XII

The silence in the auditorium was broken by the clicking of a telegraph

instrument, which acted as a monitor on the receiving desk. The

mechanical equipment on the stage was similar to that found in the

radio department of any large New York newspaper office, with two

typewriter desks, one fitted for the receiving and transcribing of code

messages, the other equipped for their transmission.

The Martian signals were coming in by direct wire control, from the

receiving station Henry had erected for his interstellar experiments,

at great expense, at Orient Point, Long Island, about seventy miles

from the city. The replies from the earth, that were to follow, would

go by wire control from the stage to his transmitting station, situated

at Longhampton. His two private stations were twenty-five miles apart,

a distance necessary to prevent interference.

The moment Mars was reported on the air by the engineers at the Long

Island receiving station, Henry's mind, likewise Olinski's, suddenly

developed, as it were, enormous dynamic activity, and the audience

seemed to become so remote to them as to be non-existent.

Henry strode back quickly to the microphone, and said: "Stand by all

stations! Stand by, Mars! We can hear Mars calling! Lost their way?

Hello, Mars! Earth--New York--calling!"

Olinski was an expert wireless operator and typist. His fingers flew

over the keyboard as he transcribed the Martian code characters that

were being impressed by the ink recorder on narrow tape, resembling

ticker tape. Operated by a pull-motor, this tape ran in a brass-groove

attached to the front of the typewriter, under the operator's eyes.

On the completion of each sentence, Olinski would call: "All right!"

and Henry would rip off a short length of paper containing the

sentence, and begin the second transcription, into understandable

English--the Martian classical style. He wrote them in chalk, on the

blackboard, while Olinski's laboratory assistant read them off into the

microphone.

The blackboard was just about half filled when the short waves began

to fade, and nothing further was heard except a weird chattering in

a receiving apparatus at the back of the stage. The message, so far

received, decoded and transcribed on the blackboard, ran as follows:

"Salutations to the men of the Blue Sphere, with one moon, from the

white men, your brothers in space, inhabitants of the Red Sphere,

with two moons! Electric waves, radiant energy of the gods, at last

bridges the fearsome gulf that yawns between us. No longer shall

we be as strangers in our great universe, but united in bonds of

sympathy and understanding. Your wireless messages fill the air;

they have taught us many strange and wonderful things. Yet we

thirst for more knowledge of thee, and the planet on which thou

dwellest. The Red Sphere is matter in old age, slowly drying up. We

are facing extinction. Long has been the struggle of the minority,

the white race, against the majority, the ape-men of the jungles,

now warring to become our masters...."

From this point on, a considerable portion of the message could not get

through, apparently due to some ethereal disturbance; a turbulence,

somewhere off in space, which Olinski labelled as "very spotty."

Suddenly, the engineers' efforts to re-contact Mars were successful.

Fading and fluttering, the dots and dashes of the code began once again

to register on the receiving machine. Transcribed by Henry on the

blackboard, although piece-meal, the message was fairly intelligible,

and really contained more startling information than the first part. It

read thus:

"If thou desireth greater knowledge of our planet and people, look

for our ship in the sky. Search carefully, on your mountain-tops

and in the valleys. Fourteen suns have passed since the ship,

launched in the darkness of an equatorial solar eclipse, was caught

up in a cloud of cosmic bodies streaming over our planet. The key

of knowledge thou wilt find in this ship ... scroll written by

young priest-astronomer, darling of the gods, who first deciphered

code of your strange language.... Our astronomers study your planet

diligently through holes in your clouds.... They see great bluish

masses ... can this be water?..."

The second part of the message quickly fading out, Henry's presence of

mind did not forsake him in this emergency. Immediately, he began to

dictate a reply to the Martian message, which Olinski quickly coded and

transmitted, with breathless interest on the part of the audience.

In this Mars-bound reply, Henry laid strong emphasis on the "ship,"

mentioned by the Martians in their message, concluding as follows:

"Explain more fully about the ship in the sky. We have no knowledge

of this. Meteors by the thousands have been spraying the Blue

Sphere for many days. This stream of meteors may be the same

swarm that your own planet encountered, fourteen suns ago. Answer

immediately."

But no answer came.

Highly agitated, and believing himself to be on the brink of a

still greater discovery, Henry rushed again to the microphone, and

immediately broadcast a world-wide appeal for assistance in finding

the Martian "ship," which he described as a rocket. Then, as a

cheerful glow of anticipated success diffused itself all over him, he

offered a reward of $25,000 to any trooper, or constable, from Tokyo

to Timbuctoo, or to any one, in any part of the world, who found the

"ship."

"This so-called ship," he explained to his audience, visible and

invisible, "is most likely a metal rocket, which the Martians have

catapulted into the sky during a solar eclipse and meteoric display.

Their two tiny moons are so close to the surface of Mars, and their

speeds are so great, that along the Martian equator there are three or

four total solar eclipses every day.

"Apparently, they have taken advantage of one of these eclipses, in

their astronomical calculations, in directing the rocket earthward. It

may have been driven, by some mighty engine, beyond the planet's weak

pull of gravity, into this very same cloud of cosmic bodies that are at

present showering the earth. The 'fourteen suns,' mentioned in their

radio message, really mean fourteen days. Their day is but a half hour

longer than our own. Making all allowances, it would take a rocket,

catapulted from Mars, about two weeks to travel through space, and

reach the earth."

By this time, every one in the auditorium was on the edge of their

seats, actually quivering with excitement. It was like a mad-house when

the meeting was finally adjourned. People stood on their seats, waving

hats and handkerchiefs, and cheering Henry and Olinski.

That night stands out in my mind as one of gradually accumulating

excitement. The demonstration ending in the wildest sort of clamor,

and a general rush for the stage, to congratulate my brother and his

co-worker, I became separated from my party. Jane disappeared from my

view as completely as though she had dropped through a trap-door in the

floor.

Pat, somehow, lost sight of Prince Matani in the crush. I don't think

she minded much, or she may have lost him intentionally. I spent ten

excited and violent minutes looking for her and Jane. When I finally

reached the lobby, there I found Pat talking to McGinity, as calmly as

you please, and she looked entirely happy. After a quick and agitated

good-night, he left her in my care, and dashed off to the Daily

Recorder office, to write what he termed a "new lead" for the second

edition. During the demonstration, he had despatched his copy, page by

page, by messenger boy, from the press table.

Pat and I had to literally fight our way through the milling thousands,

outside the NRC Building, to reach our car, in a nearby parking space.

We found Jane in the car. She acted rather peevish, and steadily

persisted in saying that it was my fault that we had become separated.

There we waited a full hour for Henry. At last, I left the car to look

for him.

Suddenly, I was caught in a crowd that had broken through the police

lines. A stout man collided with me, and knocked me down; then some one

ran over me as I lay on the pavement. I believe the crowd would have

trampled me to death then and there if a policeman had not rescued me.

Then Olinski came rushing up to me. I must have presented a queer sight

to him, my hat at a strange angle and my clothes mussed up.

"Where's Henry?" I gasped.

"In a telephone booth, in the lobby, hiding from the crowd," Olinski

replied, breathlessly. "The crowd insists on carrying us both around on

its shoulders, like a hero aviator, or a victorious football player.

I've just escaped by the merest chance. Better get back to your car,

and wait."

He dashed off, and I returned to the car. Another half hour, and still

no sign of Henry. I was beginning to be quite alarmed when he appeared,

at last, accompanied by a young man.

"Bob!" exclaimed Pat, when she saw them coming.

Sure enough, it was McGinity. Henry had waited until he had cleaned up

on his story, and was now taking him to our country place to spend the

night. It was plain to see Henry had formed a sort of attachment for

the young reporter. As it turned out, McGinity was to be a valuable

ally the next day.

"I'm up to the neck in this thing now," Henry explained, as he joined

us in the car, "and no one can render me more valuable assistance

than Mr. McGinity. I've asked him to help me in making up a statement

for the press, which I've promised to hand out, first thing in the

morning."

McGinity insisted on riding in the front seat with the chauffeur. One

look at Pat convinced me that she was very pleased to have him with us,

even if he rode astride the radiator hood, which was hardly possible,

with the chauffeur's usual rocket-like speed as we rushed through the

dark countryside.

It was long past midnight when we rolled through the lodge-gate at our

Sands Cliff estate. During the drive from the city, many meteors had

flashed across the sky. We had just stepped up to our front door when

there was a sudden flash of prismatic colors almost directly over our

heads, a soft whirring noise, like a plane makes in the dead of night,

followed by a heavy thud, indicating that perhaps some heavy object had

struck the ground. Then everything became dark and quiet again.

The incident had an electrical effect on Henry. "That was a meteorite,

as sure as shot!" he exclaimed. "Looks like it fell somewhere along the

water-front. What about going down, and having a look round?"

"Let's go," said McGinity, eagerly.

It took some argument on the part of Jane and myself to keep them from

making the search, but at last we managed it. Half an hour later, we

were all in our beds. I was so dead tired, I felt that I would never

wake up once I got to sleep.

It was bright daylight, seven o'clock in the morning, when I was

wakened by Niki knocking loudly at my bedroom door.