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Updated: June 28, 2025
It appeared that at a sale of condemned army goods held at the arsenal at Benicia, Señor Lopez had, through Scab Johnny, purchased two thousand single-shot Springfield rifles that had been retired when the militia regiments took up the Krag.
Gangnet's face was transfigured with an extraordinary spiritual beauty; he looked as if he had descended from heaven. "I understand nothing, except that I have no self any more. But this is life." "Is Gangnet expatiating on his famous blue sun?" said a jeering voice above them. Looking up, they saw that Krag had got to his feet. They both rose.
He now made out on the larger bottle the words "Solar Back Rays"; and on the other one, after some doubt, he thought that he could distinguish something like "Arcturian Back Rays." He looked up, to stare curiously at his friend. "Have you been here before, Nightspore?" "I guessed Krag would leave a message."
"That specimen goblin." Maskull waved him away with his huge hand. "Who are you, and how did you come here?" "Call up your friend. Perhaps he may recognise me." Nightspore had moved a chair to the fire, and was watching the embers with a set, fanatical expression. "Let Krag come to me, if he wants me," he said, in his strange voice. "You see, he does know me," uttered Krag, with a humorous look.
In my opinion it was wholly unnecessary, and yet I did not blame the army for thinking otherwise. After the war was over, when my private secretary, Mr. James H. LeRoy, was one day approaching Malolos, he was sternly commanded by a sentry to halt, the command being emphasized as usual by presenting to his attention a most unattractive view down the muzzle of a Krag.
Nightspore ate and drank little, but Maskull sat down with good appetite. There being no milk, whisky took the place of it; the nearly black tea was mixed with an equal quantity of the spirit. Of this concoction Maskull drank cup after cup, and long after the tongue had disappeared he was still imbibing. Nightspore looked at him queerly. "Do you intend to finish the bottle before Krag comes?"
"Why do you insist on this simile?" he asked. "Because it is apropos. Nightspore's quite right. That was Crystalman's face, and we are going to Crystalman's country." "And where is this mysterious country?" "Tormance." "That's a quaint name. But where is it?" Krag grinned, showing his yellow teeth in the light of the street lamp. "It is the residential suburb of Arcturus."
"I heard a voice up those stairs." "What did it say?" "That I am to go, but Nightspore is to return." Krag smiled. "The journey is getting notorious," he remarked, after a pause. "There must be ill-wishers about.... Well, do you want to return?" "I don't know what I want. But I thought the thing was curious enough to be mentioned."
"Yes, you fear you fear!" broke out Krag, in a highpitched, scraping voice. "You eternal loller!" Maskull kept looking from one to the other in amazement. There seemed to be a determined hostility between the two, which indicated an intimate previous acquaintance.
"Now that it's all arranged so satisfactorily," said Maskull, with a hard smile, "permit me to say that I don't desire any society at all at present.... You take too much for granted, Krag. You have played the false friend once already.... I presume I'm a free agent?" "To be a free man, one must have a universe of one's own," said Krag, with a jeering look.
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