of military order, but swung their pikes furiously in a chaos of rushing, pushing, scuffling, shouting forms.

For a moment, Thuno Flâtum was too thunderstricken for words. Then, as his attendants crowded about him protectively, I thought I heard his voice lifted during a momentary lull in the storm. "This is sedition! Sedition! I'll have you all violet-rayed! I'll have you all—"

But I did not hear the conclusion of the speech. Taking advantage of the hubbub, I had started hastily toward the door, ordering my attendants to follow.

An instant later, as I slipped into the safety of the passageway, I was aware only of the hoarse yelling of the guardsmen and of the confusion of waving pikes. At last the Revolution had begun!

CHAPTER XXVII

Triumph

Hardly had I escaped from Thuno Flâtum's audience hall when I noticed an athletic looking individual darting from the direction of the throne-room. Breaking through the ranks of my followers in frantic agitation, he headed straight toward me; while I, imagining him to be an agent of justice, hastened my footsteps in the effort to regain my "scootscoot," which was waiting a few hundred yards away.

But my efforts were futile. I was too greatly impeded by my attendants, who had been reduced to such thoughtlessness that they would not get out of my way; and, try as I might, my pursuer was gaining upon me. "Wait a minute there! Just a minute!" he shouted, when he had come within a few dozen yards. "Just a minute! I've something to tell you!"

But, of course, the only effect was to spur my flight.

Nevertheless, he finally caught up with me, puffing and panting prodigiously, just as I had reached my "scootscoot" and was about to dash away. And only then, as I turned in alarm to confront him, did I recognize the official yellow badge of the press!

"I represent the Screamer!" he gasped, when he had halfway regained his breath. "Let me have your story! Quick! The Blare man will be here any minute!"

Surely enough, another individual, racing toward us from far down the gallery, proved to be a reporter for the Blare!

All at once I realized how foolish my flight had been. Though still in a hurry to get away, I could find time to present my story to both newspapers, with a wealth of detail. Although I did not quite foresee the results, I already had a suspicion that the Blare and the Screamer would prove my salvation.

In less than an hour the new editions were on sale, competing with one another in the sensationalism of their reports. "Air special! Air special!" I heard the newsgirls crying from the court outside my apartment window, as I paced back and forth, trying to decide on my next action. "Insurrection in the guards! Thuno Flâtum defied! Mysterious stranger demands throne as price of air! Read all about the great rebellion! Super-super-extra-extra! Super-super-extra-extra!"

Naturally, I rushed out into the gallery to buy a paper, but was able to do so only with the greatest difficulty, for people were flocking from all sides to get copies, and supplies were soon exhausted. However, I did manage to get a Screamer, and this is what I read:

INSOLENT STRANGER CHALLENGES THUNO FLÂTUM

MAN IN AMBER SPECTACLES WARNS, "MAKE ME DICTATOR, AND I RESTORE AIR"

Guards in a Commotion! Back Claims of Audacious Intruder!

There followed a highly colored account of the day's events, in which I was described as a "madman seeking to start revolution," while Thuno Flâtum was represented as "defending his position with the indomitable might and valor for which the First Class is so justly noted." It was admitted, however, that I was formidable, being backed by an army variously estimated as between ten thousand and a hundred thousand fanatics, of whom several thousand had accompanied me to the Dictator's throne-room. In the face of such a menace, Thuno Flâtum was more than courageous—so the papers said—to resist my demands, even though the country should have to remain unaired for a few "wakes" more.

As I glanced up from the paper, I could see that the people around me were profoundly affected by the news. For once, it seemed, an action of Thuno Flâtum had not met with unquestioning approval....

"What's that?" I heard a chalk-face to my left growling savagely. "So we're to remain without air? Meanwhile the First Class can breathe from oxygen tanks! Let's have air, I say! Air, air, air! What do I care who's on the throne, so long as we can breathe.... Tell me, what do you think, brother?" he demanded, turning in my direction.

"I thoroughly agree!" said I.

"So do I!" exclaimed an indignant voice from our right. "The children haven't had a good clean breath for three wakes! Let Thuno Flâtum's own children be turned over, if he likes! I want air for mine!"

"So do I! So do I!" other voices joined in. "Air, air for our children!" And hundreds enthusiastically echoed this sentiment.

I was not unprepared for the events of the next few hours. Toward the close of the "wake," I went out to stroll along one of the main galleries; and, seeing a crowd assembled in a great open chamber or public square, I hastened forward with the feeling that extraordinary news was abroad. Nor was I mistaken, although at first, amid the babbling of many tongues, I was unable to discover what had happened. All that I knew was that the people were gathered about in groups, chattering excitedly, and that the words "Thuno Flâtum! Thuno Flâtum! Thuno Flâtum!" mingling with cries of "Air! Air! Air!" occurred again and again. But though I accosted many persons in my eagerness for information, none would take time to answer by more than mumbled, incoherent phrases.

Yet by mixing with the crowd and listening, I managed to hear some tell-tale remarks.... "Why, I thought Thuno would rule forever!" one voice exclaimed: .... "Where did he run to?" demanded another.... "I don't know. They say he's hiding in the Third Class basements!" contributed a third.... "But I've heard he's gone fishing!" a fourth added.... "Who's at the head of things now?".... "No one, they say, till we get the air back."

From these scraps of conversation, one fact at least was plain. But who had overthrown the Dictator? And was his fall actual or but a ruse?

Gradually, however, other details became evident. Led by the revolting guards, a mob had stormed Thuno Flâtum's palace, demanding immediate air, even though the Dictator must retire in favor of "the mysterious stranger with the amber glasses." And when the ruler had refused, the tempest of resentment had risen and forced him to flee.

It was but a short while later when, as I had expected, the Blare and Screamer came out with new editions. Their version, however, differed considerably from what I had just heard. For the benefit of his health, which had been affected by the strain of duties of state, the Dictator had been advised by his physicians to take a brief vacation, his whereabouts being concealed so that he might enjoy the greater seclusion. Both papers ended with the pious hope that their good sovereign might speedily recover.

But both, at the same time, suggested that if the self-termed "President of the People's Better Air Association" would restore the ventilation without further delay, he would find the people ready to grant any reasonable demand.

Acting upon this hint, I dispatched immediate letters to both newspapers. At precisely four hours and a quarter after the beginning of the following "wake" I would turn on the air. And, exactly one hour and a quarter later, I would appear in the Dictator's throne-room, where Thuno Flâtum's guards might identify me as "the mysterious stranger" of the amber spectacles. I would, of course, claim my reward immediately, and would make no guarantee for the continuance of ventilation unless all my demands were granted.

Having dispatched these messages, I yawned and settled down for a good night's sleep. I had need of rest, for tomorrow, I knew, might be one of the crowning days of my career.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Luma the Illustrious

The following "wake" I arose early, since there were many things to keep me busy. First of all, I carefully prepared a speech and wrote a letter, which I secreted in my pocket for use later in the day; next I resumed my disguise, with the amber spectacles, the gray-dyed hair, and the chalk-colored face; and then, taking care not to be seen, I made my way to the side-gallery containing the rusty old wheel that controlled the country's ventilation. There I waited, watch in hand, and at precisely the promised minute, I gave a turn to the wheel, and was instantly rewarded by feeling an invigorating breeze.

Now, hastily, I made my way in a "scootscoot" toward Thuno Flâtum's palace, where I was expected an hour and a quarter later. Gathering a hundred ventilating employees about me, and ordering them to keep closely at my side, I acquired a bodyguard suitable for the royal position I hoped to assume; and, with these surrounding me, I hastened to keep my appointment.

As we sped through the various corridors, I noticed that the air was again in motion, that the heavy depressing atmosphere of the past few days was already being dissipated. And the people, observing the change, were crowding out of their homes in throngs, shouting and screaming at the tops of their lungs, "The ventilation! The ventilation! The ventilation has been restored!"—while in their jubilant excitement, they waved banners and blew horns and beat drums and distributed showers of little colored paper like confetti—behaved generally like school children at a festival.

Drawing near the Dictator's palace, we were impeded by the multitudes who came forth to greet us, shouting and gesticulating and executing little whirling dances to show their pleasure. All along the galleries they flaunted flags and placards bearing curious inscriptions: "Our kingdom for a breath!"—"We demand our daily air!"—"Air for all classes!"—"By air, and air only, shall we be ruled!"—"Where the ventilation fails, the people perish!" and—last, but not least—one that I may translate freely as follows, "Who steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good air has left me poor indeed!"

It was with difficulty that I made my way through the long gallery to Thuno Flâtum's throne-room, for the crowds, recognizing me by the amber glasses, insisted in pressing all about us. Only the protective screen of a hundred attendants saved me from being crushed to death or torn limb from limb in the people's eagerness to catch a glimpse of me and show their appreciation.

At length, however, I did reach the throne-room, where the guards acknowledged my presence by bowing till their palms scraped the floor, in the established fashion. As befitted a superior, I seemed not to notice their salutations, but strode at a slow and stately pace toward the center of the hall, and then, while thousands watched me in gaping amazement, I mounted the raised platform of red sandstone, and stood on the throne of the Dictator.

As I reached this regal eminence, suddenly someone waved his hands furiously and broke into cheers; and the multitude, accepting this as their signal, echoed the cries in a roar of acclaim that did not die down for many minutes.

It was long before, by flinging both arms high in air and shouting, I was able to bring order to the gathering and to launch forth upon the speech I had prepared.

"Fellow citizens of the First, Second, and Third Classes," I began, "this is indeed an auspicious occasion. For the first time in more than three wakes, we can all breathe freely again. At great cost of personal sacrifice and labor, I have found a way to turn on the ventilation—"

At this point another salvo of cheers broke forth, combined with a pandemonium of stamping feet, by which my hearers sought to emphasize their applause.

"At great cost of personal sacrifice and labor," I resumed, "I have saved you all, my fellow citizens. For this service I claim no personal reward, for the satisfaction of rescuing my countrymen will always be sufficient compensation. However, I have a message to deliver. It is from your Dictator, his Excellency, Thuno Flâtum."

The throng had all at once become silent; several thousand pairs of eyes and ears strained forward eagerly, intently, while, with a flourish, I removed a silver-sealed document from an inner pocket.

"Here is a letter from Thuno Flâtum," I declared, well knowing that the people, being unable to see clearly close at hand, would have no way of detecting the falsehood. "Before I read it, let me introduce myself by the name which our beloved Dictator has always applied to me. I am called Luma the Illustrious."

"Luma the Illustrious! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah for Luma the Illustrious!" thundered the mob, while hundreds bowed in token of obeisance. "Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" And from the rear of the hall there came a flaunting of green and vermilion banners, in testimony to the patriotic significance of the occasion.

"Now listen carefully to the words of Thuno Flâtum!" I shouted, unfolding the letter I myself had written a few hours before.

And when the crowd had once more grown silent, I read in sonorous tones: