A CRAZY MACHINIST
For a moment Jack stared at Mr. Roumann. He did not appreciate
the seriousness of the announcement. The scientist was hurrying
here and there, looking under benches and on tables for missing
plates.
"Do you mean the plates that make the motor go?" asked Jack.
"No, not those, but the plates from which the mysterious force is
projected into space--the plates that give the forward motion to
the projectile. They have been stolen. They were taken last
night, and the man Andy fired at stole them!"
"Will that prevent us from making the trip?"
"No. I have duplicate plates."
"Then little harm is done."
"No particular harm is done to the projectile, but I am afraid
that, with the plates in his possession, the man may discover the
secret of the power that I use. Oh, I should have locked them
up, but I thought they would be safe."
"What has happened?" asked Mr. Henderson, entering the machine
shop at that moment. The scientist told him, and expressed his
fear.
"Do you really think there is any danger that the man, whoever he
was, will learn how to use the plates?" inquired the professor.
"Perhaps, and then, again, perhaps not. I think it will be very
difficult for him to work out the secret of the power from the
plates, for they are only a small part of the mechanism. Still,
he may do so. I am convinced now that this man is either the
same one of whom I stand in fear, or he is some one hired by him
to steal my secret."
"Then we had better notify the police," suggested Mark.
"No, that would never do," answered Mr. Roumann. "I would have
to describe the plates, in order to have the authorities identify
them in the possession of the thief, and I do not care to do
that. No; the best plan will be to hasten work or the Annihilator,
and start for Mars before the thief can gain any advantage from the
plates. If he should succeed in discovering from the plate how to
make the power that is discharged in wireless currents, it will take
him a long time, and we can be away before then. Let us hasten our
work and start for Mars."
"You say you have duplicates of the plates?" asked Jack.
"Yes. I was afraid lest something happen to one set, so I made
three. Well, it will do no good to worry, but I wish I had the
plates back."
"I don't see how he got them," observed Mark. "There doesn't
seem to be anything broken, to indicate how the thief got in, and
he certainly didn't touch Professor Henderson's live wire."
Not a window or a door had been forced, and the two machinists,
who slept in the shop, declared they had heard no suspicious
sounds during the night. It was a mysterious theft, and there
seemed to be no means of solving it.
At Mr. Roumann's suggestion they all increased their hours of
work on the Annihilator. They wanted to have it finished ahead
of the time set, and it seemed that this would be done.
Day after day, and far into the night, they labored. Bit by bit
the machinery was installed, the supplies were gathered together,
the great water tanks were built, to provide a supply of the
fluid in case of any accident to the distilling apparatus. The
Etherium motor was almost finished, and the other, motor, which
was to drive the Annihilator through the earth's atmosphere, was
nearly ready to install. The steering apparatus necessitated
considerable labor, and when it was finished Amos Henderson
declared they had made a mistake, and would have to build it all
over again.
This lost them a week, and time was precious, as there was no
telling what the thief would do with the stolen plates.
"I tell you what, but we're going to have a better ship than any
of the others we built," remarked Jack one day, as he and Mark
were putting the finishing touches to the living-room.
"This isn't a ship," said Mark. "It's a projectile."
"I guess I can call it a ship if I want to," was the retort.
"It's going to sail through the air, and it's an airship, of
course. Wait until you see the one I'm going to build when I get
that new gas invented."
"I'll not go with you," said Mark. "There's too much danger of
being blown up."
"There won't be, after I have it perfected. But say, won't it be
fine when we're shooting through space to sit here in an easy
chair and read a book and eat sandwiches?"
"I guess you think as much of eating as you do of reading, Jack."
"Well, almost, that's a fact. I must cut out some of my eating,
too. I've gained five pounds this week, because of not doing any
studying. But wait until I get to Mars. Then I'll weigh less."
"I hope Mr. Roumann lets us help run the machinery," went on
Mark.
"I guess he'll have to. He'll need help, and I understand that
he and the professor, you and I, and Washington and Andy are the
only ones going along. He and the professor can't run the affair
all alone, and they'll have to have our help. Wash and Andy
won't be much good at machinery."
"That's so. My! Think of steering a two hundred-foot projectile
through space, when we're moving at the rate of one hundred miles
a second!"
"Great, isn't it?" commented Jack.
"It would be a bad thing if it ever got away from us," said Mark.
"Yes; or if we steered into a comet."
"That's so. We may run into one of those things--or a shooting
star."
"As long as we don't fall into the sun and get burned up we'll be
all right," went on Jack. "And when we get to Mars I know what
I'm going to do."
"What?"
"Go for a sail on one of the big canals. Mars is covered with
them, astronomers say."
"Maybe the Martians won't let you."
"Maybe not. I wish we could start to-morrow."
"Well, we can't. The Annihilator isn't near done. We will be at
her for two weeks yet."
The boys were busy for some time fitting up the living-room.
They were in the midst of this occupation, and were conversing
about the strange experiences in store for them, when Jack was
startled by hearing a strange voice say:
"Say, don't you want some help building this airship?"
He looked up, to see a man standing near one of the entrances to
the projectile--an entrance that would be closed when the
Annihilator was finished. The man was a stranger, and from his
appearance Jack judged that he was a mechanic.
"How'd you get in here?" asked Mark, for he knew it was against
the rules for any stranger to enter the machine shop, much less
approach the projectile.
"I walked," replied the man. "I saw the door open, and I heard
hammering going on in here. I knew it was a machine shop, and as
I'm a first class machinist, out of work, I thought I'd apply for
the job."
"How'd you get past the doorkeeper?" inquired Jack, for he knew
that Andy Sudds was supposed to be on guard with his gun.
"He wasn't at the door," went on the man. "There was nobody
there, so I walked in. Can't you give me a job on the airship?"
"How do you know it's an airship?" asked Jack.
"Oh, I know. I know lots of things," and the man winked one eye
at the lad. "I built a balloon once."
"Did you?" asked Mark. He began to think perhaps the man might
be able to aid them.
"Sure I did. I know about airships. I'll work for low wages,
and I'll keep my mouth closed. Oh, I know what patents mean.
Say," he went on in a whisper, "you'd be surprised to know where
I went in my balloon. I'll tell you," and he looked around as if
to make sure no one was listening.
"Where did you go?" asked Jack.
"Up to the moon," was the surprising reply. "And, say, it's all
a mistake about it being made of green cheese. It's green
apples--that's what it's made of. I know, for I was there, and I
ate some. They gave me an awful pain in my head, too," and the
man passed his hand across his brow. "A fearful pain," he went
on.
Jack and Mark looked at each other. They did not understand the
man's strange talk and actions.
"You don't believe me, do you?" the stranger asked. "Well, if
you want a good machinist, hire me. I know all about airships
and traveling through space. Why, I once did a dance on the tail
of a comet, only the comet got mad and shook me off. I'll show
you how I danced."
He threw a somersault, lighted on his hands, and began to waltz
about in the somewhat contracted space of the living-room of the
projectile. Then he set up a loud shout as he regained his feet.
"That's how!" he cried.
The boys were alarmed. The man was evidently crazy, or perhaps
he might be doing this for effect, in order to disarm their
suspicions, so that he could discover Mr. Roumann's secret.
They did not know what to do.
"Come on, we'll all have a dance!" cried the man. "My name is
Axtell--Fred Axtell. I used to live on the moon--tra-la-la!"
His loud voice attracted the attention of Mr. Henderson, who was
working at the far end of the shop. The professor ran toward the
place where the strangely acting man was, the latter having now
emerged from the ship, followed by the boys.
"Here we go! Off to the moon!" cried the man, and catching up a
big hammer he began to pound on the sides of the Annihilator as
if he would destroy the projectile.