the balloon increased in speed till it exceeded the wildest calculations
made by man respecting motion. The wretched travelers of the sky could
no longer maintain their hold, and were one by one flung from the fated
balloon like missiles from a catapult. They went whirling through space
with a rotary motion, like balls from a rifle; while, from a peculiarity
in the way in which they were flung, they took a different course from
that taken by the balloon, more downward and southward.
Thus the pedagogue’s question, whether anything can be discharged from a
motive power in motion, is set at rest forever.
In spite of the awfulness of his situation, Will could not help pitying
whatever obstacle they should bring up against, for there would be a
frightful collision.
For the thirtieth time the Rocky Mountains rose before them, and a
large man, built on the approved Dicken’s model, was shot from the
balloon. To the spectator’s horror, he went right through one of the
loftiest mountains, just below the limit of perpetual snow, tearing a
hole eight feet in circumference through the solid rock. When the “hardy
mountaineer” comes upon that hole, he will call it a “freak of nature,”
and be at a loss to account for its usefulness. “Ah! he didn’t ought to
come!” the professor managed to articulate. But he was not heard, for in
an instant an ocean of ether rolled between him and his words.
One by one the unfortunates were hurled from the balloon, till out of
thirteen only the professor and the two cousins remained. The monster
circumnavigated the globe one hundred times; then quivered, hesitated,
slackened its speed, and finally, taking a new start, it left the
earth entirely behind, and swiftly drew near one of the planets. It
redoubled its exertions, and soon exceeded its former velocity. The air
became warmer and warmer, nearer and nearer they came to the planet. The
professor determined to make one more effort to check their wild flight,
and took his right hand from the support it clutched, to pull a rope
leading to a valve.
That movement was fatal: the professor himself was shot out of the
balloon. He, however, took an upward course. The balloon seemed to
know that he was gone; and quivering with joy and relief, it once more
assumed a perpendicular position. The boys relaxed their hold, and gladly
stretched their stiffened limbs. But its velocity seemed only to increase.
Six seconds later, the boys felt an awful crash above them. The balloon
had overtaken its latest projectile, the professor, and a great collision
was the result. Then the gas coming from the professor’s throat, and
the gas inside of the balloon, met; and an explosion that jarred the
planet they were drawing near,--though it was still three thousand miles
away,--took place.
The balloon immediately collapsed, and then a strange thing happened.
Will dilated till he reached the dimensions of the last exhumed New
Jersey fossil, and then a cry of pain broke from his lips. He opened his
eyes.
A calm September sun was shining into the bedroom window; the birds were
singing gayly outside; while down stairs he heard Henry’s merry laugh.
“A dream!” Will exclaimed, in great relief! “Only a dream. But it seemed
more real than any dream I ever had! Oh, dear! Even in dreams I get into
trouble! What will become of me next? Shall I always keep on making
blunders? Shall I always get into disgrace, like an idiot or a bothersome
dog?”
After a pause, he continued: “Well, I do feel a pain, sure enough! I
suppose I ate too much pudding for dinner.”
In this observation he was partially correct. Boys, listen to this
glorious precept: _Never eat heartily when you feel as Will felt that
afternoon._
“I wonder how a genuine balloon would behave itself?” Will mused, as he
jumped out of bed. “Not much like Professor Ranteleau’s, surely. If I
could see George, now, I guess he could tell me all about it. Perhaps
Henry knows how it would be. Well, I don’t care for such dreams; they
make me feel homesick. Poor Stephen! I wonder how he is this morning. Oh!
Oh! this is the day for the visit to the Demon’s Cave!”
Having said that, he went down stairs in search of Henry.
_Chapter XVII._
THEY PREPARE TO GIANTIZE.
The boys spent the day in suppressed excitement, not caring to engage
in any amusement, but roaming about the house and making their
“preparations.” After much wandering through the building, they gathered
up everything they thought would be needful.
“It’s a great pity we haven’t more weapons,” Henry said. “Now, Will to
go armed rightly, we should have revolvers, not pistols. Seven-shooters,
with a box of cartridges apiece, would make us very formidable, and then
we ought to have other weapons. Well, I’ve a compass, anyway; you must
take it, Will, for you don’t know the way so well as I do. These pistols
of mine are very good, for pistols; but after all, they are only pistols.”
Henry was wrong in being ashamed of his firearms. They were very neat
and highly ornamented pocket-pistols, which his father had given to him
some years before, under a promise not to use them till he should be old
enough to do so with safety. He had strictly kept that promise.
There was nothing wrong with them; but Henry got out his father’s oil
can, and the two boys toiled over them for upwards of an hour. The oil
in the little can ran low, and a pile of greasy rags rose beside them;
but when they at last desisted from their labors, a sweet smile of
content lit up their grimy features, and unthinkingly they drew out their
handkerchiefs.
“Oh!” cried Will with a look of dismay.
“Never mind,” said Henry, composedly. “Just keep yours, and I’ll keep
mine, and they’ll make the very best kind of a slate-cloth, and when they
get worn out for that, the ragman will buy them at a cent a pound. Now,
Will, just look at these pistols; they are as clean as a snow-storm!”
This sublime comparison restored Will’s cheerfulness, and together they
wended their way outside to wash.
“Will,” he said, “to show you how _very_ careful I am, we won’t load this
pair of pistols till just before we go. All the accidents you read about
in the newspapers come from loaded pistols and revolvers lying around
loose; so we’ll cheat fate, and not load them till the last minute. And,”
he added, “to be still more careful, _you may load them both yourself_.”
But where Will was concerned, Fate was not to be cheated so easily; in
fact, on this occasion, Henry was “only playing into her hands.”
For some reason, neither of the boys said anything to Mr. or Mrs.
Mortimer about their intended expedition, wishing, according to their
account, to have a “tale to tell” the next morning. Although they kept
saying to each other that they would be doing nothing wrong, it is
probable they feared Mr. Mortimer might think they would be better at
home than at the Demon’s Cave. To do them justice, it must be stated
that neither meditated doing any harm; they wished only to effect an
entrance into the cave. They were certain that they would reach home by
bedtime; and then, the affair being all over, they could narrate their
adventures at their leisure. They were observing boys, and knew well
enough that when they returned in triumph and safety, their little prank
would be excused; and far from being blamed, they would be regarded with
admiration--even lionized.
Yes, Will and Henry were wise in their day and generation.
In the morning Henry had said to his mother: “Ma, could you get supper
earlier than usual to-night? Will and I want to go out about sundown.
We’ll tell you all about it afterwards.”
Mrs. Mortimer supposed, of course, that everything was all right, and
never thought of questioning them as to whither they were going. She,
good soul, promised to get an early supper on purpose for them, and even
proposed that they should take some eatables with them. The boys heartily
agreed to this--not that they cared to eat on the way; but they thought
it would become them, as armed heroes, to take along a knapsack of food.
When supper was announced the impatient knights-errant hastily ate it.
Then Henry put some tempting sandwiches--the eatables his kind mother had
prepared--into his satchel, or knapsack, and called to Will to get ready.
“Now, Will,” he said, as they flew up stairs to his room, “we must hurry
like a train of cars behind time. It is getting late, and you must
load the pistols as fast as you can, while I change my boots. Here is
everything you want in this drawer, and you know just where to lay your
hand on whatever you want.”
“Oh, yes,” said Will.
“See, Will, here’s a big jack-knife for you, and another for me. They’re
the toughest and grittiest old fellows you ever saw; stick this one into
your pocket.”
So they armed their persons with these formidable and bulky knives. Did
they expect to kill anyone, or to be killed themselves?
Will felt no uneasiness about taking a pocket-knife, however big it might
be; but he looked at the pistols with awe.
“You secured the compass before supper?” asked Henry.
“Yes.”
“Then don’t stand fooling, Will, but load the pistols.”
The sun had set, and the boys’ bedroom facing the east, it was somewhat
dark within it. Will knew he must hurry, for it was getting late, and
Henry would soon be ready. His old dread about taking the pistols
returned, and his hand trembled with suppressed excitement as he snatched
them up.
“I’ll load ’em,” he said desperately, “but I don’t like to do it.”
“Don’t be chicken-hearted at the last minute, Will; you know I rely on
you to help me;” Henry called out, from the adjoining room.
“Never mind,” Will replied confusedly, as he opened the drawer of which
Henry had spoken. There were many things in this drawer, arranged in
excellent order, Henry thought; but to anyone else, everything seemed
to be in appalling _dis_order, as though thrown into it at random.
Boxes, strings, cords, fishhooks, slate-pencils, lead-pencils, discarded
buttons; a glass ink-bottle that a blue-eyed girl had once given him
for prompting her against the rules; a top that a dead brother had spun
in days gone by; a diary that began with a grand flourish and ended
miserably on the fifth page; and several other things, were stowed away
in that drawer. If the reader wishes to know _exactly_ what its contents
were, let him look into the sanctum of such a boy as Henry.
Groping among these things, Will found his cousin’s powder-flask, poured
a generous charge into the barrel of both pistols, and then rammed in a
wad.
“Ready?” asked Henry, as he slipped on the second boot.
“Oh, yes; in a minute;” Will replied, becoming very much confused.
Fumbling in the drawer again, he drew out a box which he supposed held
the bullets. Tearing off the lid without stopping to examine what the
soft black balls really were, he dropped one into each barrel, and
secured it with a wad.
Poor boy! Of course he had made a blunder, and mistaken artificial balls,
that Henry had made for his little brothers pog-gun, for leaden bullets!
These balls were made of tow, soaked in water, and then rounded into
shape. They were excellent for a pop-gun, but rather out of place in a
pistol.
Poor knights-errant! They were not armed even so well as Henry imagined.
In case of an attack from the demon, all that they could rely on would be
their jack-knives.
Unconscious of his mistake, Will observed, with a sigh of relief, “There,
they’re loaded! I’m not much used to loading pistols, Henry; but I know
better than to put the balls in first!”
“Then why didn’t you say so before?” Henry demanded, as he stepped into
the room. “You are too nervous, Will; you ought to take things coolly, as
I do. Of course the pistols are all right; but let me see them.”
Taking them up, he said, with an amused smile: “It’s pretty dark here,
Will, _but I think I could see the caps, if they were on_!”
“Oh!” was all poor Will could say.
Henry hurried to his drawer, found his box of caps, and speedily remedied
Will’s neglect. But he did not see the mistake Will had made about the
balls.
Then each boy thrust a pistol into his coat pocket, and looked every inch
a redoubtable hero.
“Never mind shutting up the drawer, Will; never mind doing anything;”
Henry cried impatiently. “It is nearly a quarter to seven; so let us
hurry, and we’ll swoop down on the demon just in the nick of time.”
As they passed out of the house, Henry’s little sister asked where they
were going.
“Wait till we come back, Topsy, and we’ll have a whole story-book full of
tales to tell you,” said Henry. “We are going to do something wonderful,
and perhaps we’ll find something to bring back to you. Topsy, tell your
baby brother that if we meet Jack the Giant Killer, we’ll smash his head
for him.”
A minute later, the boys were fairly on their way to the cave.
“Henry, there is a question I want to ask you,” said Will, as they strode
along. “It will be so late when we get home, and we shall be so tired;
why didn’t we start early in the afternoon?”
“Ho! what a question! Why, Will, I’m astonished at you! What would be
the fun in going in daylight? Don’t you see, _night_ makes everything
solemn and romantic, and spurs a fellow on to be very brave--so brave
that he wouldn’t be afraid of the skeleton of a devil-fish. Will, do you
ever read novels? stories? legends?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t the heroes do all their noble deeds at night? Villains and
ruffians prowl around at night, and the heroes know that, and lay their
plans to grapple them. Will, when different nations go to war, like two
dogs over a bone, if they can only manage to do the fighting at night,
they always do. And then what a battle there is.”
He held forth in this strain till he became almost eloquent; but wound
up by saying, with great inconsistency, “Besides, it isn’t night at all;
it’s only evening.”
To all this Will meekly assented.
“As for being tired,” Henry continued, with intense disgust, “you’re no
true boy, Will, if you care a straw for that, when such sport is in view.”
“No, of course not!” Will hastily replied. But he asked himself whether
his cousin had any of Marmaduke’s notions.
“Well,” after a pause, “I _did_ have a reason for coming at this
particular time. I know a good-natured fellow that comes along this way
every evening with a team. I see him coming now; and he’ll give us a
ride, as sure as our pistols are loaded. He’ll set us down not far from
the cave, and that will be a great help; and, Will, if you are tired, ten
to one we’ll get a ride going home!”
Will began to think his cousin was a strangely contrary boy.
Mr. Mortimer’s house stood in the suburbs of the town, which the boys
had now left entirely behind. Eagerly they hurried on, but the teamster
soon overtook them, and as Henry had said, he offered them a ride. As
they rattled on over the dusty road, they felt that this world is very
beautiful, after all; and that it is a fine thing to have a teamster for
a friend.
When they left him they were within a quarter of a mile of their
destination.
It was between two hills that they alighted, the road coming down one,
crossing a bridge that spanned a little stream, and then going up
another. The land on either side was low,--even marshy in places,--and
used principally for pasturage. To the left of the road there were no
banks; but to the right, for a long way up the stream, there were high
and steep banks, with a wide valley between them. It was in one of these
banks that the cave was situated.
The cousins ran across the road, and down into the valley, on their way
to the demon’s abode. The teamster watched them as he drove along, and
muttered: “So _that’s_ where the rascals are going! Well, let ’em go;
I reckon they’ll soon come howling back again, very much the worse for
wear, and rather broken in wind!”
_Chapter XVIII._
THE COUSINS SEE MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR.
Will was about to follow the stream, but Henry called out to him, “Don’t
go there, Will, for the ground is too soft after the rain. Besides, we
must be careful; the demon may be prowling around; and he might see us.
Let us follow this steep bank for a little way, and then we shall find a
path leading right up to the top of it.”
It was a desert place, far from any habitation--a wilderness within sight
of a town. High above them rose an almost perpendicular bank, of _earth_,
not _rock_; while directly opposite rose a similar bank, nearly as high.
Between these lay the pasture-land. Will and Henry were sensible of the
desolation of the place; it fired their enthusiasm, and warmed their
blood; and they peered into the shadows as though they imagined a whole
band of demons lurked near, ready to spring upon them.
If they should be attacked, as Henry seemed to fear, so far from help,
his pistols and pocket-knives would be frail weapons of defence.
They soon reached the path leading upwards, and began to ascend.
“Henry, wouldn’t it be better to go boldly up to the door of the cave,
and knock?” Will asked. “Surely, the demon would let us in, and show us
around; and if he should, of course, he would let us out again.”
“No, Will; that wouldn’t do at all. The demon never lets any one into
his cave; and as I told you, the story runs that whoever he _takes_ in
never gets out again. If we should knock at his door he would be on his
guard, and I doubt whether we should be able to get in at all. Besides,
it wouldn’t be poetical to get in that way. No; we must entice him out,
and then rush in like a whirlwind.”
“But how are we to get out again?”
“Now, Will, I don’t mean _you_ when I say it; but that is a coward’s
thought. I never troubled myself about that--in fact, I never let such an
idea come into my head. If we had wanted to get in that way, we should
have stayed down in the valley. By going around on the top of the hill,
as we are, we can lay a trap that the demon will certainly fall into. You
see, Will, if we want to get fun out of this expedition, we must have a
plot. I don’t blame you for being nervous, Will; those trick-playing boys
at your place have unsettled your nerves, and unstrung your faculties;
but if you stay with me long enough, I’ll string them up till you are
ready for anything.”
Will heaved a sigh, blinked painfully, and said, “Thank you!”
Henry resumed: “Yes, Will, I think we can safely leave that question till
we get ready to go out. Some way will be found then, never fear. The main
point is to get in; it will be easy enough to get out.”
“Let us stop a minute, and look around,” Will said, as they strode warily
along on the brow of the hill.
“By all means, Will. Here,” stretching out his arms, and speaking with
theatrical vehemence, “here is scenery! This is where the travelling
photographers come to astonish themselves!”
A splendid view was obtained from this elevation; the country could be
seen for a long distance, and glimpses were caught of three or four towns
besides Henry’s.
But the writer seems to forget that he is not a school-girl writing a
prize composition in description of some far distant and romantic land of
which she, in her younger days, had learned a piece of poetry, difficult
and tiresome, but studded with beautiful metaphors that fired her budding
genius.
A great many dumb beasts, but no human beings, were in sight.
Henry soon broke the silence by saying, “Come, Will, we must go on.”
They hurried along on the brow of the long hill, conversing in low tones.
Still no appearance of the demon. There was a well-beaten path, evidently
worn by the demon himself, which they followed. After following this path
for a few minutes, Henry suddenly stopped, and said in a hoarse whisper:
“Will, I think we are directly over the cave. Hush! Keep very still, and
look out for danger; but be as collected as a desperado. We are two to
one; so there is nothing to be afraid of. Now, Will, crouch down, and
we’ll lay our plans right over the demon’s head. He can’t hear us, and I
want to make everything clear to you. Don’t you see, Will, its a striking
idea to plot and scheme over the very cave itself?”
“Yes, it’s just like outlaws,” said Will.
“Well, by going on a little farther, we shall find another path leading
down this hill into the valley. We must take that path, so that we can
come up to the cave from behind. The demon will never suspect any one of
coming from that direction, and he will be trapped nicely. We can get
behind the big old tree you see down there, and then fire! You see, Will,
we had to come this roundabout way over his cave; it would never do to
pass in front of it, and run the risk of being seen.”
Will saw, and admired Henry’s stratagem.
“It makes me think of Robinson Crusoe and his cave,” he whispered, as
they rose and went on.
Soon they reached the path leading downwards, which they descended
warily, and then found themselves once more in the valley. A few steps
ahead was a monstrous old tree, lying flat on the ground, and jutting out
towards the opposite bank; while farther along, round an angle, was the
entrance into the cave. Any person behind that tree would be effectually
hidden from that entrance; and, of course, that entrance would be hidden
from him.
Henry’s plan was to fire, and then keep a sharp look-out over the tree
till the demon should come out and place some distance between himself
and his cave, looking for the cause of the loud noise. He imagined that
what with the angle, the surrounding cliffs, and the echoes that would
follow, it would be impossible for a person in the cave to tell the exact
place from which the report came. When the demon should be at a safe
distance from his cave, Henry and Will would dash into it.
Henry thought they would be perfectly safe; for would they not be
protected on every side, except from the rear?
From the rear!
When they reached the foot of the hill, they paused and looked warily,
even fearfully, up the valley. But it was fast getting dark, and they
did not see a man who crouched against the cliff in time to escape
observation.
He was the man commonly called the Demon.
The cousins turned and proceeded slowly and circumspectly toward their
ambush, fearing every minute that the demon might appear in front of
them. As they went they conversed in whispers. The man, or demon,
followed so closely behind them that he heard every word; and yet so
carefully did he tread that they were not aware of his presence. As
will be seen, he gathered the whole plan of attack from their whispered
conversation, and took his measures accordingly.
“Now, Will, we must settle the last details of our plot,” Henry said.
“You may fire your pistol, Will, but I’ll keep my fire till I see whether
we need it or not. I’ll climb the trunk of the tree, when we think it is
safe, from your shoulder, and then pull you up. Of course we can jump
from the tree to the ground, and then, to run for the cave!”
“But suppose the demon isn’t in his cave?”
“That’s just what we’re afraid of, Will, and we are only taking our
chances. He ought to be in at this time of night, eating his supper and
tormenting his captives--if he has any. He _must_ be in! I feel that we
haven’t come all the way here for nothing; I feel that we are in for a
grand adventure! And what will the demon say when he finds two armed boys
in his den!”
“Suppose he won’t come out when I fire? He may be too cute to rush out,
and leave the door open, and straggle off.”
“Oh, do quit supposing! If he won’t come out, we will shove our way in.
If he is a good old man, we must cheer him up, and help him; but if he is
a wicked old knave, with captives and treasures, we must set them free,
and plunder him for the National Treasury. Here we are at the tree, Will;
get out your pistol ready to fire. No, wait! Let me take a look over the
log, to see that he isn’t prowling around there.”
After much scrambling, Henry succeeded in climbing upon the tree. Will
stood by, fumbling idly with the pistol. The demon, a few steps behind,
pressed close against the cliff, and remained unseen.
“I don’t see anything of the demon,” Henry whispered, from the trunk of
the tree. “Don’t fire till I slip down, because he might pop out quick,
and see me. In a minute or two, I’ll venture up again.”
Before he had finished speaking he was on the ground; and, as bravely as
a war-worn general, he said, in a higher key than Will’s proximity made
necessary: “FIRE!”