Through Space to Mars - Roy Rockwood (life changing books TXT) 📗
- Author: Roy Rockwood
- Performer: -
Book online «Through Space to Mars - Roy Rockwood (life changing books TXT) 📗». Author Roy Rockwood
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.
WASHINGTON IS AFRAID
“Here! Here! Stop him! Grab that man!” cried Mr. Roumann, as
he rushed toward Axtell, who was hammering away madly.
Jack and Mark started for the fellow.
“Keep away!” cried the machinist, swinging the sledge toward the
boys. “I want to work on an airship, and I’m going to do it.
I’ll make some dents in it, and then I’ll straighten them out!
Whoop!”
Mr. Henderson hastened forward. He took in the situation at a
glance.
“That man is insane!” the professor whispered to the German
scientist. “Let me deal with him.”
“Do something quickly,” pleaded Mr. Roumann, “or he will damage
the projectile.”
“This is the way I work!” cried the insane man, and he brought
down the hammer with great force on the rounded sides of the
Annihilator. He made quite a dent in it.
“Stop him!” begged Mr. Ronan.
Mark and Jack had retreated out of reach of the big hammer, the
professor and the German were consulting together, and in the
door of the shop appeared Andy Sudds with his gun. He had gone
away for a moment, in which interval the crazy machinist had
appeared.
“Andy will scare him with his gun,” whispered Jack to Mark.
Just then Mr. Henderson called out:
“If you want work, I can give it to you.”
Axtell stopped his pounding of the projectile, laid his hammer
down, and asked in a mild voice:
“Can you give me work now?”
“Of course,” answered the professor, as if it was the most
natural thing in the world to give work to insane persons. His
calm manner and soothing words had a quieting effect on the
lunatic. The glare died out of his eyes.
“Come with me,” went on Mr. Henderson. “I have some work
outside.”
“What is it?” asked Axtell suspiciously.
“I want you to dig a hole so we can put this airship in it,”
whispered the professor. “Come outside.”
He wanted to get the man out of the machine shop, where he could
better deal with the fellow.
“That’s just the kind of work I want,” declared the unfortunate
person. “I love to dig holes in the ground. I once dug one
clear through to China. Get me a shovel.”
He seemed to have forgotten all about the projectile, and meekly
followed Mr. Henderson. The latter led him some distance from
the shop, talking soothingly to the man, and promising that he
should soon have a shovel. But there was no necessity for going
to these measures.
Axtell suddenly caught sight of Washington coming toward him, and
he exhibited the greatest fear.
“Hide me!” he exclaimed to the professor. “Hide me in the
airship! Here comes the king of the cannibal islands!” And away
he ran at top speed and disappeared in the woods behind the
Henderson place. A search was at once made, but he could not be
located.
Andy was rather worried lest he be blamed for not remaining on
guard, but no one thought of censuring him, as he was such a
faithful watchman and had only left the shop in answer to a call
from Washington, who thought he heard some strange animal after
his chickens.
“But I’ll not desert my post again,” declared the old hunter, as
he looked to the loading of his gun.
“If any other crazy men get inside, they’ll have to answer to
me.”
Work on the projectile was resumed, and for a week went on
uninterruptedly. It was nearing completion, though there were
many details yet to look after. Mr. Roumann was having more
trouble with his Etherium motor than he anticipated.
“The atmospheric motor is all right,” he declared, “and it works
to perfection,” which was indeed true, for in tests they made
they found that the motor, the force of which was only less
powerful and complicated than the secret power that was to hurl them
through space, would easily send the projectile through the
comparatively thin atmosphere of the earth. They did not
actually move the Annihilator, since to do so would mean they
would have to take it out of the shed. But they made tests and
experiments with heavy objects, applying the force to them, and,
by calculation, Mr. Roumann and the professor found that the
force would actually send the projectile on the start of its
journey.
“But there is one point about my Etherium motor that still
bothers me,” said the German.
“Can I help you solve it?” asked Mr. Henderson.
“No, thank you. I think I am on the right track. I will have it
perfected in a few days, and then we will be off for Mars. I can
scarcely wait until I get to that wonderful planet, thirty-five
millions of miles away, where I hope to get possession of a most
wonderful substance. Once we are on Mars—”
“‘Scuse me, Mistah Roumann,” interrupted Washington White, who
happened to be in the machine shop at that moment, and overheard
what the scientist said, “‘scuse me, but did I done heah yo’
promulgate de ostentatious fact dat yo’ is gwine to de planet
Mars?”
“That’s where we’re going, Wash,” replied Jack, for it had been
decided that the colored man could now be told of their
destination.
“Yo’ means dat red star what shines in de sky?”
“That’s the one, Washington.”
“An’ how far did yo’ say it was from heah?” was the question
directed at Mr. Henderson.
“Well, it’s about thirty-five millions of miles from the earth.”
“And is yo’ all goin’?”
“Yes, we expect to.”
“Is dis heah contraption yo’ done been buildin’?”
“Yes.”
“And is I gwine, too, perfesser?”
“I calculated on taking you, Washington. You went north and
south with me, and down into the center of the earth. I thought
you’d like to go on this trip.”
Comments (0)