boards simultaneously, these boards being only imagined as one above the other; and the total dimensions of the cube used were four squares by eight by eight. It would require a supermathematician to play the game Shierstedt describes.
I am no world-beater at chess, although I play a fairly strong game, and it was perhaps only natural that Ashembe should prove so much my superior at this more virulent form of it.
The holiday over, Ashembe went to work on his machine again. It did not take him more than a couple of days to pass the helium we had on hand through the emanations from the mercury tube and store it in the point of the shell, and then he went to work on a small generator which was to furnish the current for the mercury tube he proposed to carry in the car, as the motor he had already made was to furnish power.
Meanwhile, I made a couple of trips to town, and mailed Merrick some of Ashembe's diamonds. Not indeed, his first effort—I had perhaps unwisely told the interplanetary traveler that the larger the stone, the more it was worth, and he had naively produced a huge rock all of six inches in diameter and of the purest lustre—quite enough to give us publicity for the rest of our lives. I buried the monster with some care, back in the woods. There's a fine shock awaiting the man who someday digs it out.
Even on the smaller stones that followed this experimental effort Merrick reported difficulties. Dealers, he said, were reluctant to handle such large and perfect diamonds without being sure of the pedigrees, and he was finally forced to consent to an arrangement by which they were to sell them for him on commission. The third shipment of helium came through with a note promising a fourth, and the days wheeled by to the middle of January.
Then events resolved themselves rapidly. I could see now that time was short, and the best thing to be done was to get Ashembe away before the police or other investigators came down on us. I laid the case before him; he agreed; and though doubtful of helium as a source of power and not entirely satisfied with the supply of it he had on hand, he began next morning to carry some of his supplies to the car and put the finishing touches on it, while I went in to Fort Ann to send off a final letter to Merrick, cancelling all orders for supplies.
However, neither of us had counted on the speed with which those normally elephantine gentlemen, the police, can move at times. As I stepped out of the postoffice after mailing the letter, I almost ran into old Marvin Pritchard, village constable. "Oh, Mr. Schierstedt," he said.
"Yes?" I said, bending down to strap on my ski.
"Can you come over to my place for a minute? There's something I want to ask you."
"What is it?" I asked, tightening the second strap and standing up. "I can't spare much time."
"Well, I wouldn't like to say right here, now. It's about a complaint I got."
"I'm in rather a hurry. Suppose we got into it tomorrow. I'll be in," I temporized, taking a step away.
" 'Fraid it won't wait, young man. Gov'ment business. Come—" I let him get no further; I turned suddenly and with both hands pushed—not struck him—violently in the chest. Over he went, into the high-piled soft snow, head and shoulders going right out of sight, feet waving grotesquely. I started, heading for the back of the houses, where the slope away from the town would give my skis a decided advantage over the pursuit in the deep snow.
"Stop!" I heard behind me as I cleared the edge of the house. "Stop! You're under arrest!" The end of the fence, sticking a post a few inches through the drift, and the crest of the hill. Would he shoot? More shouts behind. I was over the crest, and my skis began to gain a momentum of their own on the down-slant. I dared not risk a long look back, but cast a quick glance over one shoulder and caught a flashing glimpse of the cobbler-constable just floundering through the snow round the corner of the house, and
I am no world-beater at chess, although I play a fairly strong game, and it was perhaps only natural that Ashembe should prove so much my superior at this more virulent form of it.
The holiday over, Ashembe went to work on his machine again. It did not take him more than a couple of days to pass the helium we had on hand through the emanations from the mercury tube and store it in the point of the shell, and then he went to work on a small generator which was to furnish the current for the mercury tube he proposed to carry in the car, as the motor he had already made was to furnish power.
Meanwhile, I made a couple of trips to town, and mailed Merrick some of Ashembe's diamonds. Not indeed, his first effort—I had perhaps unwisely told the interplanetary traveler that the larger the stone, the more it was worth, and he had naively produced a huge rock all of six inches in diameter and of the purest lustre—quite enough to give us publicity for the rest of our lives. I buried the monster with some care, back in the woods. There's a fine shock awaiting the man who someday digs it out.
Even on the smaller stones that followed this experimental effort Merrick reported difficulties. Dealers, he said, were reluctant to handle such large and perfect diamonds without being sure of the pedigrees, and he was finally forced to consent to an arrangement by which they were to sell them for him on commission. The third shipment of helium came through with a note promising a fourth, and the days wheeled by to the middle of January.
Then events resolved themselves rapidly. I could see now that time was short, and the best thing to be done was to get Ashembe away before the police or other investigators came down on us. I laid the case before him; he agreed; and though doubtful of helium as a source of power and not entirely satisfied with the supply of it he had on hand, he began next morning to carry some of his supplies to the car and put the finishing touches on it, while I went in to Fort Ann to send off a final letter to Merrick, cancelling all orders for supplies.
However, neither of us had counted on the speed with which those normally elephantine gentlemen, the police, can move at times. As I stepped out of the postoffice after mailing the letter, I almost ran into old Marvin Pritchard, village constable. "Oh, Mr. Schierstedt," he said.
"Yes?" I said, bending down to strap on my ski.
"Can you come over to my place for a minute? There's something I want to ask you."
"What is it?" I asked, tightening the second strap and standing up. "I can't spare much time."
"Well, I wouldn't like to say right here, now. It's about a complaint I got."
"I'm in rather a hurry. Suppose we got into it tomorrow. I'll be in," I temporized, taking a step away.
" 'Fraid it won't wait, young man. Gov'ment business. Come—" I let him get no further; I turned suddenly and with both hands pushed—not struck him—violently in the chest. Over he went, into the high-piled soft snow, head and shoulders going right out of sight, feet waving grotesquely. I started, heading for the back of the houses, where the slope away from the town would give my skis a decided advantage over the pursuit in the deep snow.
"Stop!" I heard behind me as I cleared the edge of the house. "Stop! You're under arrest!" The end of the fence, sticking a post a few inches through the drift, and the crest of the hill. Would he shoot? More shouts behind. I was over the crest, and my skis began to gain a momentum of their own on the down-slant. I dared not risk a long look back, but cast a quick glance over one shoulder and caught a flashing glimpse of the cobbler-constable just floundering through the snow round the corner of the house, and
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