The airship was a great delight to the inventive genius of Ultimus. He had it brought to earth on the shore and examined the engines and propellers, and its ingenious steering apparatus. The officer in charge of it was discreet and silent, a stiff martial gentleman whose intelligence and humanity were completely hidden by his uniform. He had brought a declaration to be signed by Ultimus, saying that he was a non-belligerent and did not represent any newspaper. For Siebenhaar he had brought a bundle of newspapers of every country so that he might read what the nations were saying of each other. At last Ultimus’ curiosity was satisfied, and he stepped into the observation car, the engines started purring and the great fish-shaped balloon rose into the air. Ultimus was surprised to see how little his island was and when they passed over into Fatterland he cried: “Why, there is room for everybody! How wrong I was to hate the Fattish for being so many! Why do not some of them come and live here if there is no room for them on their island?” “They’d have a warm time of it if they did,” said the officer. “Why? Don’t you like the Fattish?” “They are pirates and thieves. They are jealous of our honest commercial success. They and they only are responsible for this war. They have set half the nations of Europe to attack us, but they attack in vain. We are glorious warriors, but they are only commercial travellers.” “In Fatland,” replied Ultimus, “they say that they are glorious warriors, but you are only machines. And they say that you are jealous of their Empire, and for years have been planning to destroy their fleet.” “What nonsense!” said the officer. They had been thousands of feet in the air, often above the clouds. “We are approaching the western frontier.” They descended. A booming and roaring came up and a queer crackling sound. There were flashes of light and puffs of smoke, but nowhere were there signs of any men save far, far away on the roads behind the lines of smoke and flashes of light. “That,” said the officer, “is the war.” “But where are the men who are doing it?” The officer pointed to black zigzag parallel lines in the ground. “They are there. Those are trenches. They are impregnable. Years ago, at the beginning of the war there was some barbarous fighting with bayonets, but since we took up those positions there is nothing but what you see. Each year makes those positions stronger, nothing can move the armies from them. While the war lasts, they will be held. Is it not splendid? It is just the same on the eastern frontier, though the line there is a hundred miles longer. Ah! It is the greatest war the world has ever seen.”