The brevity of his name, as here shown, gave as much pleasure to the
proprietor as he had suffered annoyance from his fuller and more
various name, Isidore Pollacksek Zwillenberg Stchcrbatcheff Katz. And
even his last little name had proved almost a curse, as his intimates
called him "Malty" and "Puss Katz"; also "Tom Katz" and "How Many."
But I. Katz, of black eyes and muddy complexion, was an ambitious
young man, industrious, surprisingly clever, watchful and polite. He
and Luther Dean had one desire in common--an unquenchable thirst for
wealth. There was, however, this important difference, that Katz was
willing to work for it, while Luther regarded thirst as a substitute
for effort.
When Katz's mother, Rosa Hlawatsch, married Emanuel Katz she had a
prosperous brother-in-law, Schweers Hjort, who lent the bridal pair
enough money to start for America. Two years after Isidore's birth his
parents died. Then Mr. and Mrs. Zoob Pschenitza adopted the orphan and
cared for him until his nineteenth year, when he found employment with
Mr. Hitzrot Fuss, an electrician. Mr. Hitzrot Fuss was a cousin of the
Zoob Pschenitzas.
This July morning when Luther entered his shop I. Katz had been in
business for himself about a year. The opening of the door rang a bell
that gave warning to the proprietor, at work in a little shop at the
rear. Luther walked directly to this little shop. I. Katz laid down his
work.
"Ah! Good morning, Dean."
"Same to you, Kittens."
"Haven't seen you for a long time. How are you? What's the news from
Longdeado?"
"News enough--this time."
As the two men stood by the work bench, and Katz took a second look at
his visitor's face, he said:
"What's the matter? Something on your mind?"
Luther removed his hat and coat and lit a cigarette before answering.
"Well, I should say there was. Have you any objections to being a
millionaire?"
"Not especially. Got the cash with you?"
"Not this morning. But I've got the next thing to it."
If Katz felt any excitement at this announcement he concealed it.
Perhaps he knew Luther too well. With a smile, and a slight movement of
the shoulders, he said:
"Of course it's a dead sure thing."
"It is."
"Well, that's something."
"You know, Katzy, the only sure things in this world are death and
taxes."
"Yes. So I've heard."
"Well, compared with this thing of mine, taxes are dreams and death
never happens. Listen. I can place in your hands a contrivance
hardly bigger than a dinner plate that generates electricity without
machinery; that has infinite power; that can drag railway trains of any
size at any speed and can drive an ocean steamer. It weighs about five
pounds and costs nothing to run."
Katz slowly moved his head, and frowned.
"It's a bad habit, Luther."
"What's a bad habit?"
"Cocktails in the morning. You are seeing miracles."
Luther protested. Then he explained The Thing in detail. Katz
pronounced it impossible.
"Of course it's impossible!" said Luther. "That's why it's so devilish
good. It does the impossible all day long and all night, too. Why,
Katz, it can do anything you ask it--and with no expense. God Almighty
supplies the electricity--all you want and for nothing. Can you beat
it?"
The electrician began to show interest.
"But are you pop sure it can do these things? Have you seen it work
yourself?"
Then to I. Katz, with the bright eyes and muddy complexion, Luther told
of the wonders he had seen with his own eyes--touched with his own
hands. He described the two soup plates of metal fastened together,
with the mysterious space between--the small chamber which held the
Miracle of Science. And its priceless secret to be theirs! To give some
idea of the power of these two plates he told Katz what happened to
Delos King and his load of hay. Delos King's big load of hay got stuck
in the meadow. The wheels had sunk in the mud up to the hubs. Two yokes
of oxen tried in vain to stir it. Then Cyrus Alton, carrying The Thing
in his hand went down to the meadow, fastened what Delos King thought
were two kitchen plates to the end of the pole, turned the button a
fraction of an inch and drew the big load of hay out of the bog and up
the hill as if it had been a baby carriage!
Moreover, Luther described to Katz his own experience with this device.
When fastened to his chest with straps, that went over his shoulder and
under his arms, he had turned the little button and had been lifted
gently from the floor and he floated at will near the roof of the old
barn.
"But what flabbergasted the old hard heads more than any other one
thing," continued Luther, "was the way Cyrus fixed the weather vane on
the Baptist Church. It had been struck by lightning--bent and twisted.
It's a tall spire and the deacons were trying to figure the cheapest
way of getting up there without a scaffolding, when Cyrus happened
along. 'What's it going to cost you?' he asked. 'Twenty-five dollars
at least,' they said. 'Give me twenty-five,' said Cyrus, 'and I'll do
it before night.' 'It'll take you half a day to get up there either by
rope or scaffolding,' they said. 'I can get up there in one minute,'
said Cyrus, 'after I once start.' At first they laughed, but they
agreed to pay twenty-five dollars. Then Cyrus went home--this was in
the forenoon--came back with his two soup plates; also a hammer, a
monkey wrench and a few other tools. And right there in front of the
crowd, he slung the bag of tools across his shoulders, strapped on the
soup plates, turned a button and rose up in the air like a wingless
angel. Gee! I tell you the deacons stared! Their eyes were wider open
than their mouths!"
"No wonder!" said Katz. "They had reason to be! And did he fix the
vane?"
"Well, rather! It didn't take him an hour."
Luther told of other doings that had startled Longfields; of the
metal contrivance over ten feet long that resembled a fat cigar;
how Cyrus Alton sat inside and, without apparent machinery, rose up
through an opening in the barn and sailed at will, in any direction
and to any altitude. In one evening he had sailed over the whole of
Massachusetts--and more, too.
Then I. Katz, whose bright black eyes had grown brighter and brighter,
asked many questions. All his questions were answered promptly, and so
clearly as to leave no doubt that the tale was true.
"But how can you get hold of the miracle?" he asked. "What's your
scheme?"
Then the artful Yankee unfolded to the still more artful Asiatic his
plan--a plan so simple that even the artful Asiatic began to feel
prosperous. Some pleasant morning and very soon, while talking with
Cyrus, Luther would buckle on the little machine, as if to sail about
the barn. Cyrus would probably consent, as on two previous occasions.
Then he, Luther, would turn the button too far, as if by accident,
pretend to lose control of the machine, and sail up through the big
skylight of the barn, which was always open in pleasant weather. He
would wriggle his elbows as if trying to regain control of The Thing.
Once up in the air, above the roof of the barn, he would steer in the
direction of a certain pond, two miles away, all the time working his
hands and elbows as if trying to get back to earth.
"Are you sure you can do it?" said Katz. "You might really lose control
if you didn't keep your head."
Luther smiled. "Oh, I can do it all right! I have no idea of steering
for heaven before my time. You see I've already done it, and I guess I
did it about as well as Alton himself. It's really as easy as driving a
Ford--and lots more fun. Why, Pussy, it's like being a bird!"
Katz nodded. "Yes, it sounds good. But where will you go when you once
get up?"
"To the big pond, three miles off. It's always a deserted
place--especially forenoons. I shall land in a little cove I know,
unstrap the machine and hide it in the woods there. Then I shall wade
comfortably into the shallow water and lie down for a minute,--with my
clothes on."
I. Katz's eyebrows went up. "I see; I see! Bright idea! The machine
carried you into water and you had to swim ashore."
"Even so."
"And you lost the machine, which is somewhere in the mud at the bottom
of the pond."
"Yep."
"And you'll hurry back to your friend while still wet, so he'll know
that what you say is true!"
"You've got it. And that afternoon I'll bring the invention to your
shop."
I. Katz, of the muddy complexion, stroked his Oriental nose and nodded
approval. His comprehending eyes lingered for an instant on Luther's
face with a look that indicated admiration and a friendly feeling.
But the unflattering thoughts it covered were not divined by the New
Englander.
* * * * *
It was decreed by incorruptible Fate that Luther's opportunity should
come the very next morning.
Cyrus was at work in the barn. Dr. Alton, sitting just outside the door
in the shade of the building, was reading a war article in a French
journal that some one had sent him from Europe. Luther moved idly
about, as if to pass the time. At a moment when he saw Cyrus especially
absorbed in his work--inside the big iron cigar--he took up The Thing
and adjusted the straps about his shoulders.
"I am going to float around the barn," he said, "and see how the roof
looks."
"All right," said Cyrus, keeping on with his work and not turning his
head.
To avoid all risk of hitting the sides of the skylight--for he must
rise with apparently unexpected suddenness--he stepped outside the
building. With a smile and a nod he said to Dr. Alton:
"If you never saw a real angel, Doctor, here's your chance."
As he put his fingers to the button Cyrus came running out. "Stop! Hold
on Luther! Let go! That's not adjusted!"
But Luther was not to be thwarted at the high tide of victory--with
riches within reach. He put his fingers to the button and said, with a
smile:
"Oh, I know how it----"
The sentence was never finished. He had given the slightest turn,
having a sensible fear of the unknown force within. In his haste he
must have turned it a fraction more than he intended. For then happened
the unprecedented thing--the thing without parallel in human life; so
awful, so solemn, so unearthly, that the two men who saw it stood dumb
in horror.
As he was speaking, with the smile on his lips, he was lifted from the
earth by the straps beneath his arms with a violence that stopped his
speech--and his breathing. Up he shot, more like a cannon ball than
a rocket. So fast he went, gaining speed with every second, growing
smaller and fainter to the two spectators, until--and it all happened
in the shortest minute--he disappeared, a tiny speck in the blue sky
above.
He had no chance to change his speed.
His straw hat, with its crimson band,--like a frivolous friend too
light of heart for sudden tragedy--came tumbling earthward, then
floated off to the west in playful, easy spirals. A gay farewell to a
lifeless body. For death had been instantaneous.
[Illustration: "--AND GLIDE FOREVER, A HOMELESS VAGRANT THROUGH THE
DUSKY VOID"--_Page 171_]
Dr. Alton and Cyrus stood looking upward--at the spot in the heavens
where Luther had disappeared from earthly vision. It was hard to
believe what their eyes had seen. And when, in silent horror, they
looked into each other's faces, both knew that this sudden traveler had
started on a darker and a longer voyage than any previous explorer;
that he was moving at a speed unknown to other mortals, and that his
journey would never end. Both knew that within the hour he would be
beyond the orbit of the earth; that the power propelling him felt no
exhaustion. Unless colliding with other celestial derelicts, or drawn
into the path of some distant planet--Neptune or Uranus--he would push
further out into the Infinite. Then, would he join some starry host,
off toward the Milky Way, the Southern Cross or Orion's Belt, and glide
forever, a homeless vagrant through the dusky void?
His youthful features, untouched by decaying moisture in the icy gloom,
might remain, through the countless ages as his friends last saw him,
long after his native earth--like its own moon--had become a lifeless
ball. Or, beyond the visible stars, far out into bottomless Space,--too
far ever to return--is he to wander through the uncharted regions of
yet remoter worlds?
[Illustration]