CHAPTER VIBUILDING THE PROJECTILE
"Did you see that?" exclaimed Jack.
"What?" asked Professor Henderson quickly.
"Some one at the window," replied Jack.
"I saw the face," added Mark. "It was a man looking in."
"A man? What sort of a man?" inquired Mr. Roumann, and he showed some excitement.
"I couldn't tell very well," answered Jack. "I saw him for only a second. But the man was looking right in."
"Did he have a heavy black mustache?" asked the German, and strode rapidly toward the window.
"No, he didn't have a mustache at all," said Jack. "He was smooth–shaven. I'm sure of that."
"Then it can't be he," murmured Mr. Roumann.
"Who did you think it was?" asked Professor Henderson.
"I—I thought it was an enemy of mine," was the answer. "Some one who has been trying to discover my secret. But the man whom I fear has a heavy black mustache, and this one, you say, Jack, had none?"
"None at all."
"Then it's all right."
Jack thought of saying that the man might have shaved his mustache off, but he did not want Mr. Roumann to worry.
"I guess he was only a tramp," said Amos Henderson. "Some one wandering about looking for a chicken coop that isn't locked. Or, perhaps, seeking a chance to rob."
Jack said nothing, but from the glimpse he had had of the man's face, he did not believe the fellow was a tramp. There was too much intelligence shown. The face was an evil one, and seemed to indicate that the man had an object in peering into the window—a motive that was not connected with a chicken coop.
"I'll tell Andy to keep watch for a while tonight with his gun," went on the professor. "I don't like prowlers around here. I have some valuable tools in my machine shop, and they might steal them."
"Now, Professor Henderson," began Mr. Roumann, when he had taken his seat at a small table and spread out his plans in front of him, "I am only going to sketch briefly, for you and your young assistants, what I propose. As I have said, we will need a projectile, two hundred feet long and about ten feet through in the thickest part. In that we will build sleeping and living apartments, lacks to store the air which we will have to breathe while traveling through space, other tanks for water, a compartment for food, another for scientific instruments, and we will need a comparatively large space for my machinery."
"Why will it take up so much space?" asked the professor. "I thought you said the new power required only a small machine to generate it."
"That is true, but you see we will have to carry two kinds of machines."
"Two? Why is that?"
"Because we are going to travel through two, and perhaps three, different mediums. We are going to shoot through the atmosphere of the earth; then through the vast region beyond that, filled with what is called ether."
"And is that different from our atmosphere?" asked Mark.
"Much different," replied Mr. Roumann. "There is no air to it at all. The secret power which I have invented is perfectly adapted to project us through this ether. That is why I call it Etherium. Then when we reach Mars, we will find a different atmosphere, somewhat like this earth's, I expect, but which will require still another kind of power to move us in. I hope, however, that the same force which sends us through the limits of the atmosphere of this earth will take us through that of Mars. So that is why I need so much space for machinery."
"Well, I guess we can build the projectile for you," said Mr. Henderson. "It will take us nearly a month, though."
"No longer, I hope," said the German. "Every day is valuable. Once the projectile is finished we will enter it, seal ourselves up, and be shot through space. When we get to Mars—well, there are many things to do when we reach there."
"I shall be much interested in seeing if they have discovered a way of conquering the air," said Mr. Henderson. "If they are a race of superior intelligence, as some authorities believe, from the fact that Mars may have been inhabited for millions of years before this earth was formed, they must have advanced very greatly in science. The mastery of the air—in making flying machines—would be one of the surest tests."
"I think you will find the Martians a very learned race, professor," said Mr. Roumann.
"I want to see if the boys there are like the fellows on earth—playing baseball, football and so on," marked Jack.
"I shall be interested in the colleges," added Mark, "and in the great canals of Mars."
"I believe there will be plenty to interest us on the planet which glows so red at night," went on Mr. Henderson. "But, Mr. Roumann, it is only fair to tell you that the building of this projectile will cost considerable money. I do not hesitate on this account, but, as you know, theFlying Mermaid, in which we went to the center of the earth, had to be abandoned there. That was quite a heavy loss. I should not like—"
"You will suffer no loss in this case," interrupted Roumann. "I appreciate that the projectile cost a large sum. I have no money to advance you, but I can promise you that when we reach Mars you will be amply repaid. We shall be rich—rich beyond your wildest dreams. There will be gold in untold quantities—"
"I never heard that there was much gold on Mars," said Jack.
"Not in the form of gold," said the German, who was growing very excited, "but something that can be turned into gold. I am on the track of the most wonderful substance—that which gives Mars its red color—that which will—"
He stopped suddenly.
"I must say no more now," he added, calming himself by a strong effort. "Sufficient to state that you will never regret making the trip to the wonderful planet."
"But now about your new force—how powerful is it?" asked Mr. Henderson. "You promised to demonstrate it to me."
"Yes, and I will do so."
Thereupon the German plunged into a mass of figures and calculations, which were quite puzzling to the boys, but which seemed very clear to Mr. Henderson. The German drew several rough outlines, and the discussion became quite technical. Toward the close, the inventor of the–secret force gave a demonstration of its power. By means of certain chemicals and an electric current he developed from the end of a wire a force sufficient to knock over a heavy block of steel, weighing over a ton.
"That is only a small sample of what my force will do," he said. "In the proper machine it will be ten times more strong. The conditions here are not exactly harmonious. Now, are you satisfied, Professor Henderson?"
"Yes. I could not help but be after that demonstration, it is wonderful."
"And you will make the projectile for me—for us?"
"I will. I'll start at once."
"Good! And I promise that you will come back from Mars even more wealthy than you were when you returned from the center of the earth."
"Most of that wealth is now gone," said Mr. Henderson with a smile. "I have enough left, however, to build the projectile, and we'll start at once."
"Hurrah for Mars!" cried Jack.
"And the marvelous red substance!" added Mark.
"Hush! Not a word about that!" cried Mr. Roumann warningly. "That must be kept a profound secret!"
The next day the boys, Professor Henderson, Washington White, and some trusty machinists began the building of theAnnihilator, as the projectile was to be called, because it was to annihilate space.
CHAPTER VIIAT TERRIFIC SPEED
"Now, boys," remarked Mr. Roumann one morning about a week after work had been in progress on the projectile, "I did not mention it, of course, but I hope you will not let it become known in the village that we are constructing a machine in which to proceed to Mars. It would not do to have a lot of curious people out here."
"Oh, you needn't worry about that," replied Jack. "We have built several things in the shop here, and no one ever knew about them until we were ready to have them start off."
"We'll tell Andy Sudds to keep on guard with his rifle," suggested Mark. "That will prevent curious persons coming too close."
"That will be a good idea," declared Mr. Roumann.
"You need have no fear of anything being discovered," put in Mr. Henderson, who was busy planning the engine–room of the strange craft.
"When we first came here we used to be bothered by curious persons, but I soon found a method of keeping them away."
"How was that?" inquired the German.
"Why, I ran a wire all around the shop, and charged the conductor with a mild current of electricity. Some people got shocked by coming too close, and after that they gave my place a wide berth. I'll do the same thing now."
"A fine idea," commented Mr. Roumann. "But what about Washington White? He is so fond of talking, and using big words, that he may disclose our plans."
"No, I can trust Washington," declared the professor. "But, as a further precaution, I have not told him what our object is. All he knows is that we are building a new machine, but he does not know what it is for, nor where we are going."
"That's good."
"Maybe when he does find out he'll not want to go," added Mark.
"Do you intend to take him with us?" asked Mr. Roumann.
"I think so—if he'll go," replied Mr. Henderson. "He has always been with me, and he is very helpful on these trips. But I shall not tell him where we are going until we are almost ready to start. But now, Mr. Roumann, I'd like to consult with you about the installation of the motor, or whatever we are to call it, by means of which your secret force is to be used."
"A motor will be as good a name as any other. We'll call it the Etherium motor."
"What will we call the other one?" asked Jack.
"What other one?"
"The motive power by which we are to go through the atmosphere of the earth."
"Well, we can call that the atmospheric motor," replied Mr. Roumann. "However, there is no hurry about that. I want to get the work in the engine–room under way first."
He and the professor were soon deep in the discussion, while Jack and Mark, with the aid of the machinists, were busy constructing the main part of the projectile.
The first thing to be done was to build the shell of the projectile. This consisted of plates of a new and peculiar metal, invented by Professor Henderson. The plates were riveted together, in the shape of a great cigar, two hundred feet long. This work took some time, but, as the professor had in his shop the proper machinery for it, a small force could accomplish a great deal of work.
The rear of the projectile was to be occupied by the mysterious apparatus that was to drive it through space. In this compartment would be many strange machines, including the one which Mr. Roumann had invented to use the terrific and secret force of which he was the discoverer.
There were apparatus for distilling water from the atmosphere, others for manufacturing oxygen, dynamos for furnishing light to the interior of theAnnihilator, motors for working the various small machines, and a number of other appliances.
Forward from the engine–room was a space to be used in storing away the food supplies, and the materials necessary for generating the force used, as well as for making a new supply of air when needed.
Amidships was a living–room, with a plate–glass window on either side. There was not much space to move about in it, as, owing to the long and narrow shape of the projectile, economy of room was enforced. Still, the place was a lengthy one, with tables and chairs, which could be folded up out of the way when not in use. There was provision for a library of scientific and other books, and a piano played by electricity and brass disks, somewhat on the order of modern player–pianos.
"What are those apertures in the sides of the living–room?" asked Jack of Mr. Roumann, as the lad glanced over a sheet of blue–print paper, on which was shown a plan of the projectile.
"Those," said the German, "are for the guns."
"Guns!" exclaimed Mark. "Why, they're too big for guns. They are large enough to put a cannon through."
"And that is just what is going to be put through them, my boy," went on Mr. Roumann. "From those openings, and you will see that there are four of them, will protrude the muzzles of my electric cannons."
"Do we need them?" asked Jack.
"You can't tell what we'll need when we get to Mars," was the slow answer. "You must remember that we know nothing about the inhabitants of the planet. While I believe that the people there are of a very high grade of intelligence, we must be prepared for the worst. We may find them terrible savages, who will want to attack and destroy us. With the electric cannon we can defend ourselves."
"That's so," admitted Jack. "We had to fight the Esquimaux up north,"
"And the putty–men in the center of the earth," added Mark.
Forward of the living–room, and near what corresponded to the bow of the projectile, were the sleeping–rooms, consisting of two long, narrow compartments, with a passageway between them, like the aisle in a sleeping–car. The beds were berths against the wall, much as in the Pullman cars of to–day.
In the very "nose" of theAnnihilatorwas the pilot house. Here were grouped together the wheels, levers, cams, gears, pistons and other apparatus that controlled the big projectile. Standing in it, and peering out through a heavy plate glass window, the operator could guide the machine in any direction he desired, and he could also regulate the rate of progress.
A number of scientific instruments were carried, for showing and registering the speed and direction of theAnnihilator, the distance it was above the earth, and there was an indicator to note how near the travelers came to Mars. There was also a powerful telescope, and a number of cameras so arranged that they would automatically take pictures.
"We'll have to travel through space pretty fast in order to cover thirty–five millions of miles," observed Jack, stopping in his work of helping rivet some of the plates.
"About how fast will we have to go, Mr. Roumann?"
"I have it all figured out," replied the German.
"I hope our projectile will stand it," remarked Mr. Henderson. "We did not have to make such terrific speed on our other voyages."
"I think that theAnnihilator, as we have planned it, will not suffer from the strain of speed," when on Mr. Roumann, looking up from his study of some blue–prints. "You may be astonished when I tell you we shall have to travel at the rate of one hundred miles a second."
"One hundred miles a second!" exclaimed Jack. "That's pretty fast, isn't it?"
"It's at the rate of eight million six hundred and forty thousand miles a day," came from Mark, who was a rapid figurer.
"And to cover thirty–five million miles would take us less than five days," said Jack. "But such an enormous speed—"
"We must travel at about that speed," interrupted Mr. Roumann, "though I fancy we will be nearer ten days than five in reaching Mars."
"Why?" asked Jack.
"Because we will not dare travel at such terrific speed as one hundred miles a second through the atmosphere of the earth. We would be burned into cinders by the mere friction of the air. Therefore, I shall send theAnnihilatorcomparatively slowly through the earth's atmosphere, and perhaps I will find that I shall have to do the same thing when we near Mars. But while traveling through the ether, or the space that is between the two can go as fast as we like, which will as Mark has said, eight million miles per day."
"But even that rate," began Jack, "is going to pretty fast."
"It is faster than almost anything except light," went on Mr. Roumann.
"Light travels one hundred and eighty–six thousand miles a second," stated Mark, who remembered his physics. "That's more than seven times around the earth in a second."
"Correct," said Mr. Roumann with a smile. "But sound, as you know, only goes a little over a thousand feet a second, at a temperature of thirty–two degrees above zero. In a warmer atmosphere it travels slightly faster. We are going much faster than sound ever travels. A cannon ball will travel about three thousand feet per second, so we are even going to beat cannon balls. At least, we hope we are, when we get beyond the earth's atmosphere."
"That's going to be terrific speed," remarked Jack dubiously, as if there was some risk in it.
"You need not worry," said Mr. Roumann. "You know we are building theAnnihilatorwith a double shell, with a space between the two walls."
"Yes?" said Jack questioningly.
"Well, in that space I intend to put a new kind of gas, that will absorb all the heat that may be generated by our flight through space," went on Mr. Roumann. "Now that you know you have nothing to fear, let us go on with the work."
CHAPTER VIIIA MYSTERIOUS THEFT
"Would yo' kindly permit me t' prognostigate yo' attention fo' de monumental contraction of impossibilitiness in de circomlocution ob attaining de maximum nutrition ob internal combustion?" asked Washington White about an hour later, as he poked his head into the workshop, where the professor, the boys and Mr. Roumann, together with the machinists, were busily engaged.
"What's that, Wash?" asked Jack with a wink at Mark. "Would you mind saying that over again?"
"Not in de leastest, Massa Jack," replied the colored man. "What I done intended to convey to de auditory sensibilities ob de auricular nerves ob do exterior contraption ob de—"
"Hold on, Washington!" cried Professor Henderson with a laugh. "That sounds as if it was going in be worse than the other. Did I understand you to say that you wanted us to come to dinner?"
"Dat's jest it, pertesser. I done 'spress mahself in de most disproportionate language what I knows how, an' yet it seems laik some pussons cain't understand de appreciableness ob simplisosity."
"Simplisosity is a new one," murmured Mark, while Washington, with an injured look at Jack, who was laughing, went back to his kitchen to prepare to serve the meal.
"I wonder what we'll get to eat when we get up above?" asked Jack, taking advantage of a lull during the meal, when Washington was in the kitchen, for it had been agreed that nothing was yet to be said to the colored man as to their destination, though Andy Sudds knew of their plans. But Andy could be depended on not to talk too much.
"Eat?" repeated the professor. "Why, I fancy that we will take enough along from the earth to last us, eh, Mr. Roumann?"
"Not altogether. I am positive that there is life on Mars, and where there is life there must be things to sustain it. Perhaps the food there will not be such as we are used to, but when our supply, runs short we will have to depend on what we will get there."
"How long do you expect to stay?" asked Mark.
"It is hard to say. When I get what I want I shall be ready to return—that is, after having studied the inhabitants and made some scientific observations."
"Maybe the Martians will like us so that they let us come back," suggested Jack with a laugh.
"Oh, I fancy we will be able to get away," said Mr. Roumann. "But now I must get back to the shop. I am having a little more trouble with my Etherium motor than I anticipated."
"I don't exactly understand how that works," said Jack. "The plans don't call for any opening the stern of theAnnihilatorfor a propeller to project from, and there is no provision for a tube, such as we used to send compressed air from theFlying Mermaid. Nor is there anything in front to pull theAnnihilatoralong."
"We need nothing like that," explained the German scientist. "The powerful force which I discovered does not need a tube or a propeller to enable it to be used. The simplest explanation of it is that it consists of waves of energy, which pass from certain square surfaces attached to the motor. The force flows from the plates right through the stern of the ship, passing through the metal without the necessity for any openings. The wireless waves, as they may be called, act on the ether, and, by pushing against it send the projectile forward, just as if it was a stream of compressed air acting on the atmosphere, or a propeller in the water. Of course, that is to be used when we pass beyond the atmosphere. In the latter space I shall use a different force, as I also shall when we approach Mars."
"Then you can't see this force?" asked Mark.
"No more than you can see the wireless impulses that flow from the wires of an aerial station."
"Yet it's there, just the same," spoke Jack.
"Indeed, it is," answered the scientist. "But, now I must get back to my motor."
"Yes," added Professor Henderson, "we must, all get busy. What are you going to do, Andy?"
"Well, I thought I'd go off hunting. I'm no good at building machinery. I thought you might like something for dinner—say a brace of ducks."
"Good!" cried Jack, who was fond of eating, which, perhaps, accounted for his stoutness.
It was a fine day, just right for hunting, and Andy set off with his gun over his shoulder.
"I wonder if there'll be any game on Mars," said Mark. "I think I'd like to hunt there with Andy."
"If other things are in proportion, the game there will be very different from that on this earth," said the scientist. "We may find monsters there which you never dreamed of."
"That'll be just the stuff for you, Andy," cried Jack.
"Well, bring on your monsters," said the old hunter, as he walked toward the little lake, where wild ducks abounded. "I'll try and shoot some for you."
"Andy takes everything as a matter of course," went on Jack. "No sort of animal seems to frighten him. If he should happen to meet a dinotherium, such as used to live ages ago, he'd shoot it first, and wonder about it afterward."
"And we, are likely to meet with stranger beasts than dinotheriums on Mars," said Mr. Roumann.
"What am dat dinotherium?" asked Washington, entering the room at that moment and catching the word.
"Washington wants to work that into his conversation!" exclaimed Jack with a laugh. "But you want to be careful, Wash."
"Why so, Massa Jack?"
"Because the dinotheriurn was a fearful beast. It was about twenty feet long, lived in the water, and ate all sorts of weeds."
"How long you say he was?"
"About twenty feet."
"He must eat a pow'ful sight ob weeds, den. Wish I had one."
"What for?"
"Cause mah garden am jest oberrun wid weeds. If I had one ob dem dinnasorriouses—"
"Dinotheriums," corrected Jack.
"Dat's what I said," observed Washington with dignity. "If I had one ob dem, I wouldn't hab t' weed mah garden. Where am one to be possessed ob, Massa Jack?"
"I guess you were born a few million years too late," was the lad's answer. "They lived a few centuries before the flood."
"Good land!" exclaimed Washington, his eyes opening wide. "Before Noah built de ark?"
"Yes."
"Landy gracious! Dat animai'd be so old by dis time dat he couldn't chew de weeds after he pulled'em. Guess I'll hab t'do mah own weedin'."
"I reckon you will," added Mark.
They went back to the machine shop, and for the next week were very busy over theAnnihilator. It was beginning to assume shape, and some of the machinery was installed.
One evening, after a hard day's work, when they 'were all seated in the big living–room of Professor Henderson's home, discussing the progress they were making, Jack suddenly held up his hand for silence.
"What's the matter?"' asked Mark.
"I thought I heard somebody walking around the house," was the stout lad's answer.
"Maybe it's Washington," suggested the professor. "He generally goes out to see if his chickens are shut up. He is very proud of his flock of hens, and seems to hate to kill any for pot–pie."
They all listened. Plainly there was some one or some animal moving about under the windows of the living–room.
"That doesn't sound like Washington," said Mr. Roumann.
Just then the colored man, who had been upstairs, attending to some of the housework (for he was the only servant the professor kept), came down.
"Were you just outside, Washington?" asked Mr. Henderson.
"No, sah. I'se been upstairs, makin' beds."
"There it is again!" cried Jack suddenly.
The footsteps sounded more plainly, and one of the window shutters rattled.
"Dat's somebody after mah chickens!" exclaimed the colored man. "I'se gwine t' git him, too!"
He started for the door, but the professor held him back.
"Let Andy go," he said. "He will make less noise than any of us."
He looked at the old hunter and nodded. Andy understood, and, taking his gun from a corner, slipped out of a side door, making no more noise than a cat.
The others, left in the living–room, waited in silence. They could hear the stealthy footsteps, which, however, seemed now to be moving away.
"I wonder who or what it can be?" murmured the professor. "This is the second time some one has been sneaking around here. I don't like it."
"It does look suspicious," admitted Jack. "Do you suppose the man you spoke of, Mr. Roumann, who you thought might try to discover your secret, has traced you here, and is endeavoring to steal it?"
"No, I hardly think so. I took good care to conceal my movements, and not even my closest friends know that I am here with Professor Henderson, making a projectile, the trip of which will astonish the world. No, I think this must be some other person."
"It's a pusson after mah chickens!" insisted Washington. "If yo'll allow me, perfesser, t' project mahself inter de promixity of his inner consciousness—"
"No, you just stay here," decided Mr. Henderson. "You might get into trouble if you went out and tried conclusions with a thicken thief, which I suppose is what you are trying to say you want to do."
"Dat's what I did say, perfesser."
They could no longer hear the footsteps, but the silence of the night was suddenly broken by the report of Andy's gun.
"There! He's shot at him!" cried Jack.
"I hope he disabled dat chicken stealer!" yelled the colored man. "Anybody what'll steal chickens—"
"Hush!" commanded Mr. Henderson.
Another shot rang out, and then the sound of footsteps could be heard.
"He's running past here," called Jack, hurrying to the door.
He caught sight of a dark figure rushing past, and was about to follow, but the outline was immediately lost in the darkness, and Jack that it would be a useless move. Andy came up.
"Did you hit him?" cried Jack
"No. I only fired over his head," replied the old hunter.
"Who was it?"
"I don't know, but it was some man prowling around, and for no good purpose, I take it."
"Did he steal any ob my chickens?" asked Washington.
"No; he wasn't near the coop."
"I guess it was only a tramp," said Mr. Henderson.
"I hope he doesn't go near the machine shop," added Mr. Roumann. "Still, if he did, the two machinists sleeping there would hear him."
They returned to the room, and Andy stood his gun in a corner. The weapon was seldom far from him.
"What was he doing when you saw him?" asked Mr. Henderson.
"Just sneaking along the window here as if listening."
"Maybe he was trying to hear what we were talking about," suggested Jack.
"Or trying to discover my secret," added Mr. Roumann quickly. "Fortunately I never talk about the secret of the power. But I shall be anxious about the machine shop."
"Suppose we go out and take a look around it," proposed Mark. "Ned and Sam will know if any intruder has been sneaking around there."
They all went out where theAnnihilatorwas in process of building, but the machinists said they had not been disturbed, and they were sure no one had stolen anything.
There was no further disturbance that night, but when Mr. Roumann paid an early visit to the machine shop the next morning, he uttered a cry of surprise.
"What is it?" asked Jack, who accompanied him.
"The plates—the plates of the Etherium motor!" cried the scientist. "They have been stolen!"
CHAPTER IXA CRAZY MACHINIST
For a moment Jack stared at Mr. Roumann. He did not appreciate the seriousness of the announcement. The scientist was hurrying here and there, looking under benches and on tables for missing plates.
"Do you mean the plates that make the motor go?" asked Jack.
"No, not those, but the plates from which the mysterious force is projected into space—the plates that give the forward motion to the projectile. They have been stolen. They were taken last night, and the man Andy fired at stole them!"
"Will that prevent us from making the trip?"
"No. I have duplicate plates."
"Then little harm is done."
"No particular harm is done to the projectile, but I am afraid that, with the plates in his possession, the man may discover the secret of the power that I use. Oh, I should have locked them up, but I thought they would be safe."
"What has happened?" asked Mr. Henderson, entering the machine shop at that moment. The scientist told him, and expressed his fear.
"Do you really think there is any danger that the man, whoever he was, will learn how to use the plates?" inquired the professor.
"Perhaps, and then, again, perhaps not. I think it will be very difficult for him to work out the secret of the power from the plates, for they are only a small part of the mechanism. Still, he may do so. I am convinced now that this man is either the same one of whom I stand in fear, or he is some one hired by him to steal my secret."
"Then we had better notify the police," suggested Mark.
"No, that would never do," answered Mr. Roumann. "I would have to describe the plates, in order to have the authorities identify them in the possession of the thief, and I do not care to do that. No; the best plan will be to hasten work or theAnnihilator, and start for Mars before the thief can gain any advantage from the plates. If he should succeed in discovering from the plate how to make the power that is discharged in wireless currents, it will take him a long time, and we can be away before then. Let us hasten our work and start for Mars."
"You say you have duplicates of the plates?" asked Jack.
"Yes. I was afraid lest something happen to one set, so I made three. Well, it will do no good to worry, but I wish I had the plates back."
"I don't see how he got them," observed Mark. "There doesn't seem to be anything broken, to indicate how the thief got in, and he certainly didn't touch Professor Henderson's live wire."
Not a window or a door had been forced, and the two machinists, who slept in the shop, declared they had heard no suspicious sounds during the night. It was a mysterious theft, and there seemed to be no means of solving it.
At Mr. Roumann's suggestion they all increased their hours of work on theAnnihilator. They wanted to have it finished ahead of the time set, and it seemed that this would be done.
Day after day, and far into the night, they labored. Bit by bit the machinery was installed, the supplies were gathered together, the great water tanks were built, to provide a supply of the fluid in case of any accident to the distilling apparatus. The Etherium motor was almost finished, and the other, motor, which was to drive theAnnihilatorthrough the earth's atmosphere, was nearly ready to install. The steering apparatus necessitated considerable labor, and when it was finished Amos Henderson declared they had made a mistake, and would have to build it all over again.
This lost them a week, and time was precious, as there was no telling what the thief would do with the stolen plates.
"I tell you what, but we're going to have a better ship than any of the others we built," remarked Jack one day, as he and Mark were putting the finishing touches to the living–room.
"This isn't a ship," said Mark. "It's a projectile."
"I guess I can call it a ship if I want to," was the retort. "It's going to sail through the air, and it's an airship, of course. Wait until you see the one I'm going to build when I get that new gas invented."
"I'll not go with you," said Mark. "There's too much danger of being blown up."
"There won't be, after I have it perfected. But say, won't it be fine when we're shooting through space to sit here in an easy chair and read a book and eat sandwiches?"
"I guess you think as much of eating as you do of reading, Jack."
"Well, almost, that's a fact. I must cut out some of my eating, too. I've gained five pounds this week, because of not doing any studying. But wait until I get to Mars. Then I'll weigh less."
"I hope Mr. Roumann lets us help run the machinery," went on Mark.
"I guess he'll have to. He'll need help, and I understand that he and the professor, you and I, and Washington and Andy are the only ones going along. He and the professor can't run the affair all alone, and they'll have to have our help. Wash and Andy won't be much good at machinery."
"That's so. My! Think of steering a two hundred–foot projectile through space, when we're moving at the rate of one hundred miles a second!"
"Great, isn't it?" commented Jack.
"It would be a bad thing if it ever got away from us," said Mark.
"Yes; or if we steered into a comet."
"That's so. We may run into one of those things—or a shooting star."
"As long as we don't fall into the sun and get burned up we'll be all right," went on Jack. "And when we get to Mars I know what I'm going to do."
"What?"
"Go for a sail on one of the big canals. Mars is covered with them, astronomers say."
"Maybe the Martians won't let you."
"Maybe not. I wish we could start to–morrow."
"Well, we can't. TheAnnihilatorisn't near done. We will be at her for two weeks yet."
The boys were busy for some time fitting up the living–room. They were in the midst of this occupation, and were conversing about the strange experiences in store for them, when Jack was startled by hearing a strange voice say:
"Say, don't you want some help building this airship?"
He looked up, to see a man standing near one of the entrances to the projectile—an entrance that would be closed when theAnnihilatorwas finished. The man was a stranger, and from his appearance Jack judged that he was a mechanic.
"How'd you get in here?" asked Mark, for he knew it was against the rules for any stranger to enter the machine shop, much less approach the projectile.
"I walked," replied the man. "I saw the door open, and I heard hammering going on in here. I knew it was a machine shop, and as I'm a first class machinist, out of work, I thought I'd apply for the job."
"How'd you get past the doorkeeper?" inquired Jack, for he knew that Andy Sudds was supposed to be on guard with his gun.
"He wasn't at the door," went on the man. "There was nobody there, so I walked in. Can't you give me a job on the airship?"
"How do you know it's an airship?" asked Jack.
"Oh, I know. I know lots of things," and the man winked one eye at the lad. "I built a balloon once."
"Did you?" asked Mark. He began to think perhaps the man might be able to aid them.
"Sure I did. I know about airships. I'll work for low wages, and I'll keep my mouth closed. Oh, I know what patents mean. Say," he went on in a whisper, "you'd be surprised to know where I went in my balloon. I'll tell you," and he looked around as if to make sure no one was listening.
"Where did you go?" asked Jack.
"Up to the moon," was the surprising reply. "And, say, it's all a mistake about it being made of green cheese. It's green apples—that's what it's made of. I know, for I was there, and I ate some. They gave me an awful pain in my head, too," and the man passed his hand across his brow. "A fearful pain," he went on.
Jack and Mark looked at each other. They did not understand the man's strange talk and actions.
"You don't believe me, do you?" the stranger asked. "Well, if you want a good machinist, hire me. I know all about airships and traveling through space. Why, I once did a dance on the tail of a comet, only the comet got mad and shook me off. I'll show you how I danced."
He threw a somersault, lighted on his hands, and began to waltz about in the somewhat contracted space of the living–room of the projectile. Then he set up a loud shout as he regained his feet.
"That's how!" he cried.
The boys were alarmed. The man was evidently crazy, or perhaps he might be doing this for effect, in order to disarm their suspicions, so that he could discover Mr. Roumann's secret. They did not know what to do.
"Come on, we'll all have a dance!" cried the man. "My name is Axtell—Fred Axtell. I used to live on the moon—tra–la–la!"
His loud voice attracted the attention of Mr. Henderson, who was working at the far end of the shop. The professor ran toward the place where the strangely acting man was, the latter having now emerged from the ship, followed by the boys.
"Here we go! Off to the moon!" cried the man, and catching up a big hammer he began to pound on the sides of theAnnihilatoras if he would destroy the projectile.
CHAPTER XWASHINGTON IS AFRAID
"Here! Here! Stop him! Grab that man!" cried Mr. Roumann, as he rushed toward Axtell, who was hammering away madly.
Jack and Mark started for the fellow.
"Keep away!" cried the machinist, swinging the sledge toward the boys. "I want to work on an airship, and I'm going to do it. I'll make some dents in it, and then I'll straighten them out! Whoop!"
Mr. Henderson hastened forward. He took in the situation at a glance.
"That man is insane!" the professor whispered to the German scientist. "Let me deal with him."
"Do something quickly," pleaded Mr. Roumann, "or he will damage the projectile."
"This is the way I work!" cried the insane man, and he brought down the hammer with great force on the rounded sides of theAnnihilator. He made quite a dent in it.
"Stop him!" begged Mr. Ronan.
Mark and Jack had retreated out of reach of the big hammer, the professor and the German were consulting together, and in the door of the shop appeared Andy Sudds with his gun. He had gone away for a moment, in which interval the crazy machinist had appeared.
"Andy will scare him with his gun," whispered Jack to Mark.
Just then Mr. Henderson called out:
"If you want work, I can give it to you."
Axtell stopped his pounding of the projectile, laid his hammer down, and asked in a mild voice:
"Can you give me work now?"
"Of course," answered the professor, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to give work to insane persons. His calm manner and soothing words had a quieting effect on the lunatic. The glare died out of his eyes.
"Come with me," went on Mr. Henderson. "I have some work outside."
"What is it?" asked Axtell suspiciously.
"I want you to dig a hole so we can put this airship in it," whispered the professor. "Come outside."
He wanted to get the man out of the machine shop, where he could better deal with the fellow.
"That's just the kind of work I want," declared the unfortunate person. "I love to dig holes in the ground. I once dug one clear through to China. Get me a shovel."
He seemed to have forgotten all about the projectile, and meekly followed Mr. Henderson. The latter led him some distance from the shop, talking soothingly to the man, and promising that he should soon have a shovel. But there was no necessity for going to these measures.
Axtell suddenly caught sight of Washington coming toward him, and he exhibited the greatest fear.
"Hide me!" he exclaimed to the professor. "Hide me in the airship! Here comes the king of the cannibal islands!" And away he ran at top speed and disappeared in the woods behind the Henderson place. A search was at once made, but he could not be located.
Andy was rather worried lest he be blamed for not remaining on guard, but no one thought of censuring him, as he was such a faithful watchman and had only left the shop in answer to a call from Washington, who thought he heard some strange animal after his chickens.
"But I'll not desert my post again," declared the old hunter, as he looked to the loading of his gun.
"If any other crazy men get inside, they'll have to answer to me."
Work on the projectile was resumed, and for a week went on uninterruptedly. It was nearing completion, though there were many details yet to look after. Mr. Roumann was having more trouble with his Etherium motor than he anticipated.
"The atmospheric motor is all right," he declared, "and it works to perfection," which was indeed true, for in tests they made they found that the motor, the force of which was only less powerful and complicated than the secret power that was to hurl them through space, would easily send the projectile through the comparatively thin atmosphere of the earth. They did not actually move theAnnihilator, since to do so would mean they would have to take it out of the shed. But they made tests and experiments with heavy objects, applying the force to them, and, by calculation, Mr. Roumann and the professor found that the force would actually send the projectile on the start of its journey.
"But there is one point about my Etherium motor that still bothers me," said the German.
"Can I help you solve it?" asked Mr. Henderson.
"No, thank you. I think I am on the right track. I will have it perfected in a few days, and then we will be off for Mars. I can scarcely wait until I get to that wonderful planet, thirty–five millions of miles away, where I hope to get possession of a most wonderful substance. Once we are on Mars—"
"'Scuse me, Mistah Roumann," interrupted Washington White, who happened to be in the machine shop at that moment, and overheard what the scientist said, "'scuse me, but did I done heah yo' promulgate de ostentatious fact dat yo' is gwine to de planet Mars?"
"That's where we're going, Wash," replied Jack, for it had been decided that the colored man could now be told of their destination.
"Yo' means dat red star what shines in de sky?"
"That's the one, Washington."
"An' how far did yo' say it was from heah?" was the question directed at Mr. Henderson.
"Well, it's about thirty–five millions of miles from the earth."
"And is yo' all goin'?"
"Yes, we expect to."
"Is dis heah contraption yo' done been buildin'?"
"Yes."
"And is I gwine, too, perfesser?"
"I calculated on taking you, Washington. You went north and south with me, and down into the center of the earth. I thought you'd like to go on this trip."
Washington laid down the hammer he had come in to borrow to fix the chicken coop. He looked around on the circle of smiling faces.
"I—I 'spects I'd bettah be lookin' fo' annudder place, perfesser," he said quietly.
"Why, you aren't afraid to go to Mars, when you went with us in theFlying Mermaiddown into the earth, are you?" asked Jack.
"'Scuse me, Massa Jack," said the colored man solemnly, "dis trip am wuss dan any ob de udders. It suah am. Good land a' massy! T' t'ink ob being projected transmigatorially in de obverse tangent ob de parallelism circumdelegated on de inverse side ob a duodecimo. It's too altogether imparipinated fo' dis chile! I'se afraid dat's what I is! I'se too much afraid t' go," and Washington started to run from the shop, as if he feared that the big projectile would take after him.