READY FOR THE MOON
There were busy times for the moon-voyagers the next day. They were up
early, for at the last moment many little details needed to be settled.
The Cardite motor had been thoroughly repaired, for the damage caused
by the unknown enemy had done no permanent harm.
When the injured one appeared the bandage on his head seemed larger
than ever, and his features were almost hidden. He still wore his arm
in a sling.
"Well, how do you feel?" asked Jack, looking narrowly at the figure. He
could not get rid of a suspicion that something was wrong with Mark.
"Oh, I'm feeling pretty fair," was the mumbled answer. "I didn't sleep
much, though."
"Well, take care of yourself," advised Jack. "We are about ready to
start. We'll get off about noon, Professor Henderson says. Don't try to
do anything and injure your broken arm. You certainly had a tough time
of it."
"Yes, I guess I did. I can't do much to help you."
"You don't need to. We're all but finished. Just hang around and watch
me work. There isn't much to do."
But though Jack gave an invitation to remain near him, the other seemed
to prefer being off by himself. He wandered in and out of the
projectile, now and then helping Andy or Washington to carry light
objects into the _Annihilator_. But all the while he was careful not to
disturb the bandage on his face, and several times he stopped to
readjust it. Nor did he talk much, which Jack ascribed to his statement
that his teeth hurt him. And when the bandaged figure did speak, it was
in mumbling tones, very different from Mark's usually cheerful ones.
"Well," remarked Professor Roumann, after a final inspection of the big
Cardite motor--the one that was to be depended on to carry them to the
moon--"I think we are about ready to leave this earth. How about it,
Professor Henderson?"
"Yes, I think so. Have you made any calculation as to speed?"
"Yes, we will not have to move nearly as fast as we did when we went to
Mars. We only have to cover a quarter of a million of miles at the
most, and probably less than that. The motor will send us along at the
rate of about a mile a second, which is three thousand six hundred
miles an hour, or eighty-six thousand four hundred miles a--day. At
that rate we would be at the moon in less than three days.
"But I don't want to travel as fast as that," the German went on. "I
want time to make some scientific observations on the way, and so I
have reduced the speed of the Cardite motor by half, though should we
need to hasten our trip we can do so."
"Then we'll be about a week on the way?" asked Jack.
"About that, yes," assented Mr. Roumann.
"And could we go farther than to the moon if we wanted to?" inquired
the bandaged figure mumblingly.
"Farther? What do you mean?" asked Professor Henderson quickly.
"I mean could we go to Mars if we wanted to?"
"You don't mean to say you want to go back there, and run the chance of
being attacked by the savage Martians, do you?" asked Jack.
"No, I was only asking," and the other seemed confused.
"Well, of course, we _could_ go there, as we have plenty of supplies
and enough of the Cardite," said Mr. Roumann. "But I think the moon
will be the limit of our trip this time."
The work went on, the last things to be put aboard the projectile being
a number of scientific instruments. The injured one wandered in and
out, now being in the house and again in the big shed. He seemed
restless and ill at ease, and frequently he walked to the front gate
and gazed down the road.
"You seem to be looking for some one," spoke Jack. "Are you expecting
your girl to come along and bid you good-by, Mark?"
"Who--me? No, I--I was just looking to see if--if it was going to rain."
"Rain? Well, rain won't make much difference to us soon. We will be
outside of the earth's atmosphere in a jiffy after we have started, and
then rain won't worry us. Is your stateroom all fixed up?"
"No, I didn't think of that. Guess I'd better look after it."
The two started together for the projectile. The stout one entered
first, and made his way through the engine room and main cabin to the
compartment off which the staterooms opened. He entered one.
"Here, that's not yours," cried Jack. "That's where Professor Henderson
sleeps. Yours is next to mine."
"That's right; I forgot," mumbled the other. "I must be getting absent
minded since my accident. But I'll be all right soon. I'll get my room
to rights, and then probably we'll start."
"I guess so," answered Jack, but he shook his head as he gazed after
his chum. "Mark has certainly changed," he murmured. "I wish he'd take
those bandages off, so I could get a look at his face."
The last details were completed. The big _Annihilator_ had been run out
on trucks into the yard surrounding the shed, ready to be hurled
through the air. The shop, shed and house had been locked up and given
in charge of a caretaker, who would remain on guard until our friends
returned.
"Are we all ready?" asked Professor Henderson, as he stood ready to
close the main entrance door and seal it hermetically.
"All ready, I guess," answered Jack. The stout one had gone to his
stateroom, where he could be heard moving about.
"I'm ready," announced Professor Roumann. "Say the word and I'll start
the motor." He was in the engine room, looking over the machinery. At
that moment there came a loud yell from the galley where Washington
White was.
"Heah, heah! Come back!" cried the colored man. "My Shanghai rooster is
got loose!" he yelled, and, an instant later, the fowl came sailing out
of the projectile, with Washington in full chase after him.
"I'll help you catch him," volunteered Jack, springing to the cook's
aid, while Professor Henderson laughed, and a bandaged figure, looking
from a stateroom port, wondered at the delay in starting the projectile.