CHAPTER VI.
Verification of the Legend.
MOUNTED on mustangs, Geister and his two followers left San Pablo at the commencement of the summer, in order, before the heat grew excessive, to leave behind them the pathless forests and fever-haunted swamps that lie between the rivers Colorado and Gila, going north-east. At the end of the fourteenth day, the character of the scenery began to change from that of wild luxuriance of vegetation to sterile barrenness, increasing to savage grandeur and desolation as they approached the main chain of the Rocky Mountains, where, judging that they had advanced far enough north, they halted for two days, and then proceeded due south, skirting the base of the mountains, and carefully noting all the characteristics of the route, and exploring all rivers that at first sight gave the slightest promise of turning out to be the river of their search.
Two months passed before they came upon the Rio de la Esperanza, which was, where they first saw it, a deep rapid stream, running in the centre of a valley. Following its course between Los Montes del Sud, at the end of the second day they arrived at what they knew at first sight to be El Monte del Milagro. There was the apparently double peak, likewise the concave precipice; and as they ascended one of the sloping sides of the mountain, they came upon what had been a lake, but the water was now dried up, yet still answering exactly to the lake spoken of in the Legend of the Spanish monk. They slept that night in the cave.
The next morning, Geister anxiously proceeded to put the truth of the monk’s narrative to the test. Earth was dug up from the bank of the river, at that part where the moat might be supposed to have been dug, just outside the cave, and also from the walls of the cave. This latter ho at once saw was totally different in its appearance and general characteristics to that dug from outside the cave, and which was taken from a depth of three feet, for obvious reasons. He at once concluded that the extraordinary property of repulsion—if it really existed—lay in the combination of these two earths in certain proportions; and on this supposed principle he determined to act. Accordingly, having found a hollow in a rocky part of the river bank, in this he mixed portions of the two earths in exactly equal quantities, or rather, an equal weight of each, and then added water—but to no purpose. He succeeded in making mud—nothing else. He tried again, with double as much of the earth from outside the cave as of that from the cave, and still it was but mud. He then reversed the relative proportions, putting to the earth from outside the cave twice the weight of that from the cave, and added water: the whole slowly, with something like effervescence, united together in a solid lump, and rose into the air, gaining quickly in speed, and so continuing till it was lost to sight. His delight, according to his own admission, knew no bounds. Usually grave and stoical, he now clapped his hands, laughed, and danced for very joy. But this explosion over, he tried further experiments, with the like success, and took written note of them, so spending the whole of the day. He could scarcely sleep the next night, through joy at his success; for it appeared to him that, so far as theory went. he might now carry out the great idea of his life.
The next day, the trio addressed themselves to the return journey; but of this/ Geister scarcely mentioned an incident. So bare, indeed, was his whole narrative of adventure, that anything like a full account of his journey, from first to last, was not elicited from him till a subsequent period. Having, however, told me thus much, he produced specimens of the two earths forming the mysterious substance, which he aptly named “repellante.” I examined them eagerly. That obtained from the cave was of a clayey nature, and of a dark iron-grey colour; that from outside the cave was of a dark chocolate colour, lava-like, and easily crumbled into a fine powder, and there was a metallic sparkle in the grains. In the first I detected the presence of iron by the application of the magnet, but its other component parts I could not discover; it had, however, a somewhat sulphurous smell. The other was quite insensible to the magnet, was inodorous, and in every respect defied analysis.
I procured a basin, and in it mixed part of the two earths, in the ascertained proportion, and added water. Length of removal had not affected their qualities: they gradually, with a slight commotion and steam, resembling the slaking of lime, united together in one mass, which slowly rose, till it struck the ceiling of the room. Standing on a chair, I drew it down, and we attached it to a footstool, but that was too heavy for it to lift. With a birdcage and bird, however, it did rise—very slowly at first, but with a marked, though gradual, increase of speed, till it again struck the ceiling. Leaving it so, I next weighed the other portions of the earth, together amounting to three pounds, and adding water, with the same result as before, Geister held the lump of repellante thus formed, while I attached to it a three-pound weight. With this, somewhat to our surprise, when liberated, it rose; for we had expected that (the string attaching the weight reckoning as nothing) the whole, when let go between floor and ceiling, would remain in statu quo, as the weights of the earths before mixing was equal to the weight attached. To produce this, however, required a six-pound weight; thus proving, that the antagonism of the Earth (our planet) to this body, was just twice as great as its attraction of the earths before mixing.
There now occurred to me a difficulty with regard to the monk’s account of the rising of the fortress. As the addition of water to the ingredients, when mingled in right proportion, straightway produced the repulsive substance, how was it that the several pieces of the repellante, as they were formed, did not fly away? for the mixing of the earths in the construction of the fortress must have been but here and there in the exact proportions. This difficulty was partly answered by our bringing two pieces of repellante into close proximity with one another, when they were drawn together instead of repelling each other, as might have been expected. Also, as a further solution of the difficulty, we found that the earths, when mixed carelessly and irregularly, on contact with water, sought, as it were, their level—uniting by degrees into the mysterious “repellante,” and amalgamating in one as far as possible, with the rejection of the overplus earth of either kind, whichever it might be.
I said that a six-pound weight balanced the body of repellante upon which we were now experimenting. It did so within a shade; but—perhaps simply because of the weight of the string —it did not remain immovable twixt floor and ceiling, but, after a moment or so, began very slowly to descend, like a feather, or the down of a thistle. I now gave the whole a push, sending it over the table, upon which a tea-tray and tea- things were standing. To our great surprise, as it came over the tray, the weight suddenly fell, with the repellante, smash into the midst of the china, anil so remained, resting upon the débris of a saucer. This was curious. Why did it fall? I lifted it up, and again let it go, and it fell as before. Evidently there was something that neutralized the power of the repellante. What could it be? Was it the china? Surely not. The mahogany table? Not likely; but we would soon see. I again lifted the weight, the repellante rising with it and keeping the string taut, while Geister removed the tray to another table. As he slowly drew it from under the weight, I felt it grow lighter, as it were, and letting go my hold again, it remained, as at first, almost motionless; thus proving, that it was either the tray or the china that had the mysterious affinity for the repellante. Geister removed the tea-things, and, as it was still over the table, pushed the tray under it, when it again fell as suddenly and directly as before. It was, therefore, the tray. I rubbed off some of the varnish, and found that this tray was made of iron. Iron, then, was impervious to the repulsive influence.
It was a glorious discovery: we both saw it in a moment; and without a word, we shook hands in pure delight thereat. For the upshot of the discovery would be this : that, instead of having to detach portions of the repellante, in order to make the contemplated machine descend to the moon’s surface, and then again, in return, having to detach weights, previously suspended from the bottom of the car, in order to ascend again, when that should be desirable,—all this might be dispensed with, by simply interposing, in some way or other, a surface of iron between the repellante and the world beneath us,—partly or altogether withdrawing this iron, as we might wish either to check our rate of descent or renew our upward motion. Thus was perfected in theory the mode of effecting a voyage to the moon!