To which he enigmatically answered: “Great are the powers of radio.”
“Were you really on Venus?” I inquired, still incredulous.
“On my word of honor as a gentleman,” said he, solemnly.
So the story was true after all, and I had not been hoaxed. I heaved a sigh of relief.
It was soon arranged that he should return with me to the farm. Forgotten was my freight, as I hurried him to the dory.
As I helped him into the boat, I noticed that his left hand was bandaged, and asked him why.
“It happened night before last,” he answered laconically. “Man shot at me.”
And not another word would he speak until the dory was tied to its stake on the other side of the harbor, and we were chugging along the red road which runs east across Chappiquiddick.
“Now tell me all about it,” I begged. “How did you ever get back to earth, and how did you happen to come down here?”
Myles replied, “This is the way it was: After our conquest of the ant-men, I resumed my experiments with the wireless transmission of matter, which experiments had been so rudely interrupted by my accidentally transmitting myself to the planet Poros—Venus, as you earth-folk call it.