Within half an hour after Jacaro's leaving, Smithers was in the
village, laying in a stock of supplies and sending telegrams that
Tommy had written out for transmission. Tommy sat facing an ashen Von
Holtz and told him pleasantly what would be done to him if he failed
to make the metallic ammonium needed to repair the big solenoid. In an
hour, Smithers was back, reporting that Jacaro was also sending
telegrams but that he, Smithers, had stood over the telegraph operator
until his own messages were transmitted. He brought back weapons,
too--highly illegal things to have in New York State, where a citizen
is only law-abiding when defenseless. And then four days of hectic,
sleepless labor began.
On the first day one of Tommy's friends drove in in answer to a
telegram. It was Peter Dalzell, with men in uniform apparently
festooned about his car. He announced that a placard warning passersby
of smallpox within, had been added to the decorative signs upon the
gate, and stared incredulously at the interior of the big brick barn.
Tommy grinned at him and gave him plans and specifications of a light
steel globe in which two men might be transported into the fifth
dimension by a suitably operating device. Tommy had sat up all night
drawing those plans. He told Dalzell just enough of what he was up
against to enlist Dalzell's enthusiastic cooperation without
permitting him to doubt Tommy's sanity. Dalzell had known Tommy as an
amateur tennis player, but not as a scientist.
He marveled, refused to believe his eyes when he looked through the
dimensoscope, and agreed that the whole thing had to be kept secret or
the rescue expedition would be prevented from starting by the
incarceration of both Tommy and Smithers in comfortable insane
asylums. He feigned to admire Von Holtz, deathly white and nearly
frantic with a corroding rage, and complimented Tommy on his taste for
illegality. He even asked Von Holtz if he wanted to leave, and Von
Holtz snarled insults at him. Von Holtz was beginning to work at the
manufacture of metallic ammonium.
* * * * *
It was an electrolytic process, of course. Ordinarily,
when--say--ammonium chloride is broken down by an electric current,
ammonium is deposited at the cathode and instantly becomes a gas which
dissolves in the water or bubbles up to the surface. With a mercury
cathode, it is dissolved and becomes a metallic amalgam, which also
breaks down into gas with much bubbling of the mercury. But Denham had
worked out a way of delaying the breaking-down, which left him with a
curiously white, spongy mass of metal which could be carefully melted
down and cast, but not under any circumstances violently struck or
strained.
Von Holtz was working at that. On the second day he delivered,
snarling, a small ingot of the white metal. He was imprisoned in the
lean-to-shed in which the electrolysis went on. But Tommy had more
than a suspicion that he was in communication with Jacaro.
"Of course," he said drily to Smithers, who had expressed his doubts.
"Jacaro had somebody sneak up and talk to him through the walls, or
maybe through a bored hole. While there's a hope of finding out what
he wants to know through Von Holtz, Jacaro won't try anything. Not
anything rough, anyhow. We mustn't be bumped off while what we are
doing is in our heads alone. We're safe enough--for a while."
Smithers grumbled.
"We need that ammonium," said Tommy, "and I don't know how to make it.
I bluffed that I could, and in time I might, but it would need time
and meanwhile Denham needs us. Dalzell is going to send a plane over
today, with word of when we can expect our own globe. We'll try to
have the big catapult ready when it comes. And the plane will drop
some extra supplies. I've ordered a sub-machine gun. Handy when we get
over there in the tree-fern forests. Right now, though, we need to be
watching...."
Because they were taking turns looking through the dimensoscope. For
signs of Denham and Evelyn. And Tommy was finding himself thinking
wholly unscientific thoughts about Evelyn, since a pretty girl in
difficulties is of all possible things the one most likely to make a
man romantic.
* * * * *
In the four days of their hardest working, he saw her three times. The
globe was wrecked and ruined. Its glass was broken out and its
interior ripped apart. It had been pillaged so exhaustively that there
was no hope that whatever device had been included in its design, for
its return, remained even repairably intact. That device had not
worked, to be sure, but Tommy puzzled sometimes over the fact that he
had seen no mechanical device of any sort in the plunder that had been
brought out to be demolished. But he did not think of those things
when he saw Evelyn.
The Ragged Men's encampment was gone, but she and her father lingered
furtively, still near the pillaged globe. The first day Tommy saw her,
she was still blooming and alert. The second day she was paler. Her
clothing was ripped and torn, as if by thorns. Denham had a great raw
wound upon his forehead, and his coat was gone and half his shirt was
in ribbons. Before Tommy's eyes they killed a nameless small animal
with the trunchionlike weapon Evelyn carried. And Denham carted it
triumphantly off into the shelter of the tree-fern forest. But to
Tommy that shelter began to appear extremely dubious.
That same afternoon some of the Ragged Men came suspiciously to the
globe and inspected it, and then vented a gibbering rage upon it with
blows and curses. They seemed half-mad, these men. But then, all the
Ragged Men seemed a shade less than sane. Their hatred for the Golden
City seemed the dominant emotion of their existence.
And when they had gone, Tommy saw Denham peering cautiously from
behind a screening mass of fern. And Denham looked sick at heart. His
eyes lifted suddenly to the heavens, and he stared off into the
distance again, and then he regarded the heavens again with an
expression that was at once of the utmost wistfulness and the
uttermost of despair.
* * * * *
Tommy swung the dimensoscope about and searched the skies of that
other world. He saw the flying machine, and it was a swallow-winged
device that moved swiftly, and now soared and swooped in abrupt short
circles almost overhead. Tommy could see its pilot, leaning out to
gaze downward. He was no more than a hundred feet up, almost at the
height of the tree-fern tops. And the pilot was moving too swiftly for
Tommy to be able to focus accurately upon his face, but he could see
him as a man, an indubitable man in no fashion distinguishable from
the other men of this earth. He was scrutinizing the globe as well as
he could without alighting.
He soared upward, suddenly, and his plane dwindled as it went toward
the Golden City.
And then, inevitably, Tommy searched for the four Ragged Men who had
inspected the globe a little while since. He saw them, capering
horribly behind a screening of verdure. They did not shake their
clenched fists at the flying machine. Instead, they seemed filled with
a ghastly mirth. And suddenly they began to run frantically for the
far distance, as if bearing news of infinite importance.
And when he looked back at Denham, it seemed to Tommy that he wrung
his hands before he disappeared.
* * * * *
But that was the second day of the work upon our own world, and just
before sunset there was a droning in the earthly sky above the
laboratory, and Tommy ran out, and somebody shot at him from a patch
of woodland a quarter of a mile away from the brick building. Isolated
as Denham's place was, the shot would go unnoticed. The bullet passed
within a few feet of Tommy, but he paid no attention. It was one of
Jacaro's watchers, no doubt, but Jacaro did not want Tommy killed. So
Tommy waited until the plane swooped low--almost to the level of the
laboratory roof--and a thickly padded package thudded to the ground.
He picked it up and darted back into the laboratory as other bullets
came from the patch of woodland.
"Funny," he said dryly to Smithers, inside the laboratory again; "they
don't dare kill me--yet--and Von Holtz doesn't dare leave or refuse to
do what I tell him to do; and yet they expect to lick us."
Smithers growled. Tommy was unpacking the wrapped package. A grim,
blued-steel thing came out of much padding. Boxes tumbled after it.
"Sub-machine gun," said Tommy, "and ammunition. Jacaro and his little
pals will try to get in here when they think we've got the big
solenoid ready for use. They'll try to get it before we can use it.
This will attend to them."
"An' get us in jail," said Smithers calmly, "for forty-'leven years."
"No," said Tommy, and grinned. "We'll be in the fifth dimension. Our
job is to fling through the catapult all the stuff we'll need to make
another catapult to fling us back again."
"It can't be done," said Smithers flatly.
"Maybe not," agreed Tommy, "especially since we ruin all our springs
and one gymbal ring every time we use the thing. But I've got an idea.
I'll want five coils with hollow iron cores, and the whole works
shaped like this, with two holes bored so...."
* * * * *
He sketched. He had been working on the idea for several days, and the
sketch was ready in his mind to be transferred to paper.
"What you goin' to do?"
"Something crazy," said Tommy. "A mirror isn't the only thing that
changes angles to right ones."
"You're the doctor," said the imperturbable Smithers.
He set to work. He puzzled Tommy sometimes, Smithers did. So far he
hadn't asked how much his pay was going to be. He'd worked
unintermittantly. He had displayed a colossal, a tremendous calmness.
But no man could work as hard as Smithers did without some powerful
driving-force. It was on the fourth day that Tommy learned what it
was.
The five coils had been made, and Tommy was assembling them with an
extraordinary painstaking care behind a screen, to hide what he was
doing. He'd discovered a peep-hole bored through the brick wall from
the lean-to where Von Holtz worked. He was no longer locked in there.
Tommy abandoned the pretense of imprisonment after finding an
automatic pistol and a duplicate key to the lock in Von Holtz's
possession. He'd had neither when he was theoretically locked up, and
Tommy laughed.
"It's a farce, Von Holtz," he said dryly, "this pretending you'll run
away. You're here spying now, for Jacaro. Of course. And you don't
dare harm either of us until you find out from me what you can't work
out for yourself, and know I have done. How much is Jacaro going to
pay you for the secret of the catapult, Von Holtz?"
Von Holtz snarled. Smithers moved toward him, his hands closing and
unclosing. Von Holtz went gray with terror.
"Talk!" said Smithers.
"A--a million dollars," said Von Holtz, cringing away from the brawny
red-headed man.
"It would be interesting to know what use it would be to him," said
Tommy dryly. "But to earn that million you have to learn what we know.
And to learn that, you have to help us do it again, on the scale we
want. You won't run away. So I shan't bother to lock you up hereafter.
Jacaro's men come and talk to you at night, don't they?"
* * * * *
Von Holtz cringed again. It was an admission.
"I don't want to have to kill any of them," said Tommy pleasantly,
"and we'll all be classed as mad if this thing gets out. So you go and
talk to them in the lane when you want to, Von Holtz. But if any of
them come near the laboratory, Smithers and I will kill them, and if
Smithers is hurt I'll kill you; and I don't imagine Jacaro wants that,
because he expects you to build another catapult for him. But I warn
you, if I find another gun on you I'll thrash you."
Von Holtz's pallor changed subtly from the pallor of fear to the awful
lividness of rage.
"You--Gott! You dare threaten--" He choked upon his own fury.
"I do," said Tommy. "And I'll carry out the threat."
Smithers moved forward once more.
"Mr. Von Holtz," he said in a very terrible steadiness, "I aim to kill
you some time. I ain't done it yet because Mr. Reames says he needs
you a while. But I know you got Miss Evelyn marooned off in them
fern-woods on purpose! And--God knows she wouldn't ever look at me,
but--I aim to kill you some time!"
His eyes were flames. His hands closed and unclosed horribly. Von
Holtz gaped at him, shocked out of his fury into fear again. He went
unsteadily back to his lean-to. And Smithers went back to the
dimensoscope. It was his turn to watch that other world for signs of
Denham and Evelyn, and for any sign of danger to them.
* * * * *
Tommy adjusted the screen before the bench on which he was working, so
Von Holtz could not see his task, and went back to work. It was a
rather intricate task he had undertaken, and before the events of the
past few days he would have said it was insane. But now he was taking
it quite casually.
Presently he said:
"Smithers."
Smithers did not look away from the brass tube.
"Yeah?"
"You're thinking more about Miss Denham than her father."
Smithers did not reply for a moment. Then he said:
"Well? What if I am?"
"I am, too," said Tommy quietly. "I've never spoken to her, and I
daresay she's never even heard of me, and she certainly has never seen
me, but--"
Smithers said with a vast calmness:
"She'll never look at me, Mr. Reames. I know it. She talks to me, an'
laughs with me, but she's never sure-'nough looked at me. An' she
never will. But I got the right to love her."
Tommy nodded very gravely.
"Yes. You have. So have I. And so, when that globe comes, we both get
into it with what arms and ammunition we can pack in, and go where she
is, to help her. I intended to have you work the switch and send me
off. But you can come, too."
Smithers was silent. But he took his eyes from the dimensoscope
eye-piece and regarded Tommy soberly. Then he nodded and turned back.
And it was a compact between the two men that they should serve
Evelyn, without any rivalry at all.
* * * * *
Tommy went on with his work. The essential defect in the catapult
Denham had designed was the fact that it practically had to be rebuilt
after each use. And, moreover, the metallic ammonium was so fugitive a
substance that it was hard to keep. Once it had been strained by
working, it gradually adverted to a gaseous state and was lost. And
while he still tried to keep the little catapult in a condition for
use, he was at no time sure that he could send a pair of automatics
and ammunition through in a steel box at any moment that Denham came
close enough to notice a burning smoke-fuse attached.
But he was working on another form of catapult entirely, now. In this
case he was using hollow magnets placed at known angles to each other.
And they were so designed that each one tended to adjust its own
hollow bore at right angles to the preceding one, and each one would
take any moving, magnetic object and swing it through four successive
right angles into the fifth dimension.
He fitted the first magnet on twin rods of malleable copper, which
also would carry the current which energized the coil. He threaded the
second upon the same twin supports. When the current was passed
through the two of them, the magnetic field itself twisted the
magnets, bending the copper supports and placing the magnets in their
proper relative positions. A third magnet on the same pair of rods,
and a repetition of the experiment, proved the accuracy of the idea.
And since this device, like the dimensoscope, required only a
forty-five degree angle to our known dimensions, instead of a right
angle as the other catapult did, Tommy was able to work with ordinary
and durable materials. He fitted on the last two coils and turned on
the current for his final experiment. And as he watched, the twin
three-eighths-inch rods twisted and writhed in the grip of the
intangible magnetic force. They bent, and quivered, and twisted....
And suddenly there seemed to be a sort of inaudible _snap_, and one of
the magnets hurt the eyes that looked at it, and only the edge of the
last of the series was visible.
* * * * *
Tommy drew in his breath sharply. "Now we try it," he said tensely. "I
was trying to work this as the mirrors of the dimensoscope were
fitted. Let's see."
He took a long piece of soft-iron wire and fed it into the hollow of
the first magnet. He saw it come out and bend stiffly to enter the
hollow of the second. It required force to thrust it through. It went
still more stiffly into the third magnet. It required nearly all his
strength to thrust it on, and on.... The end of it vanished. He pushed
two feet or more of it beyond the last place where it was visible. It
went into the magnet that hurt one's eyes. After that it could not be
seen.
Tommy's voice was strained.
"Swing the dimensoscope, Smithers," he ordered. "See if you can see
the wire. The end of it should be in the other world."
It seemed an age, an aeon, that Smithers searched. Then:
"Move it," he said.
Tommy obeyed.
"It's there," said Smithers evenly. "Two or three feet of it."
* * * * *
Tommy drew a deep, swift breath of relief.
"All right!" he said crisply. "Now we can fling anything we need
through there, when our globe arrives. We can built up a dump of
supplies, all sent through just before we slide through in the globe."
"Yeah," said Smithers. "Uh--Mr. Reames. There's a bunch of Ragged Men
in sight, hauling something heavy behind them. I don't know what it's
all about."
Tommy went to the brass tube and stared through it. The tree-fern
forest, drawing away in the distance. The vast and steaming morass.
The glittering city, far, far in the distance.
And then a mob of the Ragged Men, hauling at some heavy thing. They
were a long way off. Some of them came capering on ahead, and Tommy
swung the dimensoscope about to see Denham and Evelyn dart for cover
and vanish amid the tree-ferns. Denham was as ragged as the Ragged
Men, by now, and Evelyn's case was little better.
Frightened for them, Tommy swung the instrument about again. But they
had not been seen. The leaders who ran gleefully on ahead were merely
in haste. And they were followed more slowly by burly men and lean
ones, whole men and limping men, who hauled frantically on long ropes
of hide, dragging some heavy thing behind them. Tommy saw it only
indistinctly as the filthy, nearly naked bodies moved. But it was an
intricate device of a golden-colored metal, and it rested upon the
crudest of possible carts. The wheels were sections of tree trunks,
pierced for wooden axles. The cart itself was made of the most
roughly-hewed of timbers. And there were fifty or more of the Ragged
Men who dragged it.
The men in advance now attacked the underbrush at the edge of the
forest. They worked with a maniacal energy, clearing away the long
fern-fronds while they capered and danced and babbled excitedly.
* * * * *
Irrelevantly, Tommy thought of escaped galley slaves. Just such
hard-bitten, vice-ridden men as these, and filled with just such a
mad, gibbering hatred of the free men they had escaped from. Certainly
these men had been civilized once. As the golden-metal device came
nearer, its intricacy was the more apparent. No savages could utilize
a device like this one. And there was a queer deadliness in the very
grace of its outlines. It was a weapon of some sort, but whose nature
Tommy could not even guess.
And then he caught the gleam of metal also in the fern-forest. On the
ground. In glimpses and in fragments of glimpses between the swarming
naked bodies of the Ragged Men, he pieced together a wholly incredible
impression. There was a roadway skirting the edge of the forest. It
was not wide; not more than fifteen feet at most. But it was a solid
road-bed of metal! The dull silver-white of aluminum gleamed from the
ground. Two or more inches thick and fifteen feet wide, there was a
seamless ribbon of aluminum that vanished behind the tree-ferns on
either side.
The intricate device of golden metal was set up, now, and a shaggy,
savage-seeming man mounted beside it grinning. He manipulated its
levers and wheels with an expert's assurance. And Tommy saw repairs
upon it. Crude repairs, with crude materials, but expertly done. Done
by the Ragged Men, past doubt, and so demolishing any idea that they
came of a savage race.
"Watch here, Smithers," said Tommy grimly.
* * * * *
He sat to work upon the little catapult after Denham's design. His own
had seemed to work, but the other was more sure. This would be an
ambush the Ragged Men were preparing, and of course they would be
preparing it for men of the Golden City. The plane had sighted
Denham's steel globe. It had hovered overhead, and carried news of
what it had seen to the Golden City. And here was a roadway that must
have been made by the folk of the Golden City at some time or another.
Its existence explained why Denham remained nearby. He had been hoping
that some vehicle would travel along its length, containing civilized
people to whom he could signal and ultimately explain his plight. And,
being near the steel globe, his narrative would have its proofs at
hand.
And now it was clear that the Ragged Men expected some ground-vehicle,
too. They were preparing for it. They were setting a splendid ambush,
with a highly-treasured weapon they ordinarily kept hidden. Their
triumphant hatred could apply to nothing else than an expectation of
inflicting injury on men of the Golden City.
So Tommy worked swiftly upon the catapult. A new little ring of
metallic ammonium was ready, and so were the necessary springs. The
Ragged Men would lay their ambush. The men of the Golden City might
enter it. They might. But the aviator who had spotted the globe would
have seen the shredded contents of the sphere about. He would have
known the Ragged Men had found it. And the men who came in a
ground-vehicle from the Golden City should be expecting just such an
ambush as was being laid.
There would be a fight, and Tommy, somehow, had no doubt that the men
of the Golden City would win. And when they had cleared the field he
would fling a smoking missile through the catapult. The victors should
see it and should examine it. And though writing would serve little
purpose, they should at least recognize it as written communication in
a language other than their own. And mathematical diagrams would
certainly be lucid, and proof of a civilized man sending the missile,
and photographs....
* * * * *
The catapult was ready, and Tommy prepared his message-carrying
projectile. He found snapshots and included them. He tore out a
photograph of Evelyn and her father, which had been framed above a
work bench in the laboratory. He labored, racking his brain for a
means of conveying the information that the globe was of any other
world.... And suddenly he had an idea. A cord attached to his missile
would lead to nothingness from either world, yet one end would be in
that other world, and the other end in this. A wire would be better.
Tugs upon it would convey the idea of living beings nearby but
invisible. The photograph would identify Denham and his daughter as
associated with the phenomenon and competent to explain it....
Tommy worked frantically to get the thing ready. He almost prayed that
the men of the Golden City would be victors, would find his little
missile when the fray was over, and would try to comprehend it....
All he could do was try.
Then Smithers said, from the dimensoscope:
"They're all set, Mr. Reames. Y'better look."
Tommy stared through the eye-piece. Strangely, the golden weapon had
vanished. All seemed to be exactly as before. The cleared-away
underbrush was replaced. Nothing was in any way changed from the
normal in that space upon a mad world. But there was a tiny movement
and Tommy saw a Ragged Man. He was lying prone upon the earth. He
seemed either to hear or see something, because his lips moved as he
spoke to another invisible man beside him, and his expression of
malevolent joy was horrible.
Tommy swung the tube about. Nothing.... But suddenly he saw
swiftly-moving winkings of sunlight from the edge of the tree-fern
forest. Something was moving in there, moving with lightning swiftness
along the fifteen-foot roadway of solid aluminum. It drew nearer, and
more near....
* * * * *
The carefully camouflaged ambuscade was fully focussed and Tommy was
watching tensely when the thing happened.
He saw glitterings through the tree-fronds come to a smoothly
decelerated stop. There was a pause; and suddenly the underbrush fell
flat. As if a single hand had smitten it, it wavered, drooped, and lay
prone. The golden weapon was exposed, with its brawny and horribly
grinning attendant. For one-half a split second Tommy saw the wheeled
thing in which half a dozen men of the Golden City were riding. It was
graceful and stream-lined and glittering. There was a platform on
which the steel sphere would have been mounted for carrying away.
But then there was a sudden intolerable light as the men of the Golden
City reached swiftly for peculiar weapons beside them. The light came
from the crudely mounted weapon of the Ragged Men, and it was an
unbearable actinic glare. For half a second, perhaps, it persisted,
and died away to a red flame which leaped upward and was not.
Then the vehicle from the Golden City was a smoking, twisted ruin.
Four of the six men in it were blasted, blackened crisps. Another
staggered to his feet, struggled to reach a weapon and could not lift
it, and twitched a dagger from his belt and fell forward; and Tommy
could see that his suicide was deliberate.
The last man, alone, was comparatively unharmed by the blast of light.
He swept a pistol-like contrivance into sight. It bore swiftly upon
the now surging, yelling horde of Ragged Men. And one--two--three of
them seemed to scream convulsively before they were trampled under by
the rest.
But suddenly there were a myriad little specks of red all over the
body of the man at bay. The pistol-like thing dropped from his grasp
as his whole hand became encrimsoned. And then he was buried beneath
the hating, blood-lusting mob of the forest men.