Now, as I was saying, I will show you how to make the most powerful
explosive that was ever invented."
It is possible that I did not show as much interest and enthusiasm as he
expected, and to tell the truth I was a little nervous. Spooks do not
have the same interest in being careful in their experiments--an
accident or two is of little consequence to them, but might be decidedly
disagreeable to me. I may have shown something of what I was thinking in
my manner, for Spook looked at me keenly.
"What is the matter? You do not appear interested."
"On the contrary," I answered, "I am deeply so, but do we not run
considerable risk in trying such experiments in a laboratory without
the consent of its owner?"
"Not at all, not at all. I will use a very small amount of the
explosive, and there will be no damage done."
"Have you attempted to make it before, Mr. Spook?" I ventured.
"Oh, yes, last week; that was a mistake--you see now I know all about
it, I didn't then; the explosion was something awful--it blew the
building pretty much all to pieces. If I had been alive I don't believe
you could have found a piece of me as large as your finger--they called
it spontaneous combustion; however, we won't have anything of that kind
to-night."
"Please don't," I answered.
"No, I promise you. Now we will take a little of this red
phosphorus--ordinary phosphorus will not answer--and pour a little
liquid air on it, stirring it gently, as you see. Now, if I should let
that dry it would explode at the slightest touch; but we do not want
that, and we wish to increase its power, so we add a little chloride of
potassium; now watch it dry--see the color change to a light red-brown.
There, if you should strike that or put fire to it, it would wreck this
building as completely as if you had exploded fifty pounds of dynamite
in it."
I drew away from the table instinctively.
"Have no fear, I will not explode it. Now watch me closely. I will
ignite a minute quantity, about as much as would make the head of a
small black pin or a No. 4 bird-shot. See, the rest we will put in this
pail of water. There--now all is ready--here goes!"
He lit a match and touched the little brown dot--a tremendous explosion
followed and the wooden table was split into pieces. The sound was so
terrific and the shock so unexpected that I was dizzy and frightened.
"Great heavens!" I exclaimed, "you have broken everything in the
laboratory!"
"No," replied the ghost rather shamefacedly, "not so bad as that, but
I'm afraid that I have ruined the table and cracked a few things;
however, I will be more careful next time: it is even more powerful than
I thought. What do you suppose would be the effect on a warship if
struck with a shell containing one hundred pounds of that stuff?"
I answered that she would be destroyed.
"Destroyed? I should say she would; the largest battleship would be
blown to atoms."
The spook glanced at an old-fashioned Dutch clock in the corner of the
laboratory.
"Fine clock that; glad I didn't break it with our little racket just
now. I see I have nearly an hour to spare. Is there any experiment you
would like to try?"
I said anything would interest me, but that I didn't care for any more
explosives.
"I suppose you know how to make diamonds, don't you?"
I answered that for years men had tried to manufacture diamonds, but
practically without success; that as far as I was aware they had only
succeeded in making them so small as to be practically of no use
commercially, and the expense of the manufacture was far in excess of
their value.
"That's all right," answered the spook; "but really it is a very simple
matter. Here; I will make a diamond for you." He walked across the room
to the fireplace, and taking from the grate a lump of coal about the
size of a billiard ball, he laid it upon the table.
"This," he said, "is nearly pure carbon, and as you are well aware it is
practically what a diamond is. Now, I will illustrate to you how you may
make a diamond from this piece of coal, which will be as good as any
diamond ever found in the mines. We will manufacture it instead of
letting nature do it.
"We will first place it in this glass bowl, and pour over it sufficient
liquid air to cover it completely. We will let it remain until it is
thoroughly cold, say, at least 200 degrees below zero; there--now all we
have to do is to heat it and then subject it to a powerful--Great Gee
Hosiphat! Five minutes to twelve! I must go--appointment with a lady at
twelve. But I say, old fellow, just hold it under the blowpipe and get
it hot--just as hot as you can; I will be back soon--ta-ta." His last
words came to me faintly through the window--he had already floated out.
I took the queer-colored piece of coal, and began heating it under the
blowpipe. It did not burn, as I thought it would, but turned red and
then white; gradually it seemed to grow larger and larger and brighter
and brighter until I opened my eyes and found myself in bed with the sun
shining full upon me through the open window.
AN INTERESTING GHOST.
[DR. WATSON'S STORY.]
It is with the greatest difficulty, (said Dr. Watson), that I force
myself to believe that what I am about to relate to you did not actually
happen. It seemed to me that I was as wide-awake as I am at this present
moment, and impossible that the strange series of incidents could be due
entirely to mental disturbances. I went home and went to bed, after
first taking the powder, and I think I went to sleep. How long I slept I
do not know, but I was startled at finding myself floating about the
room with much the same feeling as one has when floating in water, only
it was without effort. My motion seemed to be governed entirely by my
will,--if I glanced at anything in the room I would float towards it.
Imagine my astonishment at seeing my body lying in the bed apparently
sound asleep; you will admit the sensation was novel, to say the least.
After floating around the room two or three times enjoying the peculiar
sensation, I began to wonder what they had been doing at the hospital
during my absence. Immediately I found myself in the hospital ward. Dr.
Ford and two nurses were standing by a cot at the north end, and
glancing at the chart on the table I saw the patient was seriously ill.
"Moribund," said a voice.
"I'm afraid so," I answered. I turned and saw an elderly gentleman,
dressed in the costume of the last century, floating beside me.
"Sad, is it not? People still die, I see, in spite of the wonderful
advance in the science of medicine since my day."
"Were you a doctor when alive?" I asked.
"Well, I was called one, and received the regular license to kill or
cure. I regret to say that I have since learned that I killed a great
many more than I cured. The trouble is, after you are dead your patients
know this as well as you do and say unkind things; even to-night I
received word from a former patient of mine, and a ghost who ought to
know better, to the effect that he intended to hunt me up and punch my
head. I treated him for renal colic and he died of appendicitis."
"What sort of a death certificate did you give?" I asked.
"Heart disease, and let me tell you that was a great deal nearer to it
than some of you chaps get nowadays."
"You are not complimentary," I said coldly.
"Perhaps not; but if you think my criticisms harsh and uncalled for,
let us get down to cold facts. Did it ever occur to you how very few
people live to be even one hundred and twenty-five years old? You surely
will admit that there is no reason why a man should not live to that
age, barring accidents. We know that in Bible times there were lots of
old fellows who passed their three hundredth birthday, and a chap named
Methuselah claimed to be nine hundred and ninety-nine years old."
"Nine hundred and sixty-nine, was it not?" I asked.
"Perhaps you are right, but sixty-nine or ninety-nine, I am inclined to
be a little sceptical about that record myself; there is one thing in
its favor, however, and that is, that he made it an even nine hundred
and ninety-nine, and not one thousand. Of course, you know there are
plenty of people living to-day who are over one hundred years old, and
some who have reached the very satisfactory age of one hundred and
twenty-five; most of them, however, live in Bulgaria, Mexico, or some
out-of-the-way place, and are so poor that they have to live
abstemiously."
"Then you consider the secret of longevity to be a matter of diet?" said
I.
"Partly that, and partly proper care of the nervous system; but come
downstairs, and let us have a cigarette; I am dying for a smoke."
We floated down to the office, which happened to be unoccupied at the
time. The medical ghost helped himself to a cigarette from a trayful on
the mantel-piece, and lighting it, he seated himself in an armchair, and
puffed away with evident enjoyment. I noticed the smoke, which he
inhaled continually, oozed from all parts of his body.
[Illustration: THE SMOKE CONTINUALLY OOZED FROM ALL PARTS OF HIS BODY.]
"My dear fellow," he said impressively, "you must understand that all
diseases are caused by germs--microscopic bugs and plants, you know,
many of them so small that they are invisible to an ordinary microscope,
or, if seen at all, are not recognized. There are thousands and
thousands of them, and each and every one has its mission in life, and
preys upon and destroys other germs. Now, the human body is constantly
getting a lot of germs inside of it which do not belong there. Some are
taken in by the lungs, while floating in the air; some by the stomach,
by the food and drink; some by the skin, etc.
"These germs are met by their natural enemies which live in man's
blood--his body-guard, as it were--and are destroyed. But if the
attacking army is very large, or from some reason the home army has been
weakened and decimated, then the invaders flourish, establish themselves
and wax powerful and strong, and the man becomes what is called 'sick.'
"Come," he said, rising abruptly, and throwing the unconsumed end of
his cigarette into the fireplace. "Come with me to the laboratory, and I
will show you in about two minutes more than I could explain if I talked
for years, and a great deal more satisfactorily."
We floated down to the laboratory, and the ghost took from the shelf a
wide-mouthed bottle and held it up to the light.
"Here," he said, "we have a culture. You, of course, understand how the
germs of disease are cultivated for experimental use. It is needless for
me to explain to you that certain media are used for these cultures,
such as milk, beef-broth, etc.
"Here we have the germ of diphtheria, here of tuberculosis, here of
typhoid fever, etc. That little short jar over yonder contains some
cholera bacilli, which have been lately sent here. Now look at this
typhoid germ. If we took a drop of healthy blood and put some of these
typhoid germs in it, how they would wiggle! but if the drop of blood was
from a typhoid patient, they won't wiggle very long, as you know. See
this blunt-headed chap which we have to stain to see properly, even with
this wonderful microscope; that is our old friend the bacillus of
tuberculosis; but unless you see the patient first I do not believe you
could distinguish him from the leprosy bug.
"These are known germs, but look through the glass at this drop, and you
will see some bugs worth seeing, although the medical fraternity have
not as yet discovered their value. Perhaps you know that most
bacteriologists consider these germs to be plants, not bugs, although
they admit some of them move a little. How astonished they would be if
they could look through this glass! See that chap with green hind legs:
he preys on the typhoid germ, and when they discover this physicians
will simply inoculate the patient with a lot of these little chaps with
the green legs, and they will do the rest.
"Here is a germ with yellow stripes which looks a little like a
diminutive potato bug. He is the deadly enemy of the bug of consumption,
and will attack and kill him on every possible occasion. They are about
evenly matched, but I think the little striped chap is a bit the better.
Another ghost and myself made a match the other night,--seven battles,
the result to decide the championship,--a sort of a bugging main, as it
were. I won. The first six matches were even. We won three each, but in
the seventh my striped bug got the tubercular germ down and shook him as
a terrier does a rat. The other ghost and myself nearly had a fight to
get our eyes to the microscope. I tell you it was exciting. There is my
champion bug now, see him?--the one with the fourth hind leg gone."
"But how," I asked, "are you going to prevent people from dying of old
age?"
"Of course they will die of old age; but there is no such thing as old
age under one hundred and fifty years; what you call old age is not old
age at all. There are two kinds of old age or senility. Old age,
properly speaking, results from a distinct modification of the nervous
tissues and a hardening of the arteries--the former caused by unnatural
conditions, nervous strain and dissipation, and the latter from
over-feeding and drinking. The trouble with the ordinary man is that he
absorbs great quantities of nitrogenous foods instead of making his diet
one of nuts, fruit, milk, etc. In comparatively young men of the present
age there is often a decided modification of the nervous tissues with
symptoms resembling those in neurasthenia. In such cases galvanic
treatment will restore the centres to their normal condition. You will,
therefore, I think, admit that with proper diet and possibly the aid of
a galvanic battery a man may live,--barring possible death by
violence,--say, two hundred years."
"You mean," I said, "when we have learned to combat the various disease
germs by pitting against them their natural enemies."
"Exactly, of course," answered the shade; "but it seems to me that we
have talked long enough; I am becoming very dry, so let us repair to the
Waldorf and have a cocktail."
"How is it possible," I asked, "that you can take a cocktail, there
being nothing tangible about you?"
"Of course," answered the ghost, "it is impossible for me to actually
drink a cocktail. I can, however, float over the bar and inhale the
pleasing odors arising from the various concoctions served to the
guests, and in my ethereal condition I enjoy the odors and am affected
by them as much as if I were really drinking the liquid."
We floated from the house and down town, until we reached the
brilliantly lighted Waldorf Hotel. There were many people in the
bar-room, and the medical shade and myself, floating about over the
different tables, inhaled with decided enjoyment the delicate aroma of
the various mixed drinks so dear to the present generation.
To my annoyance my shade companion soon began to sing--he was evidently
affected by the odors which had passed through him. His manner became
familiar, and I had great difficulty in keeping him from kicking the
glasses off the tables. At last I succeeded in getting him out of the
room, and it was time, for as we floated into the street he began
shouting in a most uproarious manner, and I was afraid that we should
be arrested for disturbing the peace.
"Be quiet, I beg of you," I pleaded; "see that policeman on the opposite
side of the street? We shall surely get into trouble if you make such a
noise."
"Policeman?" hiccoughed the shade, "What the devil do I care for a
policeman? Watch me go over and punch him in the stomach."
In spite of all I could do to prevent him he started straight for the
officer, who was standing all unconscious on the corner, watching a
pretty girl who was looking into one of the brilliantly lighted store
windows. Now was my time to rid myself of this most undesirable
companion, and I wished myself in my own room.
Instantly I found myself floating about over my bed, and there was my
body sleeping as peacefully as ever. I was somewhat tired, but I
remembered our contract to write down the result of our experiences,
and immediately sat down to do it. After I had written it I read it over
carefully to see if I had overlooked anything, and then wished myself in
bed and asleep. The next thing I knew it was broad daylight. There, on
my writing-table, were the pages of manuscript which I had written. They
were real enough, whether the rest was a dream or not.
THE MOUND OF ETERNAL SILENCE.
"I ought to know something about it," said the Drummer, "for I went with
the Prospector and the Eastern man to see Judson.
"I remember when we started out together the Eastern man asked the
Prospector if he thought Judson was really crazy.
"'Yes,' said the Prospector, 'he is as crazy as a loon, as you will see
when you get there.'
"'Tell me the story over again,' said the Eastern man.
"'Well, you see,' said the Prospector, 'they found him lying in the hot
sand away off on the desert, with his head propped up against a rock,
nearly dead for want of water. When they tried to rouse him he stared at
them vacantly. They gave him a little water, and as soon as he had
swallowed it he fought like a wild animal for more. It took three or
four of them to hold him. He cursed and swore at them because they would
not give him all he wanted, and his cries were pitiful. He alternately
cursed and screamed for water, sometimes as loud as he could shout and
then again in faint whispers.
"'Later on, when they dared to give him more at a time, he became
tranquil, and towards night, after he had drunk a bowl full of thin
oatmeal gruel, he went to sleep. When he awoke they questioned him.
"'He said that he had been prospecting with his partner, and had found a
gulch with precipitous cliffs all around it where there was very rich
placer digging. Directly in front was a high mound covered with big
cacti, and they made their camp on the top of this. There was a little
water in the canyon held in rock basins, and with this they washed out
the gold and got a lot of it--Judson says three or four thousand
dollars' worth. Then bad luck came, and the burro died. Three days
afterwards Judson's partner was poisoned in some way, and died a few
hours later, cursing Judson and saying he had poisoned him.
"'Judson buried him and also the gold; it was too heavy for him to pack,
especially as he had no way to carry water. Then taking a small bag of
gold dust in his pocket he started across the desert. He had a hobby for
taking photographs and carried a small camera with him, and before
leaving he photographed the place, which he called "The Mound of Eternal
Silence," so that in case anything happened to him it could be found
without trouble. They developed the negatives later, and he has them
pasted all around his room. He called the place "The Mound of
Eternal Silence" because during the two months he was there he never saw
or heard a single living thing except jack-rabbits and a bird or two.'
[Illustration: THE MOUND OF ETERNAL SILENCE.]
[Illustration: JUDSON'S MAP.]
"'What was that about his killing the dog?' asked the Eastern man.
"'Well, you see when Judson started off alone the dog would not leave
his dead master, and sat upon the hill howling. Judson was afraid he
would attract somebody's attention if they happened along that way, and
after trying to get him to follow him without success, he went back and
shot him. The first thing that Judson saw when he awoke the next morning
after they had found him was the dog sitting on his haunches looking at
him. Judson looked at the animal, but said nothing--something within him
forced him to keep silence. After a time he snapped his fingers and
called the dog by name.
"'"Did you speak?" asked one of the men, Stevens it was, I believe.
"'"I was only calling the dog," said Judson.
"'"What dog?" asked Stevens.
"'"Why, that dog, of course," said Judson, pointing at the animal.
"'"You are crazy, man," answered Stevens. "The heat yesterday was too
much for you; there is no dog there."
"'Judson turned away; he began to fear there might be something the
matter with his brain, and that there was no dog there after all. But
when he looked again there he was as plain as ever. "I will take the
brute outside of camp and kill him when I get a chance," he thought.
"'That evening when they made camp at a small water hole, Judson walked
away out of sight and hearing of the camp. When he could no longer be
seen he turned, and, aiming his pistol at the dog, pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit the ground between the animal's legs, and he ran back a
few paces and stood grinning at Judson showing his teeth, and his face
looked like that of his old partner. Judson picked up a large rock and
ran at the dog; the animal yelped slightly and started for camp. Judson
increased his pace and the dog circled out into the desert.
"'"Curse you," cried Judson, "I'll kill you yet." Several times he threw
stones at the animal, and twice he fell, bruising himself among the
loose rocks. At last he sat down.
"'"What is the matter with you," shouted Stevens. "What are you running
about and shouting in that way for?"
"'"That confounded dog of mine," answered Judson unthinkingly.
"'"Nonsense, man, there isn't any dog."
"'Judson walked slowly back to camp followed closely by the dog. The men
looked at him strangely. That night when he went to sleep the brute
came and lay down beside him. A horrid fear took possession of him and
he pushed the thing away, but it immediately crawled back again. At last
he arose and spent the rest of the night walking up and down the desert,
the dog following close at his heels.
"'When they arrived in Phoenix the doctor advised Judson to go to a
quiet place and rest, and gave him an opiate.'
"'Why don't he go back and get the gold?' asked the Eastern man.
"'Because as I have told you whenever he starts to go back the dog meets
him on the desert, and he is only free from it when he stays in
Phoenix. He says the dog is his old partner, and will never let him go
back there again. That is why he is willing to sell his secret.'
"'But how do you know if we pay him this money,' asked the Eastern man,
'that we can find the gold?'
"'Why, his map and directions together with the photographs ought to
make it sure. Anyway, I am putting up $250 of my money with your $350,
and run as much risk as you do; besides, you never would have known
about it if it hadn't been for me.'
"'Won't he take less than $600?' asked the Eastern man.
"'Not a cent; I have tried him too often. If I had $600 of my own I
never would ask any one to go in with me. It's a snap.'
"We found Judson seated in a big armchair, smoking a meerschaum pipe.
His eyes had a peculiar wild expression, and he glared at us as we
entered.
"'What do you people want?' he asked.
"'We have come to buy your claim,' said the Prospector.
"Judson laughed a strange, hard laugh.
"'Always the same--gold, gold, gold. Have you the money with you to pay
for it?' he asked.
"The Prospector produced a bag of twenty-dollar gold pieces and shook
it. 'Here it is,' he said, 'this gentleman and myself have made up the
amount--$600.'
"'Well,' shouted Judson, 'give me the money and take the cursed claim,
buried gold and all, and much good may it do you! I will go away--far
away from here. My God, to think that I should sell a rich claim like
that for nothing! But I wouldn't go back to it for all the gold in the
world. Three times I have tried, and each time that dog devil met me at
the edge of the desert, grinning at me with the face of my dead partner.
Here are the photographs and the map, take them and go, my head aches;
go away and leave me.'
"He buried his face in his hands, groaning and muttering to himself. The
Prospector put the bag of gold on the table, and taking the photographs
and map left the room. We followed him, closing the door softly behind
us."
"Did you find the gold?" I asked.
"I didn't look for it," answered the Drummer. "They offered to let me in
and give me a third interest for $300, but somehow I didn't like the
idea, and the whole thing seemed uncanny, and it is lucky I didn't. The
Prospector and the Eastern man got back a week later without having
discovered the 'Mound of Eternal Silence,' both mad as hatters, and each
laying the blame of the failure on the other. I have always wondered
since if Judson was really as crazy as they thought he was."
"Why," I asked, "what made you doubt it?"