AN ADVENTURE IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION
THE thought of meteors terrifies me. They have a disagreeable habit of coming down and killing people at the most inopportune times. That is why I was so startled when I saw a large object hurtling toward me out of the sky, as I was walking along the lake front recently in my city of Chicago.
I shivered. Was this the end? I began to say my prayers. To my astonishment, the onrushing missile struck the grass beside me without the slightest jar.
I gasped.
Thousands of singular objects began to detach themselves. They bounded from the mass, and suddenly increased in size from one inch to three feet in diameter. They were entirely round, and covered with teeth. On each tooth were ten ears, constantly in motion. Each ear carried a quizzical eye.
The dwarfish creatures rolled rapidly on the ground, the ears serving as legs, hands, tentacles and what not, propelling them with incredible speed. Sometimes they stood on only four or five of their ears, then suddenly pressed hard against the ground with half a thousand ears at once, thus bounding high into the air. They lit without jar, for the ears acted as shock absorbers and broke their fall.
"Surely these are explorers from Mars or Venus," I thought, as the funny bounding creatures filled the air.
"You are wrong. They are Jupiterians," said a voice beside me.
I recognized the voice. It was Professor Nutt. You probably know him.
"Ahem," he said. "Ahem, ahem!" And once more he repeated, "Ahem!"
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