"There," said Adonis, as he put the finishing touch to my costume.
"You look like a champion. Do you play golf, sir?"
"There's a difference of opinion about that, Adonis," I replied, my
mind reverting to the number of handicap matches I hadn't won. "Some
people who have observed my game say I don't. Have you links here?"
"Have we links?" he cried. "Well, rather. They're said to be the best
in the universe."
"And are they handy?"
"Very--in the season."
"I don't quite catch the idea," I said.
"Oh, sometimes the course is nearer than it is at others. Come here a
minute," he said, "and I'll point it out to you."
He drew me to the wonderful window of which I have already spoken, and
through the powerful glass pointed in the direction of Mars.
"See that?" he said.
"Yes," I replied. "That is Mars."
"Exactly," said Adonis. "Mars is the Olympian links. His distance from
here varies, as you are probably aware. When Mars is near aphelion he
is 61,800,000 miles away, but in his perihelion he gets it down to
33,800,000. That's why we have our golf season while Mars is in his
perihelion. It saves us 28,000,000 miles in getting there."
I laughed. "You call that handy, do you?" I said.
"Why not?" he asked. "It's a matter of five minutes on a bike, ten
minutes in the automobile, and twenty minutes if you walk."
"Of course, Adonis," said I, "I'm not so green as to swallow all that.
How the dickens can you walk through space?"
"You're vastly greener than you think you are," he retorted, rather
uncivilly, perhaps, for a valet, but I paid no attention to that,
preferring to take him, despite his menial capacity, in his godlike
personality. "I might even say, sir, that your greenness is spacious.
You judge us from your own mean, limited, mundane point of view. But
you needn't think because you earth people cannot walk on air we
Olympians are equally incapacitated. You can walk there in two ways.
One of these is to fasten a pair of ankle-wings on your legs; the
other is to purchase a pair of sky-scrapers. These are simple,
consisting merely of boots with gas soles. You inflate the soles with
gas and walk along. It's simple and easy, doesn't require any
practice, and as long as you keep up in the air and don't step on
church steeples or weather-vanes it's perfectly safe. Of course, if
you stepped on a sharp-pointed weather-vane, or a lightning-rod, and
punctured your sole, there's no telling what would happen."
"And how about the wings?" I asked.
"They're much more exhilarating, but a little dangerous if you don't
know how to use them," Adonis replied. "Flying isn't any easier than
roller-skating, and if you upset and get your head below your feet
it's extremely difficult to right yourself again. If you try to go out
there with ankle-wings, take my advice and wear a pair of small
balloons about your chest to hold you right-end upward."
"I'll remember," said I, somewhat awed at the prospect of trying to
walk through space with the aid of ankle-wings. "And how about the
bicycle?" I added.
"If you can ride a bicycle on an ordinary road you'll have no
trouble," he replied. "Keep your tires well filled with gas and avoid
headers. If I were you, though, at first I'd go out on the automobile.
It makes six round trips a day and it's absolutely safe. Being so high
up in the air might make you dizzy, and you might find the bicycling
too much for your nerves. After a little while you'll get used to
enormous heights, and then, of course, you can go any old way you
choose. The fare for the round trip is only fifteen hundred dollars."
"The automobile is in competent hands, eh?"
"Yes," said Adonis. "Phaeton has charge of it."
"Humph!" I sneered. "He's your idea of a competent driver, eh? He
hasn't that reputation on earth. Was it an untruth that credits him
with a fine smash-up when he tried to drive the chariot of the sun?"
"Not a bit of it," said Adonis. "That's all of it simple truth. I
happen to know, because I saw the finish of the whole thing myself,
and was one of the fellows who turned a fire-extinguisher on him and
saved him from being a total loss to the insurance companies. But he
learned his lesson. There's nothing like experience to teach caution,
and that little episode gave Phaeton caution to burn, if I may indulge
in mundane slang. He was guyed so unmercifully by everybody for his
carelessness that the first thing he did when he recovered was to
learn how to drive, and it wasn't six cycles before he was the most
expert whip in Olympus. He finally made a profession of it and
established a livery-stable. Then, when the automobile came in and
horses went out of fashion, he kept up with the times, and is to-day
in charge of all our rapid transit--he owns the franchises for the
Jupiter and Dipper Trolley Road, he is the largest stockholder in the
Metropolitan Traction Company of Neptune, Saturn, and Venus, and is
said to be the moving spirit back of the new underground electric in
Hades."
"I guess he'll do," said I, reflecting with admiration upon the
wonderful self-rehabilitation of one I had previously regarded as a
foolish incompetent.
"You won't have to guess again in this case," said Adonis, dryly.
"You've hit it right the very first time."
"Well, tell me about the links, Adonis," said I. "Getting there seems
to be an easy matter, but after you get there, how about the course?
Is it eighteen holes?"
"It is," said Adonis, "and of proper length, too, and splendidly
arranged. You start at the club-house right near the landing-stage and
play right around the planet, so that when you're through you're back
at the club-house again. At the ninth hole there is a half-way house,
where you can get nectar, and ambrosia, and sarsaparilla, and any
other soft drink you want."
"No hard drinks, eh?" I queried.
"Not at the half-way house," said Adonis. "We gods have too much sense
to indulge in hard drinks in the middle of a game. If you want hard
drinks you have to wait till you get back to the club-house."
"That is rather sensible," I said, as I thought of how a Martini
cocktail taken at the ninth hole had ruined my chances in the
Noodleport Annual Handicap last autumn. "But I say, Adonis," I added,
"did I understand you to say that you played all around Mars?"
"Yes--why not?" said he.
"Pretty long holes, I should say," said I. "Mars is four thousand
miles round, isn't it?"
"You _are_ an earth-worm," he retorted, forgetting his place wholly in
his scorn for my picayune ideas. "Calling a paltry four thousand miles
long--why, you can play around that links in two hours and a half."
"Indeed?" said I. "And how long may your hours be? Everything here is
on such a magnificent scale, I suppose one of your hours is about
equal to one of our decades."
"Oh no," said Adonis. "It isn't that way at all. Fact is, we make our
hours to suit ourselves. I am merely reckoning on a basis that you
would comprehend. I meant two and a half of your hours. Any
moderately expert player can play the Mars links in that time. Take
the first hole, for instance--it's only two hundred and fifty miles
long."
"Really--is that all!" I ejaculated, growing sarcastic. "A drive, two
brassies, an approach, and forty puts, I presume?"
"For a duffer, perhaps," retorted Adonis. "Willie Ph[oe]bus does it in
six. A seventy-five-mile drive, a seventy-mile brassie, a loft over
the canal for twenty-five miles, a forty-five-mile cleak, a
thirty-mile approach, and--"
"A dead easy put of five miles!" I put in, making a pretence of being
no longer astonished.
"That's the idea," said Adonis. "Of course, everybody can't do it," he
added. "And bogie for that hole is really seven. Willie Ph[oe]bus
played too well for a gentleman, so we made him a professional. He'll
give you lessons for a thousand dollars an hour, if you want him to."
"Thanks," said I. "I'll think about it. Can he teach me how to drive a
ball seventy-five miles?"
"That depends on your capacity," said Adonis. "Some of the best
players frequently drive seventy-five miles--the record is ninety-six
miles, made by Jove himself. Willie taught him."
"For Heaven's sake!" I cried, losing my self-poise for an instant.
"What do you drive with? Olympian Gatling guns?"
"Not at all," replied Adonis. "We use one of our regular drivers--the
best is called the 'celestial catapult.' Ph[oe]bus sells 'em at the
Caddie House for five hundred dollars apiece. If you strike a ball
fair and square with the 'celestial catapult,' and neither pull nor
slice, it can't help going forty miles, anyhow."
"And how, may I ask, do the caddies find a ball that goes seventy-five
miles?"
"They don't have to. All our balls are self-finding," said Adonis.
"The ball in use now is a recent invention of Vulcan's. They cost
twelve hundred dollars a dozen. They are made of liquefied
electricity. We take the electric current, liquefy it, then solidify
it, then mould it into the form of a sphere. Inside we place a little
gong, that begins to ring as soon as the ball lands. The electricity
in it is what makes it fly so rapidly and so far, and even you mortals
know the principle of the electric bell."
"Oh, indeed we do," said I, pulling at my mustache nervously. I was
beginning to get excited over this celestial golf. On earth I have all
of the essentials of a first-class golf maniac, except the ability to
play the game. But this so far surpassed anything I had ever seen or
imagined before that I was growing too keen over it for comfort. I was
in real need of having my spirits curbed, so I ventured to inquire
after a phase of the game that has always dampened my ardor in the
past--the caddie service. I did not expect that this could attain
perfection even in Olympus, and I was not far wrong.
"You must have pretty lively caddies," I threw out.
Adonis sighed. "You'd think so, but that's where we are always in
trouble. We've tried various schemes, but they haven't any of 'em
worked well. At first we took our own Olympian boys. We got the mother
of the Gracchi to lend us her offspring, but they weren't worth a rap.
Then we hired forty little devils from Hades, and we had to send them
back inside of a week. They were regular little imps. They were
cutting up monkey shines all the time, and waggled their horrid little
tails so constantly that Jove himself couldn't keep his eye on the
ball--and the language they used was something frightful. You couldn't
trust them to clean your clubs, because there wasn't any power
anywhere that could keep them from running off with 'em; and in the
matter of balls, they'd steal every blessed one they could lay their
hands on. We finally had to employ cherubs. We've about sixty of 'em
on hand now all the time, and they come as near being perfect as you
could expect. Ever see a cherub?"
"Only in pictures," said I. "They're just heads with wings, aren't
they?"
"Yes," said Adonis, "and, having no bodies, they're seldom in the way,
and some of the best of 'em can fly almost as fast as the ball."
"How do they carry the bags?" I asked, much interested.
"They hang 'em about their necks, just above their wings," Adonis
explained, "but even they are not perfect. They fly very carelessly,
and often, in swooping about the sky, drop your clubs out of the bag
and smash 'em; and they all look so infernally alike that you can
never tell your own caddy from the other fellow's, which is sometimes
very confusing."
"Still," I put in, "a caddie with no pockets is a very safe person to
intrust with golf balls."
"That's very true," said Adonis, "and I suppose the cherubs make as
good caddies as we can expect. Caddies will be caddies, and that's the
end of it. You can't expect a caddie to do just right any more than
you can expect water to flow uphill. There are certain immutable laws
of the universe which are as unchangeable in Olympus as on earth or
in Hades. Ice is cold, fire is hot, water is wet, and caddies are
caddies."
[Illustration: THE OLYMPIAN LINKS]
"Very true," said I, reflecting upon the ways of "Some Caddies I have
Met." "What do you pay them a round?"
"One hundred and twenty-five dollars," said Adonis.
"Cheap enough," said I. "But tell me, Adonis," I continued, "who is
your amateur champion?"
"Jupiter, of course," said Adonis, with an impatient shake of his
head. "He's champion of everything. It's one of his prerogatives. We
don't any of us dare win a cup from him for fear he'll use his power
to destroy us. That is one of the features of this Olympian life that
is not pleasant--though, for goodness' sake, don't say I told you!
He'd send me into perpetual exile if he knew I'd spoken that way.
He's threatened to make me Governor-General of the Dipper half a
dozen times already for things I've said, and I have to be very
careful, or he'll do it."
"An unpleasant post, that?"
"Well," he said, "I don't exactly know how to compare it so that you
would understand precisely. I should say, however, it would be about
as agreeable as being United States ambassador to Borneo."
"I'll never tell, Adonis," said I, "and I'm very much obliged to you
for our pleasant chat. Your description of the links has interested me
hugely. If I could afford a game at your prices, I think I'd play."
"Oh, as for that," said Adonis, laughing, "don't let that bother you.
Whenever you want to pay a bill here all you have to do is to press
the cash button on the teleseme over there, and they'll send the money
up from the office."
"But how shall I ever repay the office?" I cried.
"Press the button to the left of it, and they'll send you up a receipt
in full," he replied.
"You mean to say that this hotel is run--" I began.
"On the Olympian plan," interrupted the valet with a low bow. "All
bills here are of that pleasing variety known as 'Self-paying.'"
With which comforting assurance Adonis left me, and I started for the
dining-room, my appetite considerably whetted by the idea of a game of
golf over links four thousand miles in length with balls that could be
driven fifty or sixty miles, and cherubs for caddies, at no cost to
myself whatsoever.