Then, with the demeanor of a school-boy released for summer vacation, his huge frame trod lightly from the ship, and he ambled grotesquely amidst an almost fragile world.
With ecstatic delight he plucked brilliant, sweet smelling blossoms; plunged his face recklessly into the golden liquid that tumbled in miniature falls down a short sloping hill; marveled at the coolness, the exhilaration of it—and in the midst of this madness the idea struck him that this gleaming liquid was the aqua pura of this world. It took the place of water, in fact it seemed to have every attribute of water except for its golden color, and the few drops that had trickled between his lips left a pure, clean, sweet taste that could be described only by comparing it to the palate of a man, three days on the desert without a drink, suddenly being presented with a tall, cool glass of water.
It was becoming more and more noticeable that the color motive of this world was not so much green as it was golden.
And he wandered on. Far, far from the ship he strayed. As if possessed by a strange, uncontrollable mania he laughed and cried by turns. Sometimes he ran, sometimes he walked. Often he leaped incredible distances into the air—floating softly down—his two hundred and fifteen pound bulk landing with only the slightest jar.
And as suddenly as this crazy thing had come upon him it passed. He stood stock sober; the awful realization of the inconceivable risks he had run swelling his brain like a painful hangover.
That he was alive and apparently in good health was a miracle. The worlds where a native of Earth might cavort with reckless abandon and utter disregard for existing conditions were few and far between. Swift doom often descended upon those who made light of other worldly conditions.
Now he saw in every brilliant blossom a lurking death of hideous proportions. He examined their expansive golden-yellow blossoms with critical care. Many of the plants were predominantly blue. Blue and gold. Here flowers with tall, slender, graceful stalks moved gracefully to and fro in the soft breeze. There, gigantic blue plants towered far above his head, with stalks the thickness of trunks and blossoms the circumference of a water-wheel but, throughout, the idea of fragility persisted. And with it a gnawing doubt as to their innocent nature. It seemed more and more that the strange gas that permeated the air had its source here in those blossoms which grew in such abundance, with groves the thickness of forests, and a multiplicity that replaced trees, on this world at least.
He stumbled on, his hand wiping again and again at his face as if to scrape away a golden liquid which was no longer there.
He even breathed with fearful deliberateness—wracking his brain for all he knew and had heard of the effects and varieties of fatal gases.
But the luck of the gods was with him. No untoward symptoms appeared and as he made his way back to the ship his fears began to dissipate one by one and a new sense of reasonableness replace them.