Gladiator by Philip Wylie (recommended reading .txt) 📕

The very nascency of a fresh objective was accompanied by and crowded with new hints for himself and his problems. The expedition would take him away from his tribulations, and it would not entirely cut him off from his kind: Professor Hardin had both the face and the fame of a distinguished man.

A thought that had been in the archives of his mind for many months came sharply into relief: of all human beings alive, the scientists were the only ones who retained imagination, ideals, and a sincere interest in the larger world. It was to them he should give his allegiance, not to the statesmen, not to industry or commerce or war. Hugo felt that in one quick glimpse he had made a long step forward.

Another concept, far more fantastic and in a way even more intriguing, dawned in his mind as he read accounts of the Maya ruins which were to be excavated. The world was cluttered with these great lumps of incredible architecture. Walls had been builded by primitive man, temples, hanging gardens, obelisks, pyramids, palaces, bridges, terraces, roads⁠—all of them gigantic and all of them defying the penetration of archæology to find the manner of their creation. Was it not possible⁠—Hugo’s heart skipped a beat when it occurred to him⁠—that in their strange combination of ignorance and brilliance the ancients had stumbled upon the secret of human strength⁠—his secret! Had not those antique and migratory peoples carried with them the formula which could be poured into the veins of slaves, making them stronger than engines? And was it not conceivable that, as their civilizations crumbled, the secret was lost, together with so many other formulæ of knowledge?

He could imagine plumed and painted priests with prayer and sacrifice cutting open the veins of prehistoric mothers and pouring in the magic potion. When the babies grew, they could raise up the pyramids, walls, and temples; they could do it rapidly and easily. A great enigma was thus resolved. He set out immediately to locate Professor Hardin and with difficulty arranged an interview with him.

Preparations for the expedition were being carried on in an ordinary New York business office. A secretary announced Hugo and he was conducted before the professor. Daniel Hardin was no dusty pedagogue. His knowledge was profound and academic, his books were authoritative, but in himself he belonged to the type of man certain to succeed, whatever his choice of occupation. Much of his life had been spent in field work⁠—arduous toil in bizarre lands where life depended sometimes on tact and sometimes on military strategy. He appraised Hugo shrewdly before he spoke.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Danner?”

Hugo came directly to the point. “I should like to join your Yucatan expedition.”

Professor Hardin smiled. “I’m sorry. We’re full up.”

“I’d be glad to go in any capacity⁠—”

“Have you special qualifications? Knowledge of the language? Of archæology?”

“No.”

The professor picked up a tray of letters. “These letters⁠—more than three hundred⁠—are all from young men⁠—and women⁠—who would like to join my expedition.”

“I think I should be useful,” Hugo said, and then he played his trump, “and I should be willing to contribute, for the favor of being included, a sum of fifty thousand dollars.”

Professor Hardin whistled. Then his eyes narrowed. “What’s your object, young man? Treasure?”

“No. A life⁠—let us say⁠—with ample means at my disposal and no definite purpose.”

“Boredom, then.” He smiled. “A lot of these other young men are independently wealthy, and bored. I must say, I feel sorry for your generation. But⁠—no⁠—I can’t accept. We are already adequately financed.”

Hugo smiled in response. “Then⁠—perhaps⁠—I could organize my own party and camp near you.”

“That would hamper me.”

“Then⁠—a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Good Lord. You are determined.”

“I have decided. I am familiar with the jungle. I am an athlete. I speak a little Spanish⁠—enough to boss a labor gang. I propose to assist you in that way, as well as financially. I will make any contract with you that you desire⁠—and attach no strings whatever to my money.”

Professor Hardin pondered for a long time. His eyes twinkled when he replied. “You won’t believe it, but I don’t give a damn for your money. Not that it wouldn’t assist us. But⁠—the fact is⁠—I could use a man like you. Anybody could. I’ll take you⁠—and you can keep your money.”

“There will be a check in the mail tomorrow,” Hugo answered.

The professor stood. “We’re hoping to get away in three weeks. You’ll leave your address with my secretary and I’ll send a list of the things you’ll want for your kit.” He held out his hand and Hugo shook it. When he had gone, the professor looked over the rooftops and swore gleefully to himself.

Hugo discovered, after the ship sailed, that everyone called Professor Hardin “Dan” and they used Hugo’s first name from the second day out. Dan Hardin was too busy to be very friendly with any of the members of his party during the voyage, but they themselves fraternized continually. There were deck games and card games; there were long and erudite arguments about the people whom they were going to study. What was the Mayan time cycle and did it correspond to the Egyptian Sothic cycle or the Greek Metonic cycle. Where did the Mayans get their jade? Did they come from Asia over Bering Strait or were they a colony of Atlantis? When they knew so much about engineering, why did they not use the keystone arch and the wheel? Why was their civilization decadent, finished when the conquistadores discovered it? How old were they⁠—four thousand years or twelve thousand years? There were innumerable other debates to which Hugo listened like a man newborn.

The cold Atlantic winds were transformed overnight to the balm of the Gulf stream. Presently they passed the West Indies, which lay on the water like marine jewels. Ages turned back through the days of buccaneering to the more remote times. In the port of Xantl a rickety wharf, a single white man, a zinc bar, and a storehouse