“Please,” said Mudge. “I have an appointment. Don’t be alarmed if I vanish. I’ll be back someday.” He looked around to fix the spot in his mind, feeling devilish for an instant.
He bowed to her. “I must leave—”
“But you’ll take cold,” she said, picking up a shawl of glowing material and throwing it about his shoulders.
“Thank you,” said Mudge, “and now I really must go.”
Again he bowed, and envisioned the classroom this time.
Whup!
The water dripped to the lecture platform and Mudge was really getting cold by now. He hauled the shawl more tightly about his arms and was aware of protruding eyes all through the hall.
The water dripped and dripped, and Mudge shivered again. He sneezed. It would be good—
“NO!” he shouted and everybody in the hall jumped almost out of their chairs.
Mudge turned to the president. “You see what you did?”
The president was cowed. But he picked up in a moment. “Did . . . did you see the dean?”
“No,” said Mudge. The warm room was drying his clothes rapidly, and he rolled up his sleeve so that he wouldn’t blot the paper. Feverishly, he began to evolve Equation D.
He almost knew why he was working so fast. He was wholly oblivious of the audience. Very well he knew that his life depended upon his solving Equation D and thus putting the negative dimension wholly in his control. His pencil flew.
The thought began to seep into his mind in spite of all he could do.
“NO!” he yelled.
Again people jumped.
There was a grunt at his elbow and there stood the dean. He had sand in his gray hair and he looked mussed up.
“So you got back,” said Mudge.
“It . . . it was terrible,” moaned the dean in a broken voice. “The—”
“Don’t say it,” said Mudge.
“Doctor,” said the dean, “I apologize for all I said to you.” He faced the crowd. “I can verify amply everything that has happened here tonight. Dr. Mudge is absolutely correct”—he paused to swab his face and spit sand out of his teeth—“about the negative dimension. I have the uneasy feeling, however, that it is a very dangerous dimension. A man might—”
“Stop!” said Mudge, loudly.
He was working at a terrific pace now, and the paper shot off the stand to the floor as he swept it aside. He grabbed a new sheet.
He knew he was working against death. Knew it with all his heart. That thought would not long be stayed. At any minute he might find out where he was that he dared never go—
Equation D was suddenly before him. He copied it with a weary sigh and handed it to the dean. “Read that before you get any ideas,” said Mudge.
The dean read it.
“Mars,” said Mudge.
Nothing happened.
The dean began to breathe more easily.
“Moon,” said Mudge.
And still nothing happened.
Mudge faced the audience. “Gentlemen, I regret the excitement here tonight. It has quite exhausted me. I can either give you Equation C and D or—”
“No,” said the dean.
“NO!” chorused the crowd.
“I’m frightened of it,” said the dean. “I could never, never, never prevail upon myself to use it under any circumstances less than a falling building. Destroy it.”
Mudge looked around and everybody nodded.
“I know this,” said Mudge, “but I will never write it again.” And so saying, he tore it up into little bits, his wet coat making it possible for him to wad the scraps to nothingness, never again to be read by mortal man.
“Gentlemen,” said Mudge, “I am chilly. And so if you will excuse me, I will envision my study and—”
Whup!
Lizzie was crying. Her big shoulders shook as she hunched over in the doctor’s chair. “Oh, I just know something will happen to him. Something awful,” said Lizzie. “Poor little man.”
“I am not a poor little man,” said Mudge.
She gasped as she stared up at him.
“My chair, please,” said Mudge.
She started to her feet. “Why, Henry Mudge, you are soaking wet! What do you mean—?”
He cut her short. “I don’t mean anything by it except that I fell in a Martian canal, Lizzie. Now be quick and get me some dry clothes and a drink of something.”
She hesitated. “You know you don’t drink,” she snapped—for a test.
“I don’t drink because I knew you didn’t like it. Bring me some of that medicinal whiskey, Lizzie. Tomorrow I’ll make it a point to get some good Scotch.”
“HENRY!”
“Don’t talk like that,” said Henry Mudge commandingly. “I am warning you that you had better be pretty good from now on.”
“Henry,” said Lizzie.
“Stop that,” he said. “I won’t have it. I refuse to be bullied in my own home, I tell you. And unless you are very, very good I am liable to vanish like that—”
“Don’t,” she begged. “Don’t do that, Henry. Please don’t do that. Anything you say, Henry. Anything. But don’t pop off like that anymore.”
Henry beamed upon her. “That’s better. Now go get me some clothes and a drink. And be quick about it.”
“Yes, Henry,” she said meekly. But even so she did not feel badly about it. In fact, she felt very good. She whisked herself upstairs and trotted down again in a moment.
She placed the whiskey and water beside his hand.
Henry dug up a forbidden cigar. She did not protest.
“Get me a light,” said Henry.
She got him a light. “If you want anything, dear, just call.”
“That I will, Lizzie,” said Henry Mudge.
He put his feet upon the desk, feeling wicked about it but enjoying it just the same. His clothes were almost dry.
He sank back puffing his cigar, and then took a sip of the drink. He chuckled to himself.
His mind had quieted down. He grinned at the upset owl. The thought which had almost hit him before came to him now. It jarred him for an instant, even made him sweat. But he shook it off and was very brave.
“Sun,” said Henry Mudge, coolly taking another drink.
Glossary
STORIES FROM THE GOLDEN AGE reflect the words and expressions used in the 1930s and 1940s, adding unique flavor and authenticity to the tales. While a character’s speech may often reflect regional origins, it also can convey attitudes common in the day. So that readers can better grasp such cultural and historical terms, uncommon words or expressions of the era, the following glossary has been provided.
Aldrich Deep: deeps are areas of the ocean over 3,000 fathoms (18,000 feet) deep. The Aldrich Deep, located east of New Zealand and nearly the size of Australia, is one of the largest and is named after Admiral Pelham Aldrich who measured its depth in the 1800s. The Aldrich Deep has been measured at 5,155 fathoms (30,930 feet).
blood-laking: causing blood to pool in the lower parts of the body, thus denying blood to the brain, often resulting in a person fainting or passing out. Blood-laking can be triggered by fear, bad news or unpleasant sights, the resultant shock creates a nervous system reaction that produces temporary dilation of blood vessels, reducing the blood supply to the brain.
CA: Civil Affairs.
catalyst crystals: crystals or minerals that cause or accelerate a chemical reaction without themselves being affected.
city room: the room in which local news is handled for a newspaper, a radio station or for another journalistic agency.
crackbrain: a foolish, senseless or insane person.
cub: cub reporter; a young and rather inexperienced n
ewspaper reporter.
“dancing school”: another name for a brothel.
dissolution of Gaul: “Pop chose to attempt the dissolution of Gaul in the manufactures of Kentucky” is a play on words, meaning that he tried to drown his bitter feelings in whiskey. The two words are Gaul and gall. Gaul was a territory in western Europe, which was dissolved (brought to an end) militarily by Julius Caesar in the first century BC and eventually became a Roman province. Gall is something bitter or distasteful; bitter feeling. The “manufactures of Kentucky” refers to whiskey produced in Kentucky.
drays: low, strong carts without fixed sides, for carrying heavy loads.
Drive: referring to Riverside Drive in New York City, which runs parallel with the Hudson River.
Dutch, in: in trouble or disfavor (with someone).
epistemology: a branch of philosophy that investigates the origin, nature, methods and limits of human knowledge.
goonies: stupid or foolish people.
hawser: a thick rope or cable for mooring or towing a ship.
jackanapes: somebody who behaves like an ape or monkey.
Ketch, Jack: executioner; an English executioner in the 1600s, notorious for his barbarous inefficiency because he employed either very awkward or sadistic techniques and his victims were known to have suffered at their deaths.
key-jumpy: speaking in a tone of voice characterized by nervous or jittery variations in pitch.
Lake Tanganyika: a lake in central Africa. It is the longest freshwater lake in the world.
legman: a reporter who gathers information by visiting news sources, or by being present at news events.
loon: a crazy person.
manufactures of Kentucky: whiskey made in Kentucky.
mean: unimposing or shabby.
mill: a typewriter.
morning star: a weapon consisting of a heavy ball, set with spikes and either attached to a staff or suspended from one by a chain.
Mountains of the Moon: a mountain range in central Africa, so called by the natives because of their snowcapped whiteness.
m’sieu: (French) Mr.
non-com: non-commissioned officer; an enlisted person of any of various grades in the armed forces, as from corporal to sergeant major.
obit-ed: a coined word meaning to write an obituary (a notice of a person’s death, often with a short biography, in a newspaper).
punch-drunk: befuddled; dazed.
Reds: Communists; also political radicals or revolutionaries.
Sea of Dreams: a large dark plain on the far side of the moon that was mistaken by early astronomers for a sea.
semaphores: any of various devices for signaling by changing the position of a light, flag, etc.
senicide: the killing of old men.
snipes: cigarette butts.
Spinoza: Baruch Spinoza (1632–1677); Dutch philosopher. He claimed to deduce the entire system of thought from a restricted set of definitions and self-evident axioms.
spittoon: a container for spitting into.
stick: a very short article; from an early printing term “composing stick,” a hand-held adjustable metal tray in which one set type (a raised letter or other character cast in metal) into words and phrases for printing. One stick only held about ten or twelve lines of type, and a full-page article would be composed using many sticks of type.
swallowtail: a man’s fitted coat, cut away over the hips and descending in a pair of tapering skirts behind.
topee: a lightweight hat worn in tropical countries for protection from the sun.
wing collar: a shirt collar, used especially in men’s formal clothing, in which the front edges are folded down in such a way as to resemble a pair of wings.
Published by
Galaxy Press, LLC
7051 Hollywood Boulevard, Suite 200
Hollywood, CA 90028
© 2008 L. Ron Hubbard Library. All Rights Reserved.
Any unauthorized copying, translation, duplication, importation or distribution, in whole or in part, by any means, including electronic copying, storage or transmission, is a violation of applicable laws.
Mission Earth is a trademark owned by L. Ron Hubbard Library and is used with permission. Battlefield Earth is a trademark owned by Author Services, Inc. and is used with permission.
Cover art and Fantasy, Far-Flung Adventure and Science Fiction illustrations Unknown and Astounding Science Fictioncopyright © by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted with permission of Penny Publications, LLC. Horsemen illustration from Western Story Mag is © and ™ Condé Nast Publications and is used with their permission. Story Preview and cover art: Argosy Magazine is © 1936 Argosy Communications, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted with permission from Argosy Communications, Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN 978-1-59212-625-5 ePub version
ISBN 978-1-59212-332-2 print version
ISBN 978-1-59212-238-7 audiobook version
Library of Congress Control Number: 2007903531
Contents
THE TRAMP
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GLOSSARY
The Tramp
Chapter One
DOUGHFACE JACK unwedged himself from the rods with a startled grunt. He hadn’t looked for the fast freight to stop in a Podunk like this and the thought of bulls had no more than flashed through his mind when he saw some legs coming and stopping at intervals along the cars. From the stick he knew it was an irate brakie, already twice dodged en route.
Anxiously Doughface sought to scramble out from under and so make the other side of the train. But the engineer backed a few feet with a jolt and, not knowing if it would happen again, Doughface took his chance.
He rocketed like a rabbit to the cinders and got one awe-inspiring glimpse of the six-foot brakie. He started to run, but in the other direction came somebody with a sheriff’s paunch.
There was only one thing for it. The hounds had sighted the hare and Doughface couldn’t trust his short legs on the level. He grabbed the handholds and started up the car.
“Come back here!” bellowed the brakie.
“Stop!” roared the sheriff.
Doughface scrambled for altitude as heavy boots ground cinders just under him. He was panting as he made the top of the car. He glanced back to see that the brakie was coming up the same way and the sheriff had taken the other ladder. The sheriff had a gun in his hand.
Doughface took a sweeping look at the town he had uncovered. An old gent waited at the crossing in a Model T Ford. A sign said “Centerville, Population 2,000.” It was better than nothing. Doughface leaped for the other side and started down.
He would have been safe enough if his loose shoe sole had not jammed in the first rung. But jam it did and on that fact was to hang a national event.
He was still in sight on top and he yanked at the caught shoe. He heard a grunt and looked wildly about to see that the sheriff had made it.
“Stop!” bawled the sheriff.
Doughface almost had his shoe free. He gave one last yank and to the sheriff it appeared that the quarry was about to flee. He fired an intimidating shot
—but the effect was more brutal. The bullet took Doughface in the shoulder. It slammed him out into space. His shoe held for an instant, long enough to turn him upside down.
He went through space like a bomb. He saw the switch he would hit and tried to fend for his head.
And then the lights went out.
Simultaneously sheriff and brakie appeared at the top to stare down.
The sight below was not pleasant and the sheriff gulped, “I . . . I didn’t mean to hit him.”
“Hell, he had it coming,” said the brakie. “I got my orders. He was probably one of that gang of sneak thieves.”
“Yes,” said the sheriff doubtfully, “but . . . but maybe he wasn’t, too.”
The old man in the car had stopped his shaking machine. He reached hastily into the back seat and brought out a black bag and then, white hair streaming out from under his black slouch hat, he ran swiftly to the tramp. He gave one glance at the two on top of the car and the sheriff became red of face and nervously started to climb down.
The old man pulled Doughface away from the train and lifted his head for an inspection of the skull. The mass was as soft as a swamp.
The sheriff got down in confusion. “Hell, Doctor Pellman, I didn’t mean to hit him. I was just . . .”
“First time you ever hit anything in your life,” said Pellman. “Take his feet and put him in my car, Joe.”
The sheriff was like a schoolboy caught with an ink bottle and a girl’s braid. He gingerly picked up the tramp’s feet and together he and Doctor Pellman succeeded in placing the man in the Model T.
“Get in and hold him from bumping,” ordered Pellman.
Joe Bankhead cared more about the doctor’s goodwill than he did about the bloody mess. He obeyed.
Pellman started the Model T and swung it around. He pulled the hand throttle all the way down and the rickety old car went galloping through Centerville to pull to a shivering halt before the doctor’s office. The store loafers got up and peered interestedly.
“Been an accident?” they asked.