Thus far our plans had been carried out like clockwork, and yet this fact made it seem all the more likely that there was trouble ahead. I was filled with suspense and excitement; and evidently my companion was under much the same strain, for she clung to my left arm with both her little hands. I could feel her heart beating heavily and rapidly against my side, and every now and then she would shiver, although the night was warm. I longed to draw her to me and comfort her, but the kerkool demanded all my attention; and besides she was a princess of the royal house of Cupia, and I—why, I was probably merely an educated animal.
Yet her intimate presence thrilled me, and her confiding trust gave me courage to face any dangers. No longer was she the haughty regal princess; she was now merely a very frightened little girl; and, manlike, I gloried in my protective strength.
It was a long time since I had taken an automobile ride with a girl. The night was warm and moist and fragrant, as are all nights of Poros. I had not been a drinking man on earth, and on the planet Venus I have never chewed the saffra root, but I can never wish for a more intoxicating and exhilarating experience than that ride through the warm fragrant velvet blackness of the Porovian night, with my princess snuggled close at my side.
There wasn’t much opportunity for conversation, however, for I was such a novice with these machines that I had to keep pretty much of my entire attention on the control levers and on the road ahead.
All went nicely until at a turn of the road I saw a Formian standing ahead of me, holding up one paw as the signal for us to stop. So I halted the kerkool.
“Who are you?” he asked.
But I had already prepared the replies to such an expected catechism, and so answered readily enough: “We are Jodek and Janek, students at the University of Mooni, now bound for the Royal University of Cupia.”
Jodek and Janek being two very common names on Poros, like Smith and Jones on the earth.
“This road does not run from Mooni,” said the sentinel, “but rather from Wautoosa; and I well know that there are no Cupians at Wautoosa.”
“Then that very piece of knowledge of yours,” I countered, “should convince you that we are not from Wautoosa. As a matter of fact, we are from Saltona”—which was the name of the farming village where I had hunted the whistling bees—“where we were sent by the university authorities to study a new breed of green cows which has been produced there. We left Saltona early this morning and came through Wautoosa about an hour ago. See, here is our pass.”