“Where in the deuce do you think we are?” pursued Thorndyke with a grim smile.
“Haven't the slightest idea,” sighed Johnston, and he shuddered as he looked down the long white street with its borders of human faces.
Thorndyke was observant.
“There is not a breath of air stirring,” he said; “and yet the atmosphere is like impalpable delicacies to a hungry man's stomach. Look at that big tree, not a leaf is moving, and yet every breath I draw is as fresh as if it came from a mountain-top. Did you ever see such flowers as those? Look at that ocean of orchids.”
“They think we are a regular monkey-show,” grumbled the American. “Look how the crowd is gaping and shoving and fighting for places to see us.”
“It's your legs they want to behold, old fellow. Do you know I never knew you had such knotty knee-joints; did you ever have rheumatism? I wish I had 'em; they wouldn't put me to death—they would make me the chief attraction in the royal museum.” Thorndyke concluded his jest with a laugh, but the face of his friend did not brighten.
“You bet that medical examination meant something serious,” he said.
“Pooh!” and the Englishman slapped his friend playfully on the shoulder.
“Since I have seen that vast crowd of well-developed people, and remember what that medicine man said, I have made up my mind that we are going to be separated.” Poor Johnston's lip was quivering.
“Rubbish! but there comes the captain; put on a bold front; talk up New York; tell 'em about Chicago and the Fair, and ask to be allowed to ride in their Ferris Wheel—if they ain't got no wheel, ask 'em when the first train leaves town.”