Along the front of the buildings ran single tracks, connecting at regular intervals with the streets beneath by means of elevators, which shot up and down continuously, bearing their freight. These tracks were placed above each other at ten-story intervals, so that there were three or four rows of these aerial streets, ranging from the ground to the upper portions of the buildings, all filled with travelers. The buildings, each comprising an entire block, the elevated streets, with their graceful bridges flung forth across the chasms, the absence of any of the old poverty and dirt, and that huge gathering of human beings, going about their business in so systematic a fashion, fascinated me, and even aroused my enthusiasm. Signs evidently indicated to persons approaching in airships the purpose of each building and landing-stage, but these were in characters entirely unintelligible to me. My companion stayed the vessel in the air and tapped me on the arm. I started, to see him regarding me with the same expression of humorous perplexity. “I must put you off here, friend,” he said. “I think I have done the best I could for you. You would have died in the forest, while here—well, there’s a chance for you. And it’s better to go to the leather vats for a few years than to die and go nowhere. I’ll know you if we meet again. What’s your name?” “Arnold Pennell,” I answered, clasping the hand that he held out to me. He almost jumped. “Don’t tell that to the Council, unless you want the Rest Cure,” he said. “Don’t tell them my name?” “Not both names, friend. You know what I mean. If you don’t know—” He shrugged his shoulders. “Mine’s Jones,” he said. “My father’s was Williams. My grandfather’s was Jones again. They say it’s one of our oldest names—common in the days before civilization. Now down we go.” The airplane swooped down and came to rest upon the roof immediately beneath us. On this I saw a number of men, apparently practicing gymnastic exercises; and hardly were we at a standstill when two of them came running up to us. They were clad in blue uniforms resembling that of the airscout, but instead of a swan each wore a shield-shaped piece of linen upon his back and breast. “What’s this?” they demanded in a breath, pointing at me and bursting into bellowing laughter. “One of your defectives,” answered Jones. “I found him in the forest while patrolling.” They rushed at me and dragged me from the airplane, swiftly patting me about the body, as if in search of weapons. Satisfied that I was unarmed, they turned to the airscout. “You’ll share the reward!” they cried, again simultaneously. “Keep it!” replied the airscout tartly, and rose into the air, waving me a cordial good-bye.