Author Description

This is written from memory, unfortunately. If I could have brought withme the material I so carefully prepared, this would be a very differentstory. Whole books full of notes, carefully copied records, firsthanddescriptions, and the pictures--that's the worst loss. We had somebird's-eyes of the cities and parks; a lot of lovely views of streets,of buildings, outside and in, and some of those gorgeous gardens, and,most important of all, of the women themselves.Nobody will ever believe how they looked. Descriptions aren't any goodwhen it comes to women, and I never was good at descriptions anyhow. Butit's got to be done somehow; the rest of the world needs to know aboutthat country.I haven't said where it was for fear some self-appointed missionaries,or traders, or land-greedy expansionists, will take it upon themselvesto push in. They will not be wanted, I can tell them that, and will fareworse than we did if they do find it.It began this way. There were three of us, classmates and friends--TerryO. Nicholson (we used to call him the Old Nick, with good reason), JeffMargrave, and I, Vandyck Jennings.We had known each other years and years, and in spite of our differenceswe had a good deal in common. All of us were interested in science.Terry was rich enough to do as he pleased. His great aim wasexploration. He used to make all kinds of a row because there wasnothing left to explore now, only patchwork and filling in, he said. Hefilled in well enough--he had a lot of talents--great on mechanics andelectricity. Had all kinds of boats and motorcars, and was one of thebest of our airmen.