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CHAPTER VI

BUILDING THE PROJECTILE



“Did you see that?” exclaimed Jack.

“What?” asked Professor Henderson quickly.

“Some one at the window,” replied Jack.

“I saw the face,” added Mark. “It was a man looking in.”

“A man? What sort of a man?” inquired Mr. Roumann, and he showed some excitement.

“I couldn’t tell very well,” answered Jack. “I saw him for only a second. But the man was looking right in.”

“Did he have a heavy black mustache?” asked the German, and strode rapidly toward the window.

“No, he didn’t have a mustache at all,” said Jack. “He was smooth–shaven. I’m sure of that.”

“Then it can’t be he,” murmured Mr. Roumann.

“Who did you think it was?” asked Professor Henderson.

“I—I thought it was an enemy of mine,” was the answer. “Some one who has been trying to discover my secret. But the man whom I fear has a heavy black mustache, and this one, you say, Jack, had none?”

“None at all.”

“Then it’s all right.”

Jack thought of saying that the man might have shaved his mustache off, but he did not want Mr. Roumann to worry.

“I guess he was only a tramp,” said Amos Henderson. “Some one wandering about looking for a chicken coop that isn’t locked. Or, perhaps, seeking a chance to rob.”

Jack said nothing, but from the glimpse he had had of the man’s face, he did not believe the fellow was a tramp. There was too much intelligence shown. The face was an evil one, and seemed to indicate that the man had an object in peering into the window— a motive that was not connected with a chicken coop.

“I’ll tell Andy to keep watch for a while tonight with his gun,” went on the professor. “I don’t like prowlers around here. I have some valuable tools in my machine shop, and they might steal them.”

“Now, Professor Henderson,” began Mr. Roumann, when he had taken his seat at a small table and spread out his plans in front of him, “I am only going to sketch briefly, for you and your young assistants, what I propose. As I have said, we will need a projectile, two hundred feet long and about ten feet through in the thickest part. In that we will build sleeping and living apartments, lacks to store the air which we will have to breathe while traveling through space, other tanks for water, a compartment for food, another for scientific instruments, and we will need a comparatively large space for my machinery.”

“Why will it take up so much space?” asked the professor. “I thought you said the new power required only a small machine to generate it.”

“That is true, but you see we will have to carry two kinds of machines.”

“Two? Why is that?”

“Because we are going to travel through two, and perhaps three, different mediums. We are going to shoot through the atmosphere of the earth; then through the vast region beyond that, filled with what is called ether.”

“And is that different from our atmosphere?” asked Mark.

“Much different,” replied Mr. Roumann. “There is no air to it at all. The secret power which I have invented is perfectly adapted to project us through this ether. That is why I call it Etherium. Then when we reach Mars, we will find a different atmosphere, somewhat like this earth’s, I expect, but which will require still another kind of power to move us in. I hope, however, that the same force which sends us through the limits of the atmosphere of this earth will take us through that of Mars. So that is why I need so much space for machinery.”

“Well, I guess we can build the projectile for you,” said Mr. Henderson. “It will take us nearly a month, though.”

“No longer, I hope,” said the German. “Every day is valuable. Once the projectile is finished we will enter it, seal ourselves up, and be shot through space. When we get to Mars—well, there are many things to do when we reach there.”

“I shall be much interested in seeing if they have discovered a way of conquering the air,” said Mr. Henderson. “If they are a race of superior intelligence, as some authorities believe, from the fact that Mars may have been inhabited for millions of years before this earth was formed, they must have advanced very greatly in science. The mastery of the air—in making flying machines—would be one of the surest tests.”

“I think you will find the Martians a very learned race, professor,” said Mr. Roumann.

“I want to see if the boys there are like the fellows on earth— playing baseball, football and so on,” marked Jack.

“I shall be interested in the colleges,” added Mark, “and in the great canals of Mars.”

“I believe there will be plenty to interest us on the planet which glows so red at night,” went on Mr. Henderson. “But, Mr. Roumann, it is only fair to tell you that the building of this projectile will cost considerable money. I do not hesitate on this account, but, as you know, the Flying Mermaid, in which we went to the center of the earth, had to be abandoned there. That was quite a heavy loss. I should not like—”

“You will suffer no loss in this case,” interrupted Roumann. “I appreciate that the projectile cost a large sum. I have no money to advance you, but I can promise you that when we reach Mars you will be amply repaid. We shall be rich—rich beyond your wildest dreams. There will be gold in untold quantities—”

“I never heard that there was much gold on Mars,” said Jack.

“Not in the form of gold,” said the German, who was growing very excited, “but something that can be turned into gold. I am on the track of the most wonderful substance—that which gives Mars its red color—that which will—”

He stopped suddenly.

“I must say no more now,” he added, calming himself by a strong effort. “Sufficient to state that you will never regret making the trip to the wonderful planet.”

“But now about your new force—how powerful is it?” asked Mr. Henderson. “You promised to demonstrate it to me.”

“Yes, and I will do so.”

Thereupon the German plunged into a mass of figures and calculations, which were quite puzzling to the boys, but which seemed very clear to Mr. Henderson. The German drew several rough outlines, and the discussion became quite technical. Toward the close, the inventor of the–secret force gave a demonstration of its power. By means of certain chemicals and an electric current he developed from the end of a wire a force sufficient to knock over a heavy block of steel, weighing over a ton.

“That is only a small sample of what my force will do,” he said. “In the proper machine it will be ten times more strong. The conditions here are not exactly harmonious. Now, are you satisfied, Professor Henderson?”

“Yes. I could not help but be after that demonstration, it is wonderful.”

“And you will make the projectile for me—for us?”

“I will. I’ll start at once.”

“Good! And I promise that you will come back from Mars even more wealthy than you were when you returned from the center of the earth.”

“Most of that wealth is now gone,” said Mr. Henderson with a smile. “I have enough left, however, to build the projectile, and we’ll start at once.”

“Hurrah for Mars!” cried Jack.

“And the marvelous red substance!” added Mark.

“Hush! Not a word about that!” cried Mr. Roumann warningly.

“That must be kept a profound secret!” The next day the boys, Professor Henderson, Washington White, and some trusty machinists began the building of the Annihilator, as the projectile was to be called, because it was to annihilate space.



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