A COMICAL COMET.
The business of the printing-office went on pretty steadily, so far as
Ned and I were concerned. Phaeton's passion for invention would
occasionally lead him off for a while into some other enterprise; yet
he, too, seemed to take a steady interest in "the art deservative." The
most notable of those enterprises was originated by Monkey Roe, who had
considerable invention, but lacked Phaeton's powers of execution.
One day Monkey came to the door of the office with Mitchell's
"Astronomy" in his hand, and called out Phaeton.
"There's some mischief on foot now," said Ned; "and if Fay goes off
fooling with any of Monkey Roe's schemes, we shall hardly be able to
print the two thousand milk-tickets that John Spencer ordered
yesterday. It's too bad."
When they had gone so far from the office that we could not hear their
conversation, I saw Monkey open the book and point out something to
Phaeton. They appeared to carry on an earnest discussion for several
minutes, after which they laid the book on the railing of the fence and
disappeared, going by the postern.
Ned ran out, and brought in the book. On looking it over, we found a
leaf turned down at the chapter on comets. Neither of us had studied
astronomy.
"I know what they're up to," said Ned, after taking a long look at a
picture of Halley's comet. "I heard the other day that Mr. Roe was
learning the art of stuffing birds. I suppose Monkey wants Fay to help
him shoot one of those things, or catch it alive, may be, and sell it
to his father."
Then I took a look at the picture, and read a few lines of the text.
"I don't think it's quite fair in Fay," continued Ned, "to go off on
speculations of that sort for himself alone, and leave us here to do
all the work in the office, when he has an equal share of our profits."
"Ned," said I, "I don't believe this is a bird."
"Well, then, it's a fish," said Ned, who had gone back to his case and
was setting type. "They stuff fishes, as well as birds."
"But it seems to me it can hardly be a fish," said I, after another
look.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't see any fins."
"That's nothing," said Ned. "My book of natural history says a fish's
tail is a big fin. And I'm sure that fellow has tail enough to get
along very well without any other fins."
This did not satisfy me, and at length we agreed to go and consult
Jack-in-the-Box about it.
"Jack," said Ned, as soon as we arrived at the Box, "did you ever stuff
a fish?"
"Do you take me for a cook?" said Jack, looking considerably puzzled.
"I don't mean a fish to bake," said Ned. "I mean one to be put in a
glass case, and kept in a museum."
"Oh," said Jack, "I beg pardon. I didn't understand. No, I never
stuffed a fish."
"But, I suppose you know all about how it's done?" said Ned.
"Oh, yes; I understand it in a general way."
"What I want to get at," said Ned, "is this: how much is a fish worth
that's suitable for stuffing?"
"I don't know exactly," said Jack, "but I should say different ones
would probably bring different prices, according to their rarity."
"That sounds reasonable," said Ned. "Now, how much should you say a
fellow would probably get for one of this sort?" and he opened the
Astronomy at the picture of Halley's comet.
Something was the matter with Jack's face. It twitched around in all
sorts of ways, and his eyes sparkled with a kind of electric light. But
he passed his hand over his features, took a second look at the
picture, and answered:
"If you can catch one of those, I should say it would command a very
high price."
"So I thought," said Ned. "Should you say as much as a hundred dollars,
Jack?"
"I should not hesitate to say fully two hundred," said Jack, as he took
his flag and went out doors to signal a freight-train.
"I see it all, as plain as day," said Ned to me, as we walked away.
"Fay has gone off to make a lot of money by what father would call an
outside speculation, and left us to dig away at the work in the
office."
"Perhaps he'll go shares with us," said I.
"No, he won't," said Ned. "But I have an idea. I think I can take a
hand in that speculation."
"How will you do it?"
"I'll offer Fay and Monkey a hundred dollars for their fish, if they
catch it. That'll seem such a big price, they'll be sure to take it.
And then I'll sell it for two hundred, as Jack says. So I'll make as
much money as both of them together. And I must give Jack a handsome
present for telling me about it."
"That seems to be a good plan," said I. "And I hope they'll catch two,
so that I can buy one and speculate on it. But, then," I added,
sorrowfully, "I haven't the hundred dollars to pay for it, and there's
no Aunt Mercy in our family, and we don't live on the Bowl System."
"Never mind," said Ned, in a comforting tone. "Perhaps you'll inherit a
big fortune from some old grandmother you never heard of, till she died
and they ripped open her bed-tick and let the gold tumble out. Lots of
people do."
As we arrived home, we saw Phaeton and Monkey coming by the postern
with half a dozen hoops--that is to say, half a dozen long, thin strips
of ash, which would have been hoops after the cooper had bent them into
circles and fastened the ends together.
"That's poor stuff to make fish-poles," said Ned, in a whisper; "but
don't let them know that we know what they're up to."
They brought them into the office, got some other pieces of wood, and
went to work constructing a light frame about ten feet long, three feet
high at the highest part, and a foot wide--like that shown in the
engraving.
[Illustration: THE FRAME.]
"What are you making, Fay?" said Ned.
"Wait a while, and you'll see," said Phaeton.
Ned winked at me in a knowing way, and we went on printing
milk-tickets.
When the frame was completed, Monkey and Phaeton went away.
"I see," whispered Ned. "They're going to catch him with a net. The
netting will be fastened on all around here, and this big end left open
for him to go in. Then, when he gets down to this round part, he'll
find he can't go any farther, and then they'll haul him up. It's all as
plain as day."
But when Monkey and Phaeton returned, in about half an hour, instead of
netting they brought yellow tissue-paper and several candles.
We pretended to take very little interest in the proceeding, but
watched them over our shoulders. When we saw them fasten the
tissue-paper all around the frame, except on the top, and fit the
candles into auger-holes bored in the cross-pieces at the bottom, Ned
whispered to me again:
"Don't you see? That isn't a net. They're going to have a light in it,
and carry it along the shore to attract the fish. It's plain enough
now."
"If you'll be on hand to-night," said Monkey, "and follow us, you may
see some fun."
"All right! We'll be on hand," said Ned and I.
In the evening we all met in the office--all except Phaeton, who was a
little late.
"Monkey," said Ned, in a confidential tone, "I want to make you an
offer."
"Offer away," answered Monkey.
"If you catch one," said Ned, "I'll give you a hundred dollars for it."
"If I catch one?" said Monkey. "If--I--catch--one? Oh, yes--all right!
I'll give you whatever I catch, for that price. Though I may not catch
anything but Hail Columbia."
"But I won't take it unless it's the kind they stuff," said Ned.
"The kind--they--stuff?" said Monkey. "Did you say the kind _they_
stuff, or the kind _of_ stuff? Oh, yes--the kind of Hail Columbia they
stuff. That would be a bald eagle, I should think."
At this moment Phaeton joined us.
"It's no use, Fay," said Monkey. "Jack won't let us hoist it on the
signal-pole. He says it might mislead some of the engineers, and work
mischief."
"Hoist it on the signal-pole," whispered Ned to me. "Then it's a bird
they're going to catch, after all, and not a fish. I see it now.
Probably some wonderful kind of night-hawk."
"Well, then, what do you think is the next best place?" said Phaeton.
"I think Haven's barn, by all odds," Monkey answered promptly.
"Haven's barn it is, then," said Phaeton, and they shouldered the thing
and walked off, we following.
Before we arrived at the barn, Holman, Charlie Garrison, and at least a
dozen other boys had joined us, one by one.
The numerous ells and sheds attached to this barn enabled Monkey and
Phaeton to mount easily to the ridgepole of the highest part, where
they fastened the monster, and quickly lighted all her battle-lanterns,
when she blazed out against the blackness of the night like some
terrific portent.
"Now you stay here and keep her in order," said Monkey, "while I go for
Adams."
Mr. Adams was an amateur astronomer of considerable local celebrity,
whose little observatory, built by himself, was about fifty rods
distant from Haven's barn. Unfortunately, his convivial habits were as
famous as his scientific attainments, and Roe knew about where to find
him. I went with him on the search.
We went first to the bar-room of the "Cataract House, by James Tone,"
but we did not find him there.
"Then," said Roe, "I know where he is, for sure," and he went to a
dingy, wooden building on State street, which had small windows with
red curtains. This building was ornamented with a poetical sign, which
every boy in town knew by heart, and could sing to the tune of "Oats,
peas, beans."
W. WHEELER KEEPS IN HERE,
SELLS GROCERIES, CIDER, ALE, AND BEER;
HIS PRODUCE IS GOOD, HIS WEIGHT IS JUST,
HIS PROFITS SMALL, AND CANNOT TRUST;
AND THOSE WHO BUY SHALL BE WELL USED,
SHALL NOT BE CHEATED, NOR ABUSED.
"Is Professor Adams present?" said Monkey, as he opened the door and
peered through a cloud of tobacco smoke.
An individual behind the stove returned a drowsy affirmative.
Roe stepped around to him, and with a great show of secrecy whispered
something in his ear.
He sprang from his chair, exclaimed, "Good night, gentlemen! You will
wake up to-morrow morning to find me famous," and dashed out at the
door.
"What is it?" said one of the loungers, detaining Monkey as he was
about to leave.
"A comet," whispered Monkey.
"A comet, gentlemen--a blazing comet!" repeated the man aloud; and the
whole company rose and followed the astronomer to his observatory. When
they arrived there, they found him sitting with his eye at the
instrument, uttering exclamations of thankfulness that he had lived to
make this great discovery.
[Illustration: "A COMET, GENTLEMEN--A BLAZING COMET!"]
"Not Biela's, not Newton's, not Encke's--not a bit like any of them,"
said he; "all my own, gentlemen--entirely my own!"
Then he took up his slate, and went to figuring upon it. Several of the
crowd, who were now jammed close together around him in the little
octagonal room, made generous offers of assistance.
"I was always good at the multiplication-table," said one of them.
"I have a fine, clear eye," said another; "can't I help yez aim the
pipe?"
This excited a laugh of derision from another, who inquired whether the
man with the fine, clear eye "didn't know a pipe from a chube?"
Another rolled up his sleeves, and said he was ready to take his turn
at the crank for the cause of science; while still another expressed
his willingness to blow the bellows all night, if Professor Adams would
show him where the handle was.
They all insisted on having a peep at the comet through the telescope,
and with some jostling took turns about.
One man, after taking a look, murmured solemnly:
"That thing bodes no good to this city; I'm going home to make my
will," and elbowed his way out of the room.
"Ah, Professor," said another, "your fortune's made for all time.
This'll be known to fame as the Great American Comet. I dare say it's
as big as all the comets of the old world put together."
Mr. Wheeler took an unusually long look.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I don't believe that comet will stay with us
long. We'd better leave the Professor to his calculations, while we go
back and have a toast to his great discovery."
But nobody stirred. Then Mr. Wheeler left the observatory, and walked
straight up to Haven's barn. He picked up a cart-stake, swung it around
his head, and hurled it; and, in the twinkling of an eye, that comet
had passed its perihelion, and shot from the solar system in so long an
ellipse that I fear it will never return.
Unfortunately, the flying cart-stake not only put out the comet, but
struck Phaeton, who had been left there by Monkey Roe to manage the
thing, and put his arm out of joint. He bore it heroically, and climbed
down to the ground alone before he told us what had happened. Then, as
he nearly fainted away, we helped him home, while Holman ran for the
family physician, who arrived in a few minutes and set the arm.
"It serves me right," said Phaeton, "for ever lending myself to any of
Monkey Roe's schemes to build a mere fool-thing."
"I'm sorry you're hurt," said Ned; "but it does seem as if that comet
was a silly machine, only intended to deceive me and Professor Adams,
instead of being for the good of mankind, like your other inventions.
And now you won't be able to do anything in the printing-office for a
long while, just when we're crowded with work. If you were not my own
brother, and such an awful good fellow, we wouldn't let you have any
share of the profits for the next month."