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diff --git a/8141-h/8141-h.htm b/8141-h/8141-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4110008 --- /dev/null +++ b/8141-h/8141-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8233 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Mr. Hawkins' Humorous Adventures, by Edgar Franklin + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Mr. Hawkins' Humorous Adventures, by Edgar Franklin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mr. Hawkins' Humorous Adventures + +Author: Edgar Franklin + + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8141] +This file was first posted on June 18, 2003 +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. HAWKINS' HUMOROUS ADVENTURES *** + + + + +Produced by Steen Christensen, Tom Chappell, Suzanne L. +Shell, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team; the HTML file provided by David Widger. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MR. HAWKINS' HUMOROUS ADVENTURES + </h1> + <h2> + By Edgar Franklin + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1904 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h5> + {Illustration: “That's enough, Hawkins,” I said, “come home."}<br /> (not + available in this edition) <br /><br /> + </h5> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Hawkins is part inventor and part idiot. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins has money, which generally mitigates idiocy; but in his case it + also allows free rein to his inventive genius, and that is a bad thing. + </p> + <p> + When I decided to build a nice, quiet summer home in the Berkshires, I + paid for the ground before discovering that the next villa belonged to + Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + Had I known then what I know now, my country-seat would be located + somewhere in central Illinois or western Oregon; but at that time my + knowledge of Hawkins extended no farther than the facts that he resided a + few doors below me in New York, and that we exchanged a kindly smile every + morning on the L. + </p> + <p> + One day last August, having mastered the mechanism of our little steam + runabout, my wife ventured out alone, to call upon Mrs. Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + I am not a worrying man, but automobile repairs are expensive, and when + she had been gone an hour or so I strolled toward our neighbors. + </p> + <p> + The auto I was relieved to find standing before the door, apparently in + good health, and I had already turned back when Hawkins came trotting + along the drive from the stable. + </p> + <p> + “Just in time, Griggs, just in time!” he cried, exuberantly. + </p> + <p> + “In time for what?” + </p> + <p> + “The first trial of—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, Hawkins—” I began, preparing to flee, for I knew too + well the meaning of that light in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The Hawkins Horse-brake!”, he finished, triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said, solemnly, “far be it from me to disparage your work; + but I recall most distinctly the Hawkins Aero-motor, which moted you to + the top of that maple tree and dropped you on my devoted head. I also have + some recollection of your gasolene milker, the one that exploded and + burned every hair off the starboard side of my best Alderney cow. If you + are bent on trying something new, hold it off until I can get my poor wife + out of harm's way.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins favored me with a stare that would have withered a row of hardy + sunflowers and turned his eyes to the stable. + </p> + <p> + Something was being led toward us from that direction. + </p> + <p> + The foundation of the something I recognized as Hawkins' aged work horse, + facetiously christened Maud S. The superstructure was the most remarkable + collection of mechanism I ever saw. + </p> + <p> + Four tall steel rods stuck into the air at the four corners of the animal. + They seemed to be connected in some way to a machine strapped to the back + of the saddle. + </p> + <p> + I presume the machine was logical enough if you understood it, but beyond + noting that it bore striking resemblance to the vital organs of a clock, I + cannot attempt a description. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Patrick,” said Hawkins, taking the bridle and regarding his + handiwork with an enraptured smile. “Well, Griggs, frankly, what do you + think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Frankly,” I said, “when I look at that thing, I feel somehow incapable of + thought.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather imagined that it would take your eye,” replied Hawkins, + complacently. “Now, just see the simplicity of the thing, Griggs. Drop + your childish prejudices for a minute and examine it. + </p> + <p> + “Let us suppose that this brake is fitted to a fiery saddle-horse. The + rider has lost all control. In another minute, unless he can stop the + beast, he will be dashed to the ground and kicked into pulp. What does he + do? Simply pulls this lever—thus! The animal can't budge!” + </p> + <p> + An uncanny clankety-clankety-clank accompanied his words, and the rods + dropped suddenly. In their descent they somehow managed to gather two + steel cuffs apiece. + </p> + <p> + When they ceased dropping, Maud S. had a steel bar down the back of each + leg, with a cuff above and a cuff below the knee. Hawkins was quite right—so + far as I could see; Maud was anchored until some well-disposed person + brought a hack-saw and cut off her shackles. + </p> + <p> + “You see how it acts when she is standing still?” chuckled the inventor, + replacing the rods. “Just keep your eyes open and note the suddenness with + which she stops running.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I cried, despairingly, as he led the animal up the road, “don't + go to all that trouble on my account. I can see perfectly that the thing + is a success. Don't try it again.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Griggs,” said Hawkins, coldly, “this trial trip is for my own + personal satisfaction, not yours. To tell the truth, I had no idea that + you or any one else would be here to witness my triumph.” + </p> + <p> + He went perhaps three or four hundred feet up the road; then he turned + Maud's nose homeward and clambered to her back. + </p> + <p> + As I waited behind the hedge, I grieved for the old mare. Hawkins + evidently intended urging her into something more rapid than the walk she + had used for so many years, and I feared that at her advanced age the + excitement might prove injurious. + </p> + <p> + But Maud broke into such a sedate canter when Hawkins had thumped her ribs + a few times with his heels, and her kindly old face seemed to wear such a + gentle expression as she approached, that I breathed easier. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Griggs!” cried Hawkins, coming abreast. “Watch—now!” + </p> + <p> + He thrust one hand behind, grasped the lever, and gave it a tug. The + little rods remained in the air. + </p> + <p> + A puzzled expression flitted over Hawkins' face, and as he cantered by he + appeared to tug a trifle harder. + </p> + <p> + This time something happened. + </p> + <p> + I heard a whir like the echo of a sawmill, and saw several yards of steel + spring shoot out of the inwards of the machine. I heard a sort of frantic + shriek from Maud S. I saw a sudden cloud of pebbles and dust in the road, + such as I should imagine would be kicked up by an exploding shell—and + that was all. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins, Maud, and the infernal machine were making for the county town + with none of the grace, but nearly all the speed, of a shooting star. + </p> + <p> + For a few seconds I stood dazed. + </p> + <p> + Then it occurred to me that Hawkins' wife would later wish to know what + his dying words had been, and I went into the auto with a flying leap, + sent it about in its own length, almost jumped the hedge, and thus started + upon a race whose memory will haunt me when greater things have faded into + the forgotten past. + </p> + <p> + My runabout, while hardly a racer, is supposed to have some pretty speedy + machinery stored away in it, but the engine had a big undertaking in + trying to overhaul that old mare. + </p> + <p> + It was painfully apparent that something—possibly righteous + indignation at being the victim of one of Hawkins' experiments—had + roused a latent devil within Maud S. Her heels were viciously threshing up + the dirt at the foot of the hill before I began my blood-curdling coast at + the top. + </p> + <p> + How under the sun anything could go faster than did that automobile is + beyond my conception; yet when I reached the level ground again and + breathed a little prayer of thanks that an all-wise Providence had spared + my life on the hill, Hawkins seemed still to have the same lead. + </p> + <p> + That he was traveling like a hurricane was evidenced by the wake of + fear-maddened chickens and barking dogs that were just recovering their + senses when I came upon them. + </p> + <p> + I put my lever back to the last notch. + </p> + <p> + Heavens, how that auto went! It rocked from one side of the road to the + other. It bounded over great stones and tried to veer into ditches, with + the express purpose of hurling me to destruction. + </p> + <p> + It snorted and puffed and rattled and skidded; but above all, it went! + </p> + <p> + There is no use attempting a record of my impressions during that first + half mile—in fact, I am not aware that I had any. But after a time I + drew nearer to Hawkins, and at last came within thirty feet of the + galloping Maud. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins' face was white and set, he bounced painfully up and down, risking + his neck at every bounce, but one hand kept a death-like grip on the lever + of the horse-brake. + </p> + <p> + “Jump!” I screamed. “Throw yourself off!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins regarded me with much the expression the early Christians must + have worn when conducted into the arena. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he shouted. “It's”—bump—“it's all right. It'll”—bump—“work + in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it won't! Jump, for Heaven's sake, jump!” + </p> + <p> + I think that Hawkins had framed a reply, but just then a particularly hard + bump appeared to knock the breath out of his body. He took a better grip + on the bridle and said no more. + </p> + <p> + I hardly knew what to do. Every minute brought us nearer to the town, + where traffic is rather heavy all day. + </p> + <p> + Up to now we had had a clear track, but in another five minutes a + collision would be almost as inevitable as the sunset. + </p> + <p> + I endeavored to recall the “First Aid to the Injured” treatment for + fractured skulls and broken backs, and I thanked goodness that there would + be only one auto to complete the mangling of Hawkins' remains, should they + drop into the road after the smash. + </p> + <p> + Would there? I glanced backward and gasped. Others had joined the pursuit, + and I was merely the vanguard of a procession. + </p> + <p> + Twenty feet to the rear loomed the black muzzle of Enos Jackson's trotter, + with Jackson in his little road-cart. Behind him, three bicyclists filled + up the gap between the road-cart and Dr. Brotherton's buggy. + </p> + <p> + I felt a little better at seeing Brotherton there. He set my hired man's + leg two years ago, and made a splendid job. + </p> + <p> + There was more of the cavalcade behind Brotherton, although the dust + revealed only glimpses of it; but I had seen enough to realize that if + Hawkins' brake did work, and Hawkins' mare stopped suddenly, there was + going to be a piled-up mass of men and things in the road that for sheer + mixed-up-edness would pale the average freight wreck. + </p> + <p> + Maud maintained her pace, and I did my best to keep up. + </p> + <p> + By this time I could see the reason for her mad flight. When the + explosion, or whatever it was, took place in the brake machinery, a jagged + piece of brass had been forced into her side, and there it remained, + stabbing the poor old beast with conscientious regularity at every leap. + </p> + <p> + I was still trying to devise some way of pulling loose the goad and + persuading Maud to slow down when we entered town. + </p> + <p> + At first the houses whizzed past at intervals of two or three seconds; but + it seemed hardly half a minute before we came in sight of the square and + the court house. We were creating quite an excitement, too. People + screamed frantically at us from porches and windows and the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally a man would spring into the road to stop Maud, think better + of it, and spring out again. + </p> + <p> + One misguided individual hurled a fence-rail across the path. It didn't + worry Maud in the slightest, for she happened to be all in the air while + passing over that particular point, but when the auto went over the rail + it nearly jarred out my teeth. + </p> + <p> + Another fellow pranced up, waving a many-looped rope over his head. I + think Maud must have transfixed him with her fiery eye, for before he + could throw it his nerve failed and he scuttled back to safety. + </p> + <p> + Those who had teams hitched in the square were hurrying them out of + danger, and when we whirled by the court-house only one buggy remained in + the road. + </p> + <p> + That buggy belonged to Burkett, the constable. The town pays Burkett a + percentage on the amount of work he does, and Burkett is keen on looking + up new business. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, there!” he shouted, as we came up. “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + Nobody stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, or I'll arrest the whole danged lot of ye fer fast drivin'!” roared + Burkett, gathering up reins and whip. + </p> + <p> + And with that he dashed into the place behind Enos Jackson and crowded the + bicyclists to the side of the road. + </p> + <p> + Our county town is a small one, and at the pace set by Maud it didn't take + us long to reach the far side and sweep out on the highway which leads, + eventually, to Boston. + </p> + <p> + I began to wonder dimly whether Maud's wind and my water and gasolene + would carry us to the Hub, and, if so, what would happen when we had + passed through the city. + </p> + <p> + Just beyond Boston, you know, is the Atlantic Ocean. + </p> + <p> + At this point in my meditations we started down the slope to the big + creamery. + </p> + <p> + The building is located to the right of the road. On the left, a rather + steep grassy embankment drops perhaps thirty feet to the little river. + </p> + <p> + On this beautiful sunny afternoon, the creamery's milk cans, something + like a hundred in number, were airing by the roadside, just on the edge of + the embankment; and as we thundered down I smiled grimly to think of the + attractive little frill Maud might add to her performance by kicking a + dozen or two of the milk cans into the river as she passed. + </p> + <p> + Maud, however, as she approached the cans, kept fairly in the middle of + the road—and stopped! + </p> + <p> + Heavens! She stopped so short that I gasped for breath. All in a twinkling + the steel rods dropped into position beside her legs, the cuffs snapped, + and the Hawkins Horse-brake had worked at last! + </p> + <p> + Poor old Maud! She slid a few yards with rigid limbs, squealing in terror, + and then crashed to the ground like an overturned toy horse. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins shot off into space, and at the moment I didn't care greatly where + he landed. I was vaguely conscious that he collided head-on with the row + of milk-cans, but my main anxiety was to shut off my power, set the brake, + point the auto into the ditch, and jump. + </p> + <p> + And I did it all in about one second. + </p> + <p> + After the jump, my recollection grows hazy. I know that one of my feet + landed in an open milk-can, and that I grabbed wildly at several others. + Then the cans and I toppled headlong over the embankment and went down, + down, down, while, fainter and fainter, I could hear something like: + </p> + <p> + “Whoa! Whoa! Gol darn ye! Ow! Stop that hoss! Bang! Rattle! Rattle! Bang! + Whoa! Stop, can't ye?” + </p> + <p> + Then a peculiarly unyielding milk-can landed on my head and I seemed to + float away. + </p> + <p> + I have reason to believe that I sat up about two minutes later. The crash + was over and peace had settled once more upon the face of nature. + </p> + <p> + From far away came the sound of galloping hoofs, belonging, no doubt, to + some of the horses who had participated in the late excitement. + </p> + <p> + The embankment was strewn with men and milk-cans, chiefly the latter. No + one seemed to be wholly dead, although one or two looked pretty near it. + </p> + <p> + A few feet away, Burkett, the constable, was having a convulsion in his + vain endeavour to extricate his cranium from a milk-can. The sounds that + issued from that can made me blush. + </p> + <p> + Jackson was sitting up and staring dully at the river, while Dr. + Brotherton, with his frock-coat split to the collar, was fishing fragments + of his medicine case out of another can. + </p> + <p> + Others of the erstwhile procession were distributed about the embankment + in various conditions, but, as I have said, nobody seemed to have parted + company with the vital spark. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins alone was invisible, and as I struggled to my feet this fact + puzzled me considerably. + </p> + <p> + A pile of milk-cans balanced on the river's edge, and on the chance of + finding the inventor's remains, I tipped them into the stream. Underneath, + stretched on the cold, unsympathetic ground, his feet dabbling idly in the + water, his clothes in a hundred shreds, a great lump on his brow, was + Hawkins, stunned and bleeding! + </p> + <p> + As I turned to summon Brotherton, Hawkins opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + I am not one to cherish a grudge. I felt that Hawkins' invention had been + its own terrible punishment. So I helped him to his feet as gently as + possible, and waited for apologetic utterances. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Griggs,” began Hawkins, uncertainly—“you see, the—the + ratchet on the big wheel—stuck. I'll put a new—a new ratchet + there, and oil—lots of oil—on the—the——” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough, Hawkins,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Come home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but don't you see,” he groaned, holding fast to his battered skull + as I helped him back to the road, “if I get that one little point + perfected—it—it will revol——” + </p> + <p> + “Let it!” I snapped. “Sit here until I see what's left of my automobile.” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, Patrick having appeared to take charge of Maud S., + Hawkins and I were making our homeward way in the runabout, which had + mercifully been spared. + </p> + <p> + Something in my face must have forbidden conversation, for Hawkins wrapped + the soiled fragments of his raiment about him in offended dignity, and was + silent on the subject of horse-brake. + </p> + <p> + Nor have I ever heard of the thing since. Possibly Mrs. Hawkins succeeded + in demonstrating the fallacy of the whole horse-brake theory; in fact, + from the expression on her face when we reached the house, I am inclined + to think that she did. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins can be strong-minded on occasion, and her tongue is in no way + inadequate to the needs of her mind. At any rate, a friend of mine in the + patent office, whom I asked about the matter some time ago, tells, me that + the Hawkins Horse-brake has never been patented, so that I presume the + invention is in its grave. As a public spirited citizen, I venture to add + that this is a blessing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + My wife is averse to widowhood. Lately she exacted my solemn pledge not to + assist Hawkins with any more of his diabolical inventions. + </p> + <p> + For a similar reason, his own good lady drew me aside a few evenings + since, and insisted upon my promising to use every means, physical force + included, which might prevent her “Herbert” from experimenting further + with his motor. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins hadn't favored me with any confidences about the motor, and at the + first opportunity I indicated with brutal directness that none was + desired. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins inquired with frigid asperity as to my meaning; but the very + iciness of his manner satisfied me that he understood perfectly, and, + believing that he was sufficiently offended to keep entirely to himself + all details of his machine—whatever it might be—I breathed + more easily. + </p> + <p> + Some of these days one of Hawkins' inventions is going to take him on a + personally conducted tour to a quiet little grave, and I have no wish to + learn the itinerary beforehand. + </p> + <p> + Now, bitter experience has taught me that eternal vigilance is the price + of freedom from complicity with the mechanical contrivances of Hawkins, + and I should have been suspicious. Yet when Hawkins appeared Sunday + morning and asked me to go for a little jaunt up the Hudson in his launch, + I accepted with guileless good faith. + </p> + <p> + His launch was—perhaps it is still—the neatest of neat little + pleasure boats, and when we left the house I anticipated several hours of + keen enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + Crossing Riverside Drive, it struck me that Hawkins was hurrying, but the + balmy air, the sunshine, and the beautiful sweep of the river filled my + mind with infinite peace, and it was not until we had descended to the + little dock that I smelled anything suggestive of rat. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins climbed into the launch, and I smiled benignly on him as I handed + down the lunch and our overcoats. I had just finished passing them over + when I stopped smiling so suddenly that it jarred my facial muscles. + </p> + <p> + “Where has the engine gone?” I demanded. + </p> + <p> + “That engine, Griggs,” responded Hawkins, pleasantly, “has gone where all + other steam engines will go within the next two years—into the scrap + heap.” + </p> + <p> + “Which very cheerful prophecy means——” + </p> + <p> + “It means, my dear boy, that before you stands the first full-sized + working model of the Hawkins A. P. motor, patent applied for!” + </p> + <p> + The inventor flicked off a waterproof cover and exposed to view in the + stern of the launch what looked like an inverted wash-boiler. At first + glance it appeared to be merely a dome of heavy steel, bolted to a massive + bed-plate, but I didn't spend much time examining the thing. + </p> + <p> + “There, Griggs,” began Hawkins, triumphantly, “in that small——” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I cried, desperately, “you get out of that boat! Get out of it, + I say! Come home with me at once. I'm not going to be mixed up in any more + of your wretched trial-trips. Come on, or I'll drag you out!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins eyed me coldly for a minute, admonished me not to be an ass, and + went on untying the launch. + </p> + <p> + He is stronger and heavier than I. Frankly, had I meditated such a course + seriously, I couldn't have hoisted him out of his boat. + </p> + <p> + If I had ever studied medicine, I suppose I should have known how to stun + Hawkins from above without killing him, but I have never even seen the + inside of a hospital. + </p> + <p> + Again, could I have conjured up any plausible charge, I might have called + a policeman and requested him to incarcerate Hawkins; at the moment, + however, I was a bit too flustered for such refined strategy. + </p> + <p> + Obviously, I couldn't prevent Hawkins testing his motor, but my heart + quaked at the idea of accompanying him. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, it quaked quite as much before the prospect of + returning to his wife and admitting that I had allowed Hawkins to sail + away alone with his accursed motor. + </p> + <p> + If I went with him, a relatively easy death by drowning was about the best + I could expect. If I didn't, his wife—— + </p> + <p> + I stepped down into the launch. + </p> + <p> + “Coming, are you?” observed Hawkins. “Quite the sensible thing to do, + Griggs. You'll never regret it.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows, I hope not,” I sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Now, in the first place, I may as well call your attention again to the + motor. The A. P. stands for 'almost perpetual'—good name, isn't it? + You don't know much about chemistry, Griggs, or I could make the whole + proposition clear to you.” + </p> + <p> + “The great point about my motor, however, is that she's run by a fluid + somewhat similar to gasolene—another of the distillation products of + petroleum, in fact—which, having been exploded, passes into my new + and absolutely unique catalytic condensers, where it is returned to its + original molecular structure and run back into the reservoir.” + </p> + <p> + “Hence,” finished Hawkins, dramatically, “the fuel retains its chemical + integrity indefinitely, and, as it circulates automatically through the + motor, the little engine will run for months at a time without a particle + of attention. Is that quite clear?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” I lied. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Now I'll show you how she starts,” smiled the inventor, + opening with a key a little door in the wash-boiler and lighting a match. + </p> + <p> + “Careful, Hawkins, careful,” I ventured, backing toward the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he sneered, “can you not grasp that in an engine of this + construction, there is absolutely no danger of any kind of explo——” + </p> + <p> + Just then a heavy report issued from the wash-boiler. A sheet of flame + seemed to flash from the little opening and precipitate Hawkins into my + arms. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, he landed there with a violent shock, and I clutched him + tightly, and tried to steady the launch. + </p> + <p> + “Leggo! Leggo!” he screamed. “Let me go, you idiot! It always does that! + It's working now.” + </p> + <p> + He was right. The launch was churning up a peculiarly serpentine wake, and + the motor was buzzing furiously. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins dived toward his machinery, tinkered it with nervous haste for a + little, and finally managed to head the boat down-stream just as a + collision with the Palisades seemed inevitable. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Griggs,” he remarked, smoothing down his ruffled feathers, “you + mustn't interfere with me like that again. We might have hit something + that time.” + </p> + <p> + “We did come near uprooting that cliff,” I admitted. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins thereupon ignored me for a period of three minutes. Then his + temper returned and he began a discourse on the virtues of his motor. + </p> + <p> + It was long and involved and utterly unintelligible, I think, to any one + save Hawkins. It lasted until we had passed the Battery and were in the + shadow of Governor's Island. + </p> + <p> + Then it seemed time for me to remark: + </p> + <p> + “We're going to turn back pretty soon, aren't we, Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + “Turn back? What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if we're going up the Hudson, we can't run much farther in this + direction.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang the Hudson!” smiled the inventor. “We'll go down around Sandy Hook, + eat our lunch, and be back in the city at two, sharp. Why, Griggs, this is + no scow. What speed do you suppose this motor can develop?” + </p> + <p> + “I give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred knots an hour!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it! You don't believe it, do you?” snapped Hawkins, who must + have read my thoughts. “Well, she can make it easy. I'll just start her up + to show you.” + </p> + <p> + Argument with Hawkins is futile. I saved my breath on the chance of + finding better use for it later on. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins unlocked his little door, fished around in the machinery, and + fastened the door again with a calm smile. + </p> + <p> + Simultaneously, the launch seemed to leap from the water in its anxiety to + get ahead. For a few seconds it quivered from end to end. Then it settled + down at a gait that actually made me gasp. + </p> + <p> + I am not positive that we made one hundred knots to the hour, but I do + know that I never traveled in an express train that hastened as did that + poor launch when the Hawkins A. P. motor began to push it through the + water. + </p> + <p> + An account of our trip down the Narrows and into the Lower Bay would be + interesting, but extraneous. Hawkins sat erect beside his infernal + machine, looking like a cavalryman in the charge. I squatted in the cabin + and watched things flash past. + </p> + <p> + The main point is that we reached the open water without smashing anything + or smashing into anything. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think we may as well swing around,” said Hawkins, glancing at his + watch. “It's wonderful, the control I have over the launch now. Every bit + of the steering-gear is located in that steel dome, along with the motor, + Griggs. Nothing at all exposed but this little wheel. + </p> + <p> + “You observed, probably, that I set it a few moments ago, so that the wind + wouldn't blow us about, and haven't touched it since. Now note how we + shall turn back.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins grasped his little wheel, puffed up his chest, and gave a + tremendous twist. + </p> + <p> + And the wheel snapped off in Hawkins' hands! + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—why——” he stuttered, in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, now you've done it!” I rapped out, savagely. “How the dickens are we + to get back?” + </p> + <p> + “There, Griggs, there,” said Hawkins, “don't be so childishly impatient. I + shall simply unlock this case again and control the steering-gear from the + inside. Certainly even you must be able to understand that.” + </p> + <p> + The calm superiority of his tone was maddening. + </p> + <p> + One or two of my sentiments defied restraint. + </p> + <p> + Heaven knows I didn't suppose it would make Hawkins nervous to hear them, + but it did. His hands shook as he fumbled with the key of his steel box, + and at a particularly vicious remark of mine he stood erect. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Griggs, you've put us in a hole this time!” he groaned. + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “You made me so nervous that I snapped that key off short in the lock!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” I shrieked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. The motor's locked up in there with fuel enough to keep her + going for three months. I can't stop her or move the rudder without + getting into the case, and nothing but dynamite would dent that case!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Hawkins,” I said, a terrible calm coming over me, “we shall have to + go straight ahead now until we hit something or are blown up. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” muttered Hawkins, defiantly. “And it's all your fault!” + </p> + <p> + I transfixed the inventor with a vindictive stare, until he abandoned the + attempt at bravado and looked away. + </p> + <p> + “We—we may blow back, you know,” he said, vaguely, addressing the + breeze. + </p> + <p> + “The chances of that being particularly favorable by reason of your having + set your miserable rudder to correspond with the present wind?” I asked. + “Can't we tear up the woodwork and contrive some sort of rudder?” + </p> + <p> + “We could,” admitted Hawkins, “if it wasn't all riveted down with my own + patented rivets, which can't be removed, once they're set.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins' rivets are really what they claim to be. Only one consideration + has delayed their universal adoption. They cost a trifle less than one + dollar apiece to manufacture and set. + </p> + <p> + But they stay where they are put, and I knew that if the launch's woodwork + was held together by them, it wasn't likely to come apart much before + Judgment Day. + </p> + <p> + “Real nice mess, isn't it, Hawkins?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “It—it might be worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Far worse,” I agreed. “We might be wallowing helplessly around in those + heaving billows, or a gale might be tiring itself all out in the effort to + swamp us. But, as it is, we are merely careering gaily over the sunlit + waves at an unearthly speed. In a day or two, Hawkins, we shall sight the + French coast, barring accidents, go ashore, and——” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, Griggs!” exclaimed the inventor, lighting up on the instant. “Do + you know, I hadn't thought of that? Just let me see. Yes, my boy, at this + rate we shall be in the Bay of Biscay Monday night or Tuesday morning, at + the latest. Think of it, Griggs! Think of the fame! Think of——” + </p> + <p> + I couldn't bear to think of it any longer. I knew that if I thought about + it for another ten seconds, I should hurl Hawkins into the sea and go to + my own watery grave with murder on my hands. + </p> + <p> + The bow of the launch being the furthest possible point from its owner, I + gathered up my overcoat, cigars, and a sandwich, and crouched there, + keeping out of the terrific wind as much as possible, watching for a + possible vessel and munching the food with a growing wonder as to whether + I should ever return to the happy home wherein it was prepared. + </p> + <p> + There I sat until sunset, and it was the latest sunset I have ever + observed. With dusk descending over the lonely ocean, I returned in + silence to Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + He was in bounding spirits. He chattered incessantly about the trip, + planned a lecture tour—“Across the Atlantic in Forty Hours”—formed + a stock company to manufacture his motor, offered me the London agency at + an incredible salary, and built a stately mansion just off Central Park + with his own portion of the proceeds. + </p> + <p> + Having babbled himself dry, Hawkins informed me that salt air invariably + made him sleepy, and crawled into the cabin for slumber. + </p> + <p> + And he slept. It passed my understanding, but the man had such utter + confidence in himself and his unintentional trip that he snored peacefully + throughout the night. + </p> + <p> + I didn't. I felt that my last hours in the land of the living should be + passed in consciousness, and I spent that terrible time of darkness in + more or less prayerful meditation. + </p> + <p> + After ages, the dawn arrived. I lit another cigar, and wriggled wearily to + the bow of the boat and scanned the waters. + </p> + <p> + There was a vessel! Far, far away, to be sure, but steaming so that we + must cross her path in another fifteen minutes. + </p> + <p> + I tore off my overcoat, scrambled to the little deck, wound one arm about + a post, and waved the coat frantically. + </p> + <p> + Nearer and nearer we came to the steamer. More and more I feared that the + signal might be unnoticed, or noticed too late. But it wasn't. + </p> + <p> + I have known some happy sights in my time, but I never saw anything that + filled me with one-half the joy I felt on realizing that the + steamer-people were lowering one of their boats. + </p> + <p> + They were doing it, there was no doubt about the matter. In five minutes + we should be near enough to their cutter to swim for it. + </p> + <p> + I dived to the stern to awaken Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + He was already awake. He stood there, tousled and happy, sniffing the + crisp air, and he had seen the approaching boat. + </p> + <p> + “Got it ready?” he inquired, placidly. + </p> + <p> + “Got what ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the message,” exclaimed Hawkins, opening his eyes in astonishment. + “We'll have to hustle with it, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins, what new idiocy is this?” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Surely we're going to give that steamer a few lines to tell the world + about our trip?” + </p> + <p> + Seconds passed, before the full, terrible significance of his words + filtered into my brain. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say,” I roared, “that you are not going to swim for that + boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do mean to say it,” he replied stiffly. “Let me have your + fountain pen, Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + I took one glance at the boat. I took another at Hawkins. Then I gripped + him about the waist and threw my whole soul into the task of pitching him + overboard. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins, as I have said, is heavier than I. He puffed and strained and + pulled and hauled at me, swearing like a trooper the while. And neither of + us budged an inch. + </p> + <p> + The cutter came nearer, nearer, always nearer. Thirty seconds more and we + should shoot by it forever. The thought of losing this chance of rescue + almost maddened me. + </p> + <p> + I had just gathered all my strength for one last heave when the middle of + my back experienced the most excruciating pain it has ever known. + Something seemed to lift me clear of the launch, with Hawkins in my arms; + I heard a dull report from somewhere, and then we dropped together, right + through the surface of the sparkling Atlantic Ocean! + </p> + <p> + Hawkins was picked up first. When I came to the surface, two dark-skinned + sailormen were dragging him in, struggling and cursing and pointing wildly + toward the horizon, where his launch was careering away with the speed of + the wind. + </p> + <p> + It was the French liner La France which had the honor of our rescue. She + deposited us in New York on Wednesday morning. + </p> + <p> + Over the rest of this tale hover some painful memories. I am not a + fighting man, but I am free to say that when my wife and Mrs. Hawkins + delivered to me their joint opinion on broken promises, their sex alone + saved them from personal damage. + </p> + <p> + It was upon me that the blame appeared to rest entirely. At least, Hawkins + didn't come in for any of it at the time. + </p> + <p> + Just at the moment of that emotional interview, Hawkins was busy in his + work-shop—perfecting something. + </p> + <p> + It seems that the motor, after all, was our salvation. Hawkins says that + some of the power must have dribbled out of the machine proper and blown + the steel dome from its foundations. + </p> + <p> + Assuredly there was plenty of energy behind the thing when it struck me; I + have darting pains in that portion of my anatomy every damp day. + </p> + <p> + The launch has never been reported, which is probably quite as well. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it has reached the open Polar Sea, and is butting itself into + flinders against the ice-cakes. Perhaps it is terrorizing some cannibal + tribe in the southern oceans by inflicting dents on the shoreline of their + island. + </p> + <p> + Wherever the poor little boat may be, it contains eleven of my best + cigars, the better part of a substantial meal, and, what is in my eyes of + less importance, the sole existing example of what Hawkins still considers + an ideal generator of power. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + We were sitting on my porch, smoking placidly in the sunset glow, when + Hawkins aroused himself from a momentary reverie and remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Now, if the body were made of aluminum it would be far lighter and just + as strong, wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably, Hawkins,” I replied, “but it would also be decidedly stiff and + inconvenient. Just imagine how one's aluminium knees would crackle and + bend going up and down-stairs, and what an awful job one would have + conforming one's aluminum spinal column to the back of a chair.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, no,” cried Hawkins, impatiently. “I don't mean the human + body, Griggs; I——” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear it,” I said. “Don't you go to inventing an aluminum man, + Hawkins. Good, old-fashioned flesh and bones have been giving thorough + satisfaction for the past few thousand years, and it would be wiser for + you to turn your peculiar talents toward——” + </p> + <p> + “There! there! That will do!” snapped the inventor, standing stiffly erect + and throwing away his cigar. “This is not the first time that that + mistaken humor of yours has prevented your absorbing new ideas, Griggs. + Incidentally, I may mention that I was referring to the body of an + automobile. Good-evening!” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Hawkins stalked up the road in the direction of his summer home, + and I wondered for a minute if his words might not be prophetic of future + trouble. + </p> + <p> + Now, where any aspersion is cast upon his inventive genius, Hawkins is + quick to anger, but usually he is equally ready to forgive and forget. + Hence it astonished me that two whole weeks passed Without the appearance + of his genial countenance on my premises. + </p> + <p> + They were really two weeks of peace unbroken, but I had begun to think + that it might be better for me to stroll over and beg pardon for my levity + when one bright morning Hawkins came chug-chugging up the drive in a huge, + new, red automobile. + </p> + <p> + It was of the type so constructed that the two rear seats of the car may + be dropped off at will, converting it into a carriage for two, and the + only peculiar detail I noted was the odd-looking top or canopy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think of her?” demanded Hawkins with some pride. + </p> + <p> + “She's all right,” I said, admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Body's built of aluminum,” continued the inventor. “Jump in and feel the + action of her.” + </p> + <p> + As I have said, barring the canopy, the thing appeared to be an ordinary + touring-car, and I was tired of lolling in the hammock. Without misgiving, + I climbed in beside Hawkins, and he turned back to the road. + </p> + <p> + The auto did run beautifully. I had never been in a machine that was so + totally indifferent to rough spots. + </p> + <p> + When we came to a hillock, we simply floated over it. If we reached an + uncomfortably sharp turn, the auto seemed to rise and cut it off with + hardly a swerve. + </p> + <p> + Once or twice I noticed that Hawkins deliberately steered out of the road + and into big rocks; but the auto, in the most peculiar manner, just + touched them and bounced over with never a jar. + </p> + <p> + In fact, after two miles of rather heavy going, I suddenly realized that I + hadn't experienced the slightest of jolts. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I observed, “the man that made the springs under this thing + must have been a magician.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” said the inventor. “On to it at last that there is something + out of the ordinary about this auto, are you? But it's not the springs, my + dear boy, it's not the springs!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Griggs,” said Hawkins, beaming upon me, “you are riding in the first and + only Hawkins' Auto-aero-mobile! That's what it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Another invention!” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, another invention. What the deuce are you turning pale about?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your inventions, Hawkins—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be such a coward, Griggs. Except that I had the body built of + aluminum, this is just an ordinary automobile. The invention lies in the + canopy. It's a balloon!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it—is it?” I said weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Just at present it's a balloon with not quite enough gas in it + to counterbalance the pull of gravitation on the car and ourselves. I've + got two cylinders of compressed gas still connected with it. When I let + them feed automatically into the balloon, and then automatically drop the + iron cylinders themselves in to the road, we shall fairly bound over the + ground, because the balloon will just a trifle more than carry the whole + outfit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't waste all that good gas, Hawkins,” I said hastily. “I can—I + can understand perfectly just how we should bound without that.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about the gas,” smiled Hawkins placidly. “It costs + practically nothing. There! One of the cylinders is discharging now.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced timidly above. Sure enough, the canopy was expanding slowly and + assuming a spherical shape. + </p> + <p> + Presently a thud announced that Hawkins had dropped the cylinder. Then he + pulled another lever, and the process was repeated. + </p> + <p> + As the second cylinder dropped, we rose nearly a foot into the air. Still + we maintained a forward motion, and that was puzzling. + </p> + <p> + “How is it, Hawkins,” I quavered, “that we're still going ahead when we + don't touch the ground more than once in a hundred feet?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the propeller,” chuckled the inventor. “I put a propeller at the + back, so that the auto is almost a dirigible balloon. Oh, there's nothing + lacking about the Hawkins Auto-aero-mobile, Griggs, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + When I had recovered from the first nervous shock, the contrivance really + did not seem so dangerous. + </p> + <p> + We traveled in long, low leaps, the machine rarely rising more than a foot + from the ground, and the motion was certainly unique and rather pleasant. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, I have a haunting fear of anything invented by Hawkins, and + my mind would insist upon wandering to thoughts of home. + </p> + <p> + “Not going down-town, are you, Hawkins?” I asked with what carelessness I + could assume. + </p> + <p> + “Just for a minute. I want some cigars.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I murmured, “you are a pretty heavy man. When you get out of + this budding airship, it won't soar into the heavens with me, will it?” + </p> + <p> + “It would if I got out,” said the inventor, with pleasant assurance. “But + I'm not going to get out. We'll let the cigar man bring the stuff to us.” + </p> + <p> + So it would rise if any weight left the car! That was food for thought. + </p> + <p> + Suppose Hawkins, who operated the auto according to the magazine pictures + of racing chauffeurs, leaning far forward, should topple into the road? + Suppose a stray breeze should tilt the machine and throw out some part? + </p> + <p> + Up without doubt, we should go, and there seemed to be quite an open space + up above, through which we might travel indefinitely without hitting + anything that would stay our celestial journey. + </p> + <p> + “How do you let the gas out of the balloon, Hawkins?” I ventured + presently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the cock's down underneath the machine,” said that gentleman briefly. + “Don't worry, Griggs. I'm here.” + </p> + <p> + That, in a nutshell, was just what was worrying me, but there seemed to be + nothing more to say. I relapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + We rolled or floated or bounced, or whatever you may choose to call it, + into town without accident or incident. People stared considerably at the + kangaroo antics of our car, and one or two horses, after their first + glance, developed <i>furor transitorius</i> on the spot; but Hawkins + managed to pull up before his cigar store, which was in the outskirts of + the town, without kicking up any very serious disturbance. + </p> + <p> + The cigars aboard, I had hoped to turn my face homeward. Not so Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Now, down we go to the square,” he cried buoyantly, “do a turn before the + court house, float straight over the common, and then bounce away home. I + guess it'll make the natives talk, eh, Griggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Your things usually do, Hawkins,” I sighed. “But why perform to-day? This + is only the first trial trip. Something might go wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” laughed the inventor, “this is one of those trial trips + that simply can't go wrong, because every detail is perfected to the + uttermost limit.” + </p> + <p> + That settled it; we made for the square. + </p> + <p> + The square, be it remarked, is in the center of the town. The court house + stands on one side, the post office on the other, and the square itself is + a beautifully kept lawn. + </p> + <p> + We were just in sight of the grass when I fancied that I detected a + rattle. + </p> + <p> + “What's that noise, Hawkins?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Give it up. Something in the machinery. It's nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “But I seem to feel a peculiar shaking in the machine,” I persisted. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to feel a great many things that don't exist, Griggs,” remarked + Hawkins, with a touch of contempt. + </p> + <p> + “But——” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, mister!” yelled a small boy. “Hey! Yer back seat's fallin' off!” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” muttered Hawkins, too full of importance to turn his + head. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! Hey!” cried the youngster, pursuing us. “Dat back seat's most fell + off!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” shrieked Hawkins, whirling about. “Good Lord! So it is! Catch it, + Griggs, catch it quick!” + </p> + <p> + I turned. The boy was right. The rear seats of the automobile had managed + to detach themselves. + </p> + <p> + In fact, even as we stared, they were hanging by a single bolt, and the + head of that was missing. + </p> + <p> + “Griggs! Griggs!” shouted Hawkins, wildly endeavoring to stop the engine. + “Grab those seats before they fall! I didn't screw 'em on with a wrench—only + used my hands—but I supposed they were fast. Heavens! If they drop, + we shall go——” + </p> + <p> + Just at that moment a sudden jolt sent the seats into the road. + </p> + <p> + Two hundred pounds of solid material had left the Hawkins + Auto-aero-mobile! + </p> + <p> + Hawkins didn't have to finish the sentence. + </p> + <p> + It became painfully evident where we should go. + </p> + <p> + We went up! + </p> + <p> + Up, up, up! In the suddenness of it, it seemed to me that we were shooting + straight for the midday sun, that another thirty seconds would see us + frying in the solar flames. + </p> + <p> + As I gripped the cushions, I believe that I shrieked with terror. + </p> + <p> + But Hawkins, scared though he was, didn't lose his head entirely. The + machine hadn't turned turtle. It was ascending slowly in its normal + attitude, and as a matter of cold fact we hadn't risen more than thirty + feet when Hawkins remarked, shakily: + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Griggs! Sit still! It's all right. We're safe!” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” I gasped, when sufficient breath had returned. “It looks as if we + were safe, doesn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “N-n-never mind how it looks, Griggs. We are. The propeller's working + now.” + </p> + <p> + “What good does that do us?” I demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” cried the inventor, pulling himself together. “Why, we shall + simply steer for the roof of a house and alight.” + </p> + <p> + “Always provided that this cursed contrivance doesn't heave us out first!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it won't,” smiled Hawkins, settling down to his machinery once more. + “Dear me, Griggs, do look at the crowd!” + </p> + <p> + There was indeed a crowd. They had sprung up on the instant, and they were + racing along beneath us across the common, quite regardless of the “Keep + Off the Grass” signs. + </p> + <p> + “How they will stare when we step out on the roof, won't they?” observed + Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “If we don't step out on their heads!” I snapped. “Steer away from those + telegraph wires, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course,” said the inventor, nervously regarding the thirty + or forty wires strung directly across our path. “Queer this thing doesn't + respond more readily!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, make her respond!” I cried, excitedly, for the wires were + dangerously near. + </p> + <p> + “I'm doing my best, Griggs,” grunted the inventor, twisting this wheel and + pulling that lever. “Don't worry, we'll sail over them all right. We'll + just—pshaw!” + </p> + <p> + With a gentle, swaying kind of bump, the auto stopped. We had grounded, so + to speak, on the telegraph wires. + </p> + <p> + “That's the end of this trial trip!” I remarked, caustically. “The + epilogue will consist of the scene we create in distributing our brains + over that green grass below.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tut, tut!” said Hawkins. “This is nothing serious. I'll just start + the propeller on the reverse and we'll float off backward.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, wait a minute before you start it,” I said. “They're shouting + something.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't jump! Don't jump!” cried the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Who the dickens is going to jump?” replied Hawkins, angrily, leaning over + the side. “Fools!” he observed to me. + </p> + <p> + “The hook and ladder's coming!” continued a stentorian voice. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “Don't jump! Don't jump!” cried the crowd.} + </p> + <p> + “Well, they'll have their trouble for their pains,” snapped Hawkins. “We + shall be on the ground before they get here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not wait?” I said. “We'll be sure to get down safely that way, and + you don't know what you may do by starting the machinery. The wires are + all mixed up in it, and they may smash and drag us down, or upset us, + Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Croak! Croak! Croak!” replied Hawkins, sourly. “Go on and croak till your + dying day, Griggs. If any one ever offers a prize for a pessimistic + alarmist, you take my advice and compete. You'll win. <i>I'm</i> going to + start the engine and get out of this.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled the reverse lever, and the engine buzzed merrily. The auto + indulged in a series of unwholesome convulsive shivers, but it didn't + budge. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! Hey!” floated up from the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, look and see what they're howling about now,” growled Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + The cause of their vociferations was only too apparent. + </p> + <p> + Ping! Ping! Ping! One by one, sawed in two by the machine, the telegraph + wires were snapping! + </p> + <p> + “Stop it! Stop it, Hawkins!” I cried. “You're smashing the wires!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose I am? That'll let us out, won't it?” + </p> + <p> + “See here,” I said, sternly, “if an all wise Providence should happen to + spare us from being dragged down and dashed to pieces, consider the bill + for repairs which you'll have to foot. You stop that engine, Hawkins, or + I'll do it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well——” said the inventor, doubtfully. “There! Now be + satisfied. I've stopped it, and we'll wait and be taken down the ladder + like a couple of confounded Italian women in a tenement house fire.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins sat back with a sullen scowl. I drew a long breath of relief, and + began to scan the landscape for signs of the hook and ladder company. + </p> + <p> + They were a long time in coming. Meanwhile, we were hanging in space, a + frisky balloon overhead, and below, Hawkins' engine having considerately + left a little of the telegraph company's property uninjured, six telegraph + wires and a gaping crowd. + </p> + <p> + But the ladders couldn't be very far off now, and we seemed safe enough, + until— + </p> + <p> + “What's that sizzling, Hawkins?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he replied, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't you try to find out?” I said, sharply. “It seems to me + that we're resting pretty heavily on those wires.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” I glanced out at the balloon canopy. “Great Scott, Hawkins, the + balloon's leaking!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What?” he cried, suddenly galvanized into action. “Where, Griggs, + where?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. But that's what is happening. See how the wires are sagging—more + and more every second.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Cesar's ghost! Listen. Yes, the wires must have hit the escape + valve. Why, the gas is simply pouring out of the balloon. And the + machine's getting heavier and heavier. And we're just resting on those six + wires, Griggs! Oh, Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “And presently, Hawkins, we shall break the wires and drop?” I suggested, + with forced calm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” cried the inventor. “What'll we do, Griggs, what'll we do?” + </p> + <p> + Frightened as I was, I couldn't see what was to be gained by hysterics. + </p> + <p> + “I presume,” I said, “that the best thing is to sit still and wait for the + end.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but think, man, think of that awful drop! Forty feet, if it's an + inch!” + </p> + <p> + “Fully.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we'll simply be knocked to flinders!” + </p> + <p> + “Probably.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the idiots! The idiots!” raged Hawkins, shaking his fists at the + crowd. “Why didn't they bring a fire net? Why hasn't one of them sense + enough to get one? We could jump then.” + </p> + <p> + Ping! The first of the six wires had snapped. + </p> + <p> + Ping! The second had followed suit. + </p> + <p> + The Hawkins Auto-aero-mobile was very delicately balanced now on four slim + wires, and the balloon was collapsing with heart-rending rapidity. From + below sounds of excitement were audible, here and there a groan and now a + scream of horror, as some new-comer realized our position. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said, solemnly, “why don't you make a vow right now that if + we ever get out of this alive——” + </p> + <p> + Ping! went the third wire. The auto swayed gently for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You'll never invent another thing as long as you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Griggs,” said Hawkins, in trembling tones, “I almost believe that you are + right. Where on earth can that hook and ladder be? Yes, you are right. + I'll do—I'll—can you see them yet, Griggs? I'll do it! I swear——” + </p> + <p> + Ping! Ping! Ping! + </p> + <p> + Still sitting upon the cushions, I felt my heart literally leap into my + throat. My eyes closed before a sudden rush of wind. My hands gripped out + wildly. + </p> + <p> + For one infinitesimal second, I was astonished at the deathly stillness of + everything. Then the roar of a thousand voices nearly deafened me, the + seat seemed to hurl me violently into the air, for another brief instant I + shot through space. Then my hands clutched some one's hair, and I crashed + to the ground, with an obliging stout man underneath. + </p> + <p> + And I knew that I still lived! + </p> + <p> + Well, the auto had dropped—that was all. Ready hands placed me upon + my feet. Vaguely I realized that Dr. Brotherton, our physician, was + running his fingers rapidly over my anatomy. + </p> + <p> + Later he addressed me through a dreamland haze and said that not a bone + was broken. I recall giving him a foolish smile and thanking him politely. + </p> + <p> + Some twenty feet away I was conscious that Hawkins was chattering volubly + to a crowd of eager faces. His own features were bruised almost beyond + recognition, but he, too, was evidently on this side of the River Jordan, + and I felt a faint sense of irritation that the Auto-aero-mobile hadn't + made an end of him. + </p> + <p> + My wits must have remained some time aloft for a last inspection of the + spot where ended our aerial flight. Certainly they did not wholly return + until I found myself sitting beside Hawkins in Brotherton's carriage. + </p> + <p> + We were just driving past a pile of red scrap-metal that had once been the + auto, and the wondering crowd was parting to let us through. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's the end of your aerothingamajig, Hawkins,” I observed, with + deep satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, experience is expensive, but a great teacher,” replied the + inventor, thickly, removing a wet cloth from his much lacerated upper lip + to permit speech. “When I build the next one——” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to get a divorce before you build the next one,” I added, + with still deeper satisfaction, as I pictured in imagination the lively + little domestic fracas that awaited Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + If his excellent lady gets wind of the doings in his “workshop,” Hawkins + rarely invents the same thing twice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if I build another,” corrected Hawkins, sobering suddenly, “I + shall be careful not to use that rear arrangement at all. I shall place + the valve of the balloon where I can get at it more easily. I shall——” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hawkins,” said Brotherton, abruptly, “I thought I asked you to keep + that cloth over your mouth until I get you where I can sew up that lip.” + </p> + <p> + Apart from any medical bearing, it struck me that that remark indicated + good, sound sense on Brotherton's part. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + There are some men to whom experience never teaches anything. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins is one of them; I am another. + </p> + <p> + As concerns Hawkins, I feel pretty sure that some obscure mental + aberration lies at the seat of his trouble; for my own part, I am inclined + to blame my confiding, unsuspicious nature. + </p> + <p> + Now, when the Hawkins' cook and the Hawkins' maid came “'cross lots” and + carried off our own domestic staff to some festivity, I should have been + able to see the hand of Fate groping around in my locality, clearing the + scene so as to leave me, alone and unprotected, with Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, when Mrs. Hawkins drove over in style with Patrick, to take my + wife to somebody's afternoon euchre, and brought me a message from her + “Herbert,” asking me to come and assist him in fighting off the demon of + loneliness, I should have realized that Fate was fairly clutching at me. + </p> + <p> + By this time I should be aware that when Hawkins is left alone he doesn't + bother with that sort of demon; he links arms with the old, original + Satan, and together they stroll into Hawkins' workshop—to perfect an + invention. + </p> + <p> + But I suspected nothing. I went over at once to keep Hawkins company. + </p> + <p> + When I reached his place, Hawkins didn't meet my eye at first, but + something else did. + </p> + <p> + For a moment, I fancied that the Weather Bureau had recognized Hawkins' + scientific attainments, and built an observatory for him out by the barn. + Then I saw that the thing was merely a tall, skeleton steel tower, with a + wind-mill on top—the contrivance with which many farmers pump water + from their wells. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” remarked Hawkins, appearing at this point, “can you name it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, leaning on the gate and regarding the affair, “I imagine + that it is the common or domestic windmill.” + </p> + <p> + “And your imagination, as usual, is all wrong,” smiled Hawkins. “That, + Griggs, is the Hawkins Pumpless Pump!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” I gasped, vaulting into the road. “Another invention!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't be a clown, Griggs,” snapped the inventor. “It is——” + </p> + <p> + “Wait. Did you lure me over here, Hawkins, with the fiendish purpose of + demonstrating that thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. It is——” + </p> + <p> + “Just one minute more. Is it tied down? Will it, by any chance, suddenly + gallop over here and fall upon us?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it will not,” replied Hawkins shortly. “The foundations run twenty + feet into the ground. Are you coming in or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Under the circumstances—yes,” I said, entering again, but keeping a + wary eye on the steel tower. “But can't we spend the afternoon out here by + the gate?” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot,” said Hawkins sourly. “Your humor, Griggs, is as pointless as + it is childish. When you see every farmer in the United States using that + contrivance, you will blush to recall your idiotic words.” + </p> + <p> + I was tempted to make some remark about the greater likelihood of memory + producing a consumptive pallor; but I refrained and followed Hawkins to + the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “When I built that tower,” pursued the inventor, waving his hand at it, “I + intended, of course, to use the regulation pump, taking the power from the + windmill. + </p> + <p> + “Then I got an idea. + </p> + <p> + “You know how a grain elevator works—a series of buckets on an + endless chain, running over two pulleys, just as a bicycle chain runs over + two sprockets? Very well. Up at the top of that tower I extended the hub + of the windmill back to form a shaft with big cogs. Down at the bottom of + the well there is another corresponding shaft with the same cogs. Over the + two, as you will see, runs an endless ladder of steel cable. Is that + clear?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so,” I said, wearily. “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's as far as I have gone. Next week the buckets are coming. I + shall hitch one to each rung of the chain, or ladder, throw on the gear, + and let her go. + </p> + <p> + “The buckets will run down into the well upside down, come up on the other + side filled, run to the top of the tower, and dump the water into a + reservoir tank—and go down again. Thus I pump water without a pump—in + other words, with a pumpless pump! + </p> + <p> + “Simple! Efficient! Nothing to get out of order—no valves, no + pistons, no air-chambers—nothing whatever!” finished Hawkins + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” I said absently. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it?” cried the inventor. “Now, do you want to look over it, to-day, + Griggs, or shall we run through those drawings of my new loom?” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins has invented a loom, too. I don't know much about machinery in + general, but I do know something about the plans, and from what I can + judge by the plans, if any workman was fool-hardy enough to enter the room + with Hawkins' loom in action, that intricate bit of mechanism would reach + out for him, drag him in, macerate him, and weave him into the cloth, all + in about thirty seconds. + </p> + <p> + But an explanation of this to Hawkins would merely have precipitated + another conflict. I chose what seemed to be the lesser evil; I elected to + examine the pumpless pump. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the inventor happily. “Come along, Griggs. You're the + only one that knows anything about this. In a week or two, when somebody + writes it up in the <i>Scientific American</i>, you'll feel mighty proud + of having heard my first explanation of the thing.” + </p> + <p> + The pump was just as Hawkins had described—a thin steel ladder + coming out of the well's black mouth, running up to and over the shaft, + and descending into the blackness again. When we reached its side, it was + stationary, for the air was still. + </p> + <p> + “There!” cried Hawkins. “All it needs is the buckets and the tank on top. + That idea comes pretty near to actual execution, Griggs, doesn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Most of your ideas do come pretty near to actual execution, Hawkins,” I + sighed. + </p> + <p> + That passed over Hawkins' head. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look down here,” he continued, leaning over the well with a calm + disregard of the frailty of the human make-up, and grasping one of the + rungs of the ladder. “Just look down here, Griggs. Sixty feet deep!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take your word for it,” I said. “I wouldn't hold on to that ladder, + Hawkins; it might take a notion to go down with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” smiled the inventor. “The gear's locked. It can't move. Why, + look here!” + </p> + <p> + The man actually swung himself out to the ladder and stood there. It made + my blood run cold. + </p> + <p> + I expected to see Hawkins, ladder, and all shoot down into the water, and + I wondered whether Heaven would send wind enough to hoist him out before + he drowned. + </p> + <p> + But nothing happened. Hawkins himself stood there and surveyed me with + sneering triumph. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Griggs,” he observed caustically, “once in a while I do know + something about my inventions. Now, if your faint heart will allow it, I + should advise you to take a peep down here. So far as I know, it's the + only well in the State built entirely of white tiles. Just steady yourself + on the ladder and look.” + </p> + <p> + Like a senseless boy taking a dare, I reached out, gripped the rung above + Hawkins, and looked down. + </p> + <p> + Certainly it was a fine well. I never paid much attention to wells, but I + could see at a glance that this one was exceptional. + </p> + <p> + “I had it tiled last week,” continued Hawkins. “A tiled well is absolutely + safe, you see. Nothing can happen in a tiled well, no——” + </p> + <p> + That was another of Hawkins' fallacies. Something happened right then and + there. + </p> + <p> + A gentle breeze started the windmill. Slowly, spectacularly, the ladder + began to move—downwards! + </p> + <p> + “Why, say!” cried the inventor, in amazement, as he made one futile effort + to regain the ground. “Do you think——” + </p> + <p> + I wasn't thinking for him, just then. All my wits were centered on one + great, awful problem. + </p> + <p> + Before I could realize it and release my hold, the ladder had dropped far + enough to throw me off my balance. The problem was whether to let go and + risk dashing down sixty feet, or to keep hold and run the very promising + chance of a slow and chilly ducking. + </p> + <p> + I took the latter alternative, threw myself upon the ladder, and clung + there, gasping with astonishment at the suddenness of the thing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Hawkins?” I said, getting breath as my head sank below the level of + the beautiful earth. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Griggs,” said the inventor defiantly, from the second rung below, + “the gear must have slipped—that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it lucky that this is a tiled well?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” I said, “a tiled well is absolutely safe, you see. Nothing can + happen in a tiled well, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't stand there grinding out your cheap wit, Griggs,” snapped + Hawkins. “How the dickens are we going to escape being soaked?” + </p> + <p> + Down, down, down, down, went the ladder. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, thoughtfully, “the bottom usually falls out of your + schemes, Hawkins. If the bottom will only fall out of the water department + of your pumpless pump within the next half-minute, all will be lovely.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dry up!” exclaimed the inventor nervously. “Goodness! We're halfway + down already!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not climb?” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Griggs,” cried the inventor, “for such an unpractical man as + yourself, that idea is remarkable! Climb, Griggs, climb. Get about it!” + </p> + <p> + I think myself that the notion was rather bright. If the ladder was + climbing down into the well, we could climb up the ladder. + </p> + <p> + And we climbed! Good heavens, how we did climb! It was simply a + perpendicular treadmill, and with the rungs a full yard apart, a mighty + hard one to tread. + </p> + <p> + Every rung seemed to strain my muscles to the breaking point; but we kept + on climbing, and we were gaining on the ladder. We were not ten feet from + the top when Hawkins called out: + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Griggs! Hey! Wait a minute! Yes, by Jove, she's stopped!” + </p> + <p> + She had. I noted that, far above, the windmill had ceased to revolve. The + ladder was motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I knew we'd get out all right,” remarked the inventor, dashing all + perspiration from his brow. “I felt it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I noticed that you were entirely confident a minute or two ago,” I + observed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on now and climb out,” said Hawkins, waving an answer to the + observation. “Go ahead, Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + I was too thankful for our near deliverance to spend my breath on + vituperation. I reached toward the rung above me and prepared to pull + myself back to earth. + </p> + <p> + And then a strange thing happened. The rung shot upward. I shot after it. + One instant I was in the twilight of the well; the next instant I was + blinded by the sun. + </p> + <p> + Too late I realized that I had ascended above the mouth, and was + journeying rapidly toward the top of the tower. It had all happened with + that sickening, surprising suddenness that characterizes Hawkins' + inventions. + </p> + <p> + Up, up, up, I went, at first quickly, and then more slowly, and still more + slowly, until the ladder stopped again, with my eyes peering over the top + of the tower. + </p> + <p> + It was obliging of the ladder to stop there; it could have hurled me over + the top just as easily and broken my neck. + </p> + <p> + I didn't waste any time in thanking the ladder. Before the accursed thing + could get into motion again, I climbed to the shaft and perched there, + dizzy and bewildered. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins followed suit, clambered to the opposite end of the shaft, and + arranged himself there, astride. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I remarked, when I had found a comparatively secure seat on the + bearing—a seat fully two inches wide by four long—“did the + gear slip again?” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not,” said the inventor. “The windmill simply started + turning in the opposite direction.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a weak, powerless little thing, your windmill, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I built it I calculated it to hoist two tons.” + </p> + <p> + “Instead of which it has hoisted two—or rather, one misguided man, + who allowed himself to be enticed within its reach.” + </p> + <p> + “See here,” cried Hawkins wrathfully, “I suppose you blame me for getting + you into a hole?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” I replied. “I blame you for getting me altogether too far + out of the hole.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you needn't. If it hadn't been for your stupidity, we shouldn't be + here now.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Why didn't you jump off as we passed the mouth of the well?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hawkins,” I said mildly, “do you realize that we flitted past + that particular point at a speed of about seventy feet per second? Why + didn't you jump?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I didn't want to desert you, Griggs,” rejoined Hawkins + weakly, looking away. + </p> + <p> + “That was truly noble of you,” I observed. “It reveals a beautiful side of + your character which I had never suspected, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “That'll do,” said the inventor shortly. “Are you going down first or + shall I?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you propose to trust all that is mortal of yourself to that capricious + little ladder again?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. What else?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking that it might be safer, if slightly less comfortable, to + wait here until Patrick gets back. He could put up a ladder—a real, + old-fashioned, wooden ladder—for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and when Patrick gets back those women will get back with him,” + replied Hawkins heatedly. “Your wife's coming over here to tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you suppose I'm going to be found stuck up here like a + confounded rooster on a weather vane?” shouted the inventor. “No, sir! You + can stay and look all the fool you like. I won't. I'm going down now!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins reached gingerly with one foot for a place on the ladder. I looked + at him, wondered whether it would be really wicked to hurl him into space, + and looked away again, in the direction of the woods. + </p> + <p> + My gaze traveled about a mile; and my nerves received another shock. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Hawkins!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want?” demanded the inventor gruffly, still striving + for a footing. + </p> + <p> + “What will happen if a breeze hits this infernal machine now?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be knocked into Kingdom Come, for one thing,” snapped Hawkins with + apparent satisfaction. “That arm of the windmill right behind you will rap + your head with force enough to put some sense in it.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced backward. He was right—about the fact of the rapping, at + any rate. + </p> + <p> + The huge wing was precisely in line to deal my unoffending cranium a + terrific whack, which would probably stun me, and certainly brush me from + my perch. + </p> + <p> + “There's a big wind coming!” I cried. “Look at those trees.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jimminy! You're right!” gasped the inventor, recklessly hurling + himself upon the ladder. “Quick, Griggs. Come down after me. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + When one of Hawkins' inventions gets you in its toils, you have to make + rapid decisions as to the manner of death you would prefer. In the + twinkling of an eye, I decided to cast my fate with Hawkins on the ladder. + </p> + <p> + Nerving myself for the task, I swung to the quivering steel cable, kicked + wildly for a moment, and then found a footing. + </p> + <p> + “Now, down!” shouted Hawkins, below me. “Be quick!” + </p> + <p> + That diabolical windmill must have heard him and taken the remark for a + personal injunction. It obeyed to the letter. + </p> + <p> + When an elevator drops suddenly, you feel as if your entire internal + organism was struggling for exit through the top of your head. As the + words left Hawkins' mouth, that was precisely the sensation I experienced. + </p> + <p> + Clinging to the ladder for dear life, down we went! + </p> + <p> + They say that a stone will drop sixteen feet in the first second, + thirty-two in the next, and so on. We made far better time than that. The + wind had hit the windmill, and she was reeling us back into the well to + the very best of her ability. + </p> + <p> + Before I could draw breath we flashed to the level of the earth, down + through the mouth of the well, and on down into the white-tiled twilight. + </p> + <p> + My observations ceased at that point. A gurgling shriek came from Hawkins. + Then a splash. + </p> + <p> + My nether limbs turned icy cold, next my body and shoulders, and then + cracked ice seemed to fill my ears, and I still clung to the ladder, and + prayed fervently. + </p> + <p> + For a time I descended through roaring, swirling water. Then my feet were + wrenched from their hold, and for a moment I hung downward by my hands + alone. Still I clung tightly, and wondered dimly why I seemed to be going + up again. Not that it mattered much, for I had given up hope long ago, but + still I wondered. + </p> + <p> + And then, still clutching the ladder with a death-grip, with Hawkins + kicking about above me, out of the water I shot, and up the well once + more. An instant of the half-light, the flash of the sun again—and I + hurled myself away from the ladder. + </p> + <p> + I landed on the grass. Hawkins landed on me. Soaking wet, breathless, + dazed, we sat up and stared at each other. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad, Griggs,” said Hawkins, with a watery smile—“I'm glad you + had sense enough to keep your grip going around that sprocket at the + bottom. I knew we'd be all right if you didn't let go——” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said viciously, “shut up!” + </p> + <p> + “But—oh, good Lord!” + </p> + <p> + I glanced toward the gate. The carriage was driving in. The ladies were in + the carriage. Evidently the afternoon euchre had been postponed. + </p> + <p> + “There, Hawkins,” I gloated, “you can explain to your wife just why you + knew we'd be all right. She'll be a sympathetic listener.” + </p> + <p> + Said Hawkins, with a sickly smile: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Griggs!” + </p> + <p> + Said Mrs. Hawkins, gasping with horror as Patrick whipped the horses to + our side——. + </p> + <p> + But never mind what Mrs. Hawkins said. This chronicle contains enough + unpleasantness as it is. There are remarks which, when addressed to one, + one feels were better left unsaid. + </p> + <p> + I think that Hawkins felt that way about practically everything his wife + said upon this occasion. Let that suffice. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + In the country, social intercourse between Hawkins' family and my own is + upon the most informal basis. If it pleases us to dine together coatless + and cuffless, we do so; and no one suggests that a national upheaval is + likely to result. + </p> + <p> + But in town it is different. The bugaboo of strict propriety seems to take + mysterious ascendancy. We still dine together, but it is done in the most + proper evening dress. It seems to be the law—unwritten but + unalterable—that Hawkins and I shall display upon our respective + bosoms something like a square foot of starchy white linen. + </p> + <p> + I hardly know why I mention this matter of evening clothes, unless it is + that the memory of my brand-new dress suit, which passed to another sphere + that night, still preys upon my mind. + </p> + <p> + That night, above mentioned, my wife and I dined in the Hawkins' home. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins seemed particularly jovial. He appeared to be chuckling with + triumph, or some kindred emotion, and his air was even more expansive than + usual. + </p> + <p> + When I mentioned the terrible explosion of the powder works at Pompton—hardly + a subject to excite mirth in the normal individual—Hawkins fairly + guffawed. + </p> + <p> + “But, Herbert,” cried his wife, somewhat horrified, “is there anything + humorous in the dismemberment of three poor workmen?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn't that—it isn't that, my dear,” smiled the inventor. “It + merely struck me as funny—this old notion of explosives.” + </p> + <p> + “What old notion?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the fallacy of the present methods of manipulating nitro-glycerine.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume you have a better scheme?” I advanced. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Griggs,” cried Hawkins' wife, in terror that was not all feigned, + “don't suggest it!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear——” began Hawkins, stiffening at once. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Herbert, hush! You've made mischief enough with your inventions, + but you have never, thank goodness, dabbled in explosives.” + </p> + <p> + “If I wanted to tell you what I know about explosives, and what I could do——” + declaimed Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell us, Mr. Hawkins,” laughed my wife. “A sort of superstitious + dread comes over me at the notion.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Griggs!” exclaimed Hawkins, eying my wife with a glare which in any + other man would have earned him the best licking I could give him—but + which, like many other things, had to be excused in Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Herbert!” said his wife, authoritatively. “Be still. Actually, you're + quite excited!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins lapsed into sulky silence, and the meal ended with just a hint of + constraint. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins and my wife adjourned to the drawing-room, and Hawkins and I + were left, theoretically, to smoke a post-prandial cigar. Hawkins, + however, had other plans for my entertainment. + </p> + <p> + “Are they up-stairs?” he muttered, as footsteps sounded above us. + </p> + <p> + “They seem to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you come with me,” whispered Hawkins, heading me toward the + servants' staircase. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” I inquired suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + There was a peculiar glitter in his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Come along and you'll see,” chuckled Hawkins, beginning the ascent. “Oh, + I'll tell you what,” he continued, pausing on the second landing, “these + women make me tired!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they do. You needn't look huffy, Griggs. It isn't your wife or my + wife. It's the whole sex. They chatter and prattle and make silly jokes + about things they're absolutely incapable of understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hawkins,” I said soothingly, “you wrong the fair sex.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wrong 'em, eh? Well, what woman knows the first thing about + explosives?” demanded Hawkins heatedly. “Dynamite or rhexite or meganite + or carbonite or stonite or vigorite or cordite or ballistite or thorite or + maxamite——” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Hawkins, stop!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all, anyway,” said the inventor. “But what woman knows + enough about them to argue the thing intelligently? And yet my wife tells + me—I, who have spent nearly half a lifetime in scientific labor—she + actually tells me to—to shut up, when I hint at having some slight + knowledge of the subject!” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Hawkins, but your scientific labors have made her—and me—suffer + in the past.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they have, have they?” grunted Hawkins, climbing toward the top + floor. “Well, come up, Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + I knew the door at which he stopped. It was that of Hawkins' workshop or + laboratory. It was on the floor with the servants, who, poor things, + probably did not know or dared not object to the risk they ran. + </p> + <p> + “What's the peculiar humming?” I asked, pausing on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Only my electric motor,” sneered Hawkins. “It won't bite you, Griggs. + Come in.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is this big, brass bolt on the door?” I continued. + </p> + <p> + “That? Oh, that's an idea!” cried the inventor. “That's my new springlock. + Just look at that lock, Griggs. It simply can't be opened from the + outside, and only from the inside by one who knows how to work it. And I'm + the only one who knows. When I patent this thing——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn't close the door, Hawkins,” I murmured. “You might faint + or something, and I'd be shut in here till somebody remembered to hunt for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” exclaimed Hawkins, slamming the door, violently. “Really, for a + grown man, you're the most chicken-hearted individual I ever met. But—what's + the use of talking about it? To get back to explosives——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind the explosives,” I said wearily. “You're right, and that + settles it.” + </p> + <p> + “See here,” said Hawkins sharply; “I had no intention of mentioning + explosives to-night, for a particular reason. In a day or two, you'll hear + the country ringing with my name, in connection with explosives. But since + the subject has come up, if you want to listen to me for a few minutes, + I'll interest you mightily.” + </p> + <p> + Kind Heaven! Could I have realized then the bitter truth of those last + words! + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” the inventor went on, “as I was saying—or was I saying + it?—they all have their faults—dynamite, rhexite, meganite, + carbonite, ston——” + </p> + <p> + “You went over that list before.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they all have their faults. Either they explode when you don't want + them to, or they don't explode when you do want them to, or they're liable + to explode spontaneously, or something else. It's all due, as I have + invariably contended, to impure nitro-glycerine or unscientific handling + of the pure article.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. Now, what would you say to an explosive——” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely nothing,” I replied decidedly. “I should pass it without even + a nod.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind your nonsense, Griggs. What would you—er—what + would you think of an explosive that could be dropped from the roof of a + house without detonating?” + </p> + <p> + “Remarkable!” + </p> + <p> + “An explosive,” continued Hawkins impressively, “into which a man might + throw a lighted lamp without the slightest fear! How would that strike + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Hawkins,” I said, “I think I should have grave doubts of the man's + mental condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just cut out that foolish talk,” snapped the inventor. “I'm quite + serious. Suppose I should tell you that I had thought and thought over + this problem, and finally hit upon an idea for just such a powder? Where + would dynamite and rhexite and meganite and all the rest of them be, + beside——” + </p> + <p> + He paused theatrically. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkinsite!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know, Hawkins,” I said, unable to absorb any of his enthusiasm. + “But let us thank goodness that it is only an idea as yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it isn't!” cried the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins!” I gasped, springing to my feet. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean just this: Do you see that little vat in the corner?” + </p> + <p> + I stared fearfully in the direction indicated. A little vat, indeed, I + saw. It stood there, half-filled with a sticky mess, through which an + agitator, run by the electric motor, was revolving slowly. + </p> + <p> + “That's Hawkinsite, in the process of manufacture!” the inventor + announced. + </p> + <p> + A sickly terror crept over me. I made instinctively for the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come back,” said Hawkins. “You can't get out, anyway, until I undo + the lock. But there's no danger whatever, my dear boy. Just sit down and + I'll explain why.” + </p> + <p> + I had no choice about sitting down; a most peculiar weakness of the knees + made standing for the moment impossible. I drew my chair to the diagonally + opposite corner of the apartment, and sat there with my eyes glued upon + the vat. + </p> + <p> + “Now, when all these fellows go about nitrating their glycerine,” said + Hawkins serenely, “they simply overlook the scientific principle which I + have discovered. For instance, out there at Pompton the vat exploded in + the very act of mixing in the glycerine. That's just what is being done + over in that corner at this minute——” + </p> + <p> + “Ouch!” I cried involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “But it won't happen here—it can't happen here,” said the inventor + impatiently. “I am using an entirely different combination of chemicals. + Now, if there was any trouble of that sort coming, Griggs, the contents of + that vat would have begun to turn green before now. But as you see——” + </p> + <p> + “Haw—Hawkins!” I croaked hoarsely, pointing a shaking finger at the + machine. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” I managed to articulate. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord!” sniffed the inventor. “I suppose as soon as I said that, you + began to see green shades appear, eh? Why—dear me!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins stepped rapidly over to the side of his mixer. Then he stepped + away with considerably greater alacrity. + </p> + <p> + There was no two ways about it; the devilish mess in the vat was taking on + a marked tinge of green! + </p> + <p> + “Well—I—I guess I'll shut off the power,” muttered Hawkins, + suiting the action to the word. + </p> + <p> + “When the agitator has stopped, Griggs, the mass will cool at once, so you + needn't worry.” + </p> + <p> + “If it didn't cool, would it—would it blow up?” I quavered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it would,” admitted Hawkins, rather nervously. “But as soon as the + mixing ceases, the slight color disappears, as you see.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see it; it seems to me to be getting greener than ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's not!” the inventor snapped. “Five minutes from now, that stuff + will be an even brown once more.” + </p> + <p> + “And while it's regaining the even brown, why not clear out of here?” I + said eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we may as well, I suppose,” said Hawkins, with a readiness which + refused to be masked under his assumption of reluctance. “Come on, + Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins turned the lever on his fancy lock, remarking again: + </p> + <p> + “Come on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, open the door.” + </p> + <p> + “It's op—why, what's wrong here?” muttered the inventor, twisting + the lever back and forth several times. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good heavens, Hawkins!” I groaned. “Has your lock gone back on you, + too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it has not. Of course not,” growled the inventor, tugging at his + lever with almost frantic energy. “It's stuck—a little new—that's + all. Er—do you see a screw-driver on that table, Griggs?” + </p> + <p> + I handed him the tool as quickly as possible, noting at the same time that + despite the cessation of the stirring “Hawkinsite” was getting greener + every second. + </p> + <p> + “I'll just take it off,” panted Hawkins, digging at one of the screws. “No + time to tinker with it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? There's no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly there isn't. But you—you seem to be a little nervous + about it, Griggs, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I cried, “what are those bubbles of red gas?” + </p> + <p> + “What bubbles?” Hawkins turned as if he had been shot. “Great Scott, + Griggs! There were no bubbles of red gas rising out of that stuff, were + there?” + </p> + <p> + “There they go again,” I said, pointing to the vat, from which a new + ebullition of scarlet vapor had just risen. “What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Mean?” shrieked Hawkins, turning white and trembling in every limb. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mean!” I repeated, shaking him. “Does it mean that——” + </p> + <p> + “It means that the cursed stuff has over-heated itself, after all. Lord! + Lord! However did it happen? Something must have been impure. Something——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind something. What will it do?” + </p> + <p> + “It—it—oh, my God, Griggs! It'll blow this house into ten + thousand pieces within two minutes! Why—why, there's power enough in + that little vat to demolish the Brooklyn Bridge, according to my + calculations. There's enough explosive force in that much Hawkinsite to + wreck every office building down-town!” + </p> + <p> + “And we're shut in here with it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Yes! But let us——” + </p> + <p> + “Here! Suppose I turn the water into the thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” shouted the inventor wildly, battering at the door with his + fists. “It would send us into kingdom come the second it touched! Don't + stand there gaping, Griggs! Help me smash down this door! We must get out, + man! We must get the women out! We must warn the neighborhood! Smash her, + Griggs! Smash her! Smash the door!” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said, resignedly, as a vicious “sizzzz” announced the + evolution of a great puff of red gas, “we can never do it in two minutes. + Better not attract the rest of the household by your racket. They may + possibly escape. Stop!” + </p> + <p> + “And stay here and be blown to blazes?” cried Hawkins. “No, sir! Down she + goes!” + </p> + <p> + He seized a stool and dealt a crashing blow upon the panel. It splintered. + He raised the stool again, and I could hear footsteps hurrying from below. + I opened my mouth to shout a warning, and—— + </p> + <p> + Well, I don't know that I can describe my sensations with any accuracy, + vivid as they were at the time. + </p> + <p> + Some resistless force lifted me from the floor and propelled me toward the + half shattered door. Dimly I noted that the same thing had happened to + Hawkins. For the tiniest fraction of a second he seemed to be floating + horizontally in the air. Then I felt my head collide with wood; the door + parted, and I shot through the opening. + </p> + <p> + I saw the hallway before me; I remember observing with vague wonder that + the gas-light went out just as it caught my eye. And then an awful flash + blinded me, a roar of ten thousand cannon seemed to split my skull—and + that was all. + </p> + <p> + My eyes opened in the Hawkins' drawing-room—or what remained of it. + Our family physician was diligently winding a bandage around my right + ankle. An important-looking youth in the uniform of an ambulance surgeon + was stitching up a portion of my left forearm with cheerful nonchalance. + </p> + <p> + My brand new dress suit, I observed, had lost all semblance to an article + of clothing; they had covered me, as I lay upon the couch, with a torn + portiere. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “<i>I saw the figure of a policeman standing tiptoe upon a + satin chair</i>."} + </p> + <p> + The apartment was strangely dark. Here and there stood a lantern, such as + are used by the fire department. In the dim light, I saw the figure of a + policeman standing tiptoe upon a satin chair, plugging with soap the + broken gaspipe which had once supported the Hawkins' chandelier. + </p> + <p> + The ceiling was all down. The walls were bare to the lath in huge patches. + The windows had disappeared, and a chill autumn night wind swept through + the room. + </p> + <p> + Bric-a-brac there was none, although here and there, in the mass of + plaster on the floor, gleamed bits of glass and china which might once + have been parts of ornaments. Hawkinsite had evidently not been quite as + powerful as its inventor had imagined, but it had certainly contained + force enough to blow about ten thousand dollars out of Hawkins' bank + account. + </p> + <p> + From the street came the hoarse murmur of a crowd. I twisted my head and + my eyes fell upon two firemen in the hallway. They were dragging down a + line of hose from somewhere up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + Across the room sat my wife and Mrs. Hawkins, disheveled, but alive and + apparently unharmed. Hawkins himself leaned wearily back upon a divan, a + huge bandage sewed about his forehead, one arm in a sling, and a police + sergeant at his side, notebook in hand. + </p> + <p> + I felt a fiendish exultation at the sight of that official; for one fond + moment I hoped that Hawkins was under arrest, that he was in for a life + sentence. + </p> + <p> + “He's conscious, doctor,” said the ambulance surgeon. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, so he is,” said my own medical man, as the ladies rushed to my side. + “Now, Mr. Griggs, do you feel any pain in the——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Griggs!” cried Hawkins, staggering toward me. “Have you come back to + life? Say, Griggs, just think of it! My workshop's blown to smithereens! + Every single note I ever made has been destroyed! Isn't it aw——” + </p> + <p> + In joyful chorus, my wife, Mrs. Hawkins and I said: + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “But think of it! My notes! The careful record of half a——” + </p> + <p> + “Herbert!” said his—considerably—better half. “That—will—do!” + </p> + <p> + “It—oh, well,” groaned the inventor disconsolately, limping back to + the divan and the somewhat astonished sergeant of police. Hawkins must + have had some sort of influence with the press. Beyond a bare mention of + the explosion, the matter never found its way into the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + After I got around again I tried in vain to spread the tale broadcast. I + had some notion that the notoriety might cure Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, I don't know that it would have done much good. I cannot + think that a man whose inventive genius will survive an explosion of + Hawkinsite is likely to be greatly worried by mere newspaper notoriety. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + The name and the precise location of the hotel are immaterial. If you + happened to be there that night you know very nearly all that occurred; if + not, you have in all probability never heard of it, for I understand that + the proprietors took every precaution against publicity. + </p> + <p> + Let it suffice, then, that the hotel is a prominent and a fashionable one, + located somewhere between the Battery and the Bronx, and that Hawkins and + I sat at a table in the restaurant on that particular evening and feasted. + </p> + <p> + The inventor had called at my office and dragged me away to dine with him, + rather to my surprise, for I believed him to be somewhere in the South + with his wife. + </p> + <p> + You see, after a certain explosion in their home, a month or two of + reconstruction had been necessary; and I opine that Mrs. Hawkins had + thought best to remove her husband while the repairs were being made. If + he had been there it is dollars to doughnuts he would have invented a new + bricklayer or a novel plastering machine and wrecked the whole place anew. + </p> + <p> + It was in reply to my query as to his presence in New York that Hawkins + said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know, Griggs, it impressed me as very foolish from the first—that + idea of my wife's of getting out of town while the place was being + rebuilt.” + </p> + <p> + “She may have had her reasons, Hawkins,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly, although I fail to see what they were. When a man's own home is + being built—or rebuilt—his place is on the spot, to see that + everything is done right. Now, how, for instance, could I, away down in + Georgia, know that those workmen were properly fitting up my new + workshop?” + </p> + <p> + “Workshop?” I gasped. “Are you having another one built?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” snapped Hawkins. “I didn't mention it to Mrs. Hawkins, for + she seems foolishly set against my continuing my scientific labors. But I + fixed it on the sly with the architect. It's all finished now—has + been for a week and over—power and everything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said, sadly, “are you going right on with your + experimenting?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am,” replied the inventor, rather warmly. “It's altogether + beyond your poor little brain, Griggs, but scientific work is the very + breath of my life! I can't be happy without it; I'm not going to try. Why, + all those seven weeks down South one idea simply roared in my head. I had + to come home and perfect it—and I did. I've been in New York nearly + three weeks, working on it,” concluded Hawkins, complacently. + </p> + <p> + “And you've managed to perfect another accursed——” I began. + </p> + <p> + Just then I ceased speaking and watched Hawkins. His ears had pricked up + like a horse's. I, too, listened and heard what seemed to be a heavy + automobile outdoors; at any rate, it was the characteristic + chugg-chugg-chugg of a touring car, and nowadays a commonplace sound + enough. + </p> + <p> + But it affected Hawkins deeply. An ecstatic smile overspread his face, and + he drew in his breath with a long, happy: + </p> + <p> + “A-a-a-a-a-ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Been buying a new auto, Hawkins?” I asked, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Auto be hanged!” replied the inventor, energetically. “Do you imagine + that an automobile is making that noise? I guess not! That's my new + invention, Griggs!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” I cried. “Here? In this hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “Right here in this hotel—right under our feet,” said Hawkins, + proudly. “That noise comes from the Hawkins Gasowashine!” + </p> + <p> + I think I stared open-mouthed at Hawkins for a moment or two; I know that + I leaned back and shook with as violent mirth as might be permitted in so + solemnly proper a resort. + </p> + <p> + “Well, does that impress you as particularly humorous?” demanded Hawkins, + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said, “why don't you start in and write nonsense verse? + There's a fortune waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I must say, Griggs,” rejoined the inventor, sourly, “that you have very + little comprehension of the advertising value of a good name. Who under + the sun would ever remember the 'Hawkins Gasolene Washing Machine,' if + they saw it in a magazine? But—'The Gasowashine'!” + </p> + <p> + “So it's a washing machine?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. It's the one perfect contrivance for washing and drying + dishes; and let me tell you the basic principle of that machine breathes + genius, if I do say it. Why, Griggs, just think! You can pile in three or + four hundred dishes, simply start the motor, and then sit down while the + clean, dry dishes are piled neatly on the table.” + </p> + <p> + “And they're really using it here? It—it works?” I asked, + wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they're going to use it,” said Hawkins, rising. “I have consented + to allow them to try my model. It arrived here just before we did.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins, have we been sitting right over that thing all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't try to be comic, Griggs,” said the inventor, bruskly. “I'm going + down to see who's fooling with that motor. It should not have been + touched, although I must say it's a satisfaction to sit in a first-class + place like this and hear my own machinery running. Are you coming?” + </p> + <p> + I will admit that I was curious about the contrivance. I followed Hawkins + through the crowded dining-room to a door in the back. + </p> + <p> + Then, dodging a dozen hurrying waiters, we made our way down an incline + into the kitchen and through that apartment, past steam tables and ranges + and pots and kettles and other paraphernalia of the cuisine. + </p> + <p> + At the farther end of the room stood a massive affair of oak. It looked, + as nearly as it resembled any other thing on earth, like a piano box; but + on each side, near the top, was a huge fly-wheel, the two being apparently + fastened to the ends of an axle. + </p> + <p> + For the rest of the mechanism, it was all concealed. I rightly surmised + the monstrosity to be the Gasowashine. + </p> + <p> + The fly-wheels were revolving slowly, and this seemed to irritate Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Mr. Macdougal,” he said to a puzzled looking gentleman, who + stood eying the affair. “Mr. Griggs, Mr. Macdougal, the manager. So some + one started it, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “One of the 'buses happened to touch it, and it started itself,” replied + the manager, gazing on the contrivance. “It's quite safe to have about, is + it not, Mr. Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + “Safe? Certainly it is safe.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to say, it won't injure the dishes?” the gentleman continued, with + a doubtful smile. “You see, we have filled the main compartment with hot + water, as you directed, and put in three hundred pieces of our best + crockery.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Macdougal,” said Hawkins icily, “if one dish is broken, I'll pay for + it and make you a present of the machine, if you say so. If you do not + wish to make the test, doubtless there are other hotel men in New York who + will appreciate its advantages.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, not at all,” cried the manager. “I appreciate fully——” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Hawkins shortly. “Now, the dishes are all in, are they? + Very well. I'll explain the thing to Mr. Griggs and then start it. You + see, Griggs, the dishes are in here.” + </p> + <p> + He tapped the side of the big box. + </p> + <p> + “When I turn on the power, they are thoroughly rubbed and soused by my + Automatic Scrubber—a separate patent, by the way—and then they + reach this spot.” + </p> + <p> + He rapped upon the box near the end. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are forced against a continuous dish-towel, which runs across + rollers all the time. Just think of it! Sixty yards of dish-towel, rolling + over and over and over! After that—but you shall see how they look + after that. I'll start her.” + </p> + <p> + He twisted a valve of some sort. The chugg-chugging became more + pronounced, and the fly-wheels revolved with very perceptibly increased + rapidity. + </p> + <p> + From somewhere inside the thing emanated a gentle rattle and swish of + crockery and suds. Hawkins stood back and regarded it proudly. + </p> + <p> + “There's another great point about the Gasowashine, too,” he said. “As you + see, it's too heavy to shove from place to place. What do we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it where it is,” I hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. We simply invert it! The whole business is water-tight. Every + door fits so closely that it's impossible for a drop to escape. Now, if I + wished to move it to the other end of this room, I should simply turn the + Gasowashine upside down, allow it to rest upon the fly-wheels, which keep + on revolving of course, and steer it wherever I desired.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you might go a little better and put on a saddle and a + steering-wheel and take a ride around the Park while you were washing + dishes?” I suggested, somewhat to the manager's amusement. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly you think it's impracticable?” Hawkins rapped out. “Perhaps you + don't realize that there's a five horsepower motor running that?” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Hawkins,” I said soothingly, “if you say that Washy-washine + is good for a trans-kitchen on a transcontinental tour, I'll take your + word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't have to!” cried the inventor wrathfully. “I'll demonstrate it. + See here, you!” + </p> + <p> + This to a corpulent French gentleman in white, who had just flipped an + omelette to a platter and sent it upon its way. “Come and give me a hand + here. Just help turn this thing over.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Comme cela?</i>” inquired the astonished cook, making pantomime with + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. That's right. Catch hold of the other side and don't let go + until I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The cook complied. Really, the Gasowashine seemed to turn more easily than + might have been expected from its huge bulk. + </p> + <p> + A strain or two, a puffed command from Hawkins, an ominous sliding about + of hidden dishes, and the machine lurched forward, poised a moment on its + edge and turned quite gently, so that the wheels approached the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Now, easy! Easy!” cried Hawkins. “Don't let the wheels down until I tell + you, and don't let go till I give the word. Now down! Down! Gently.” + </p> + <p> + The cook seemed to be feeling for a new grip. + </p> + <p> + “Here! What are you doing?” cried the inventor. “Don't touch any of those + handles.” + </p> + <p> + “It is that I seek a place for ze hand,” murmured the cook apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “Well, find it and let her down. Got your grip?” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! I have eet!” announced the Frenchman, clutching one of the brass + knobs. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Down!” + </p> + <p> + Down went the Gasowashine. And a very small fraction of one second later + things began to happen. + </p> + <p> + Each of Hawkins' inventions possesses a latent devil. You have only to + brush against the handle or the valve or the string, or whatever it may be + that connects him with the outer world, and the demon awakes. + </p> + <p> + In this case, the cook must have pinched the tail of the devil of the + Gasowashine, for he sprang into action with a rush. + </p> + <p> + “Is it to release the hold?” asked the Frenchman as the wheels touched the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “No, not till I—hey!” cried Hawkins, starting back in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Our—our dishes!” ejaculated the manager breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + The Gasowashine and the cook were traveling across the kitchen together. + The Frenchman, with remarkable presence of mind, was behind the machine + and dragging back with all his might; but as well could he have hauled to + a standstill the locomotive of the Empire State Express. + </p> + <p> + The Gasowashine, puffing heavily as any racing auto, had plans of its own + and was executing them to the accompaniment of a simply appalling rattle + of crockery. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let go! Don't let go!” cried Hawkins. “Keep hold, my man!” + </p> + <p> + “I do! I do! <i>Mais, mon Dieu!</i>” called the Frenchman jerkily. + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Hawkins,” gasped the manager as we hurried after, “what will + become of our china?” + </p> + <p> + “The devil take your china!” snapped Hawkins, forgetful of his recent + guarantee. “If they run into the wall, it'll break the motor!” + </p> + <p> + They were not going to run into the wall. The Gasowashine approached the + side of the apartment, swerved easily to the left, and made for the + incline which led to the hotel dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” screamed the manager. “Not up there! Knock that thing + over on its side, Henri!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you do it, Henri,” cried Hawkins. “If you do it'll smash.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it smash!” roared the manager. “Throw it over, Henri!” + </p> + <p> + “But I cannot,” gasped the Frenchman as the Gasowashine sets its wheels + upon the incline. + </p> + <p> + “Here! Somebody get in front of that thing!” commanded Macdougal. “Don't + let it go up. Knock it over!” + </p> + <p> + “If you knock that over!” stormed Hawkins, springing to the side of his + contrivance and feeling excitedly for the valve which should shut off the + supply of gasolene. + </p> + <p> + Two or three waiters, having in mind that their jobs depended upon + Macdougal's approbation rather than Hawkins' strove to obey the former's + injunction. They ran to the fore end of the Gasowashine and seized it and + pushed back upon it and sideways. + </p> + <p> + And did the Gasowashine mind? Hardly. + </p> + <p> + It bowled the first man over so neatly that he fell squarely beneath one + of his fellows, who was descending loaded with dishes. It rolled one of + its wheels across the toes of the next antagonist, and drew from him a + shriek which sent people in the dining-room to their feet. + </p> + <p> + After that <i>coup</i>, the Gasowashine had things all its own way on the + incline. + </p> + <p> + The French cook still maintained his hold. Hawkins pranced alongside and + fumbled feverishly, first with that knob, then with this little wheel. + </p> + <p> + Several of them he managed to move, but to no good end. Whether excitement + had confused Hawkins' mind on the details of his invention I cannot say; + but certainly, far from controlling the Gasowashine, he made matters + worse. + </p> + <p> + The machine puffed harder, the wheels revolved more rapidly, and the whole + affair climbed steadily toward the dining-room, dragging the tenacious + cook along the incline in a sitting posture. + </p> + <p> + Thus was made the first public appearance of the Gasowashine, to the utter + amazement of some hundred diners. + </p> + <p> + Bursting through the doors, it snorted for a moment, and seemed to be + considering the long rows of tables before it. Several waiters, gasping + with astonishment at the uncouth apparition, ran to check its progress. + </p> + <p> + That seemed to stir the Gasowashine anew. It emitted a sharp puff of rage + and plunged headlong forward. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins pranced along by its side, half turning as he ran to cry: + </p> + <p> + “Now, just—just make way, ladies and gentlemen, please. It's not at + all dangerous. Just make way.” + </p> + <p> + They made way, without losing any undue amount of time. + </p> + <p> + One or two women fainted unostentatiously. + </p> + <p> + Most of them, men and women, scrambled away from the main aisle, which + seemed to have been selected by the Gasowashine for its further + performances. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I panted when I had managed to regain breath, “why don't you + knock the cursed thing over?” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, there, Griggs,” sizzled Hawkins, dashing the perspiration + from his eyes. “I've almost control of it now. I'll just shut off this——” + </p> + <p> + He gave a powerful twist at one of the handles. + </p> + <p> + “That'll——” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Pouff!” roared the Gasowashine, rearing up and lunging wildly from side + to side for a moment. + </p> + <p> + Then it started down the aisle in earnest. Bang! Bang! Bang! echoed from + the crockery inside. Puff! Puff! Puff! said the motor, driving its + hardest. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “<i>I shall let go? Yes?</i>”} + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ciel!</i>” wailed the cook “I shall let it go? Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” shouted Hawkins, running beside the unhappy man. “In just a second + it'll——” + </p> + <p> + It did, although not perhaps what Hawkins expected. + </p> + <p> + I saw a little door in the side of the infernal machine flip open. I + perceived a shower of finely subdivided crockery hanging over the cook for + a moment. + </p> + <p> + Then the bits of china and some two or three gallons of greasy water + descended upon the Frenchman and the door flipped to once more. The + Gasowashine had dislodged the cook and was free to pursue its wanderings + unhindered. + </p> + <p> + And certainly it made the most of the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + For three or four yards it bumped along, ramming its top-heavy nose into + the carpet and seeming to become more and more enraged at its slow + progress. Then it paused a moment and pawed at the floor with its whizzing + wheels. + </p> + <p> + I fancied that I could upset it then, and sprang forward to do so, + regardless of Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + I might have known better. I was within perhaps ten feet of the + Gasowashine when another door, this time a smaller one toward the front, + squeaked for a moment and then flew open. Simultaneously a bolt of + something white shot forth and made for my head. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of appearances, I dropped flat to the floor and wriggled out of + the danger zone. + </p> + <p> + When I arose, I realized what new disaster had taken place. It was the + sixty yards of dish-towel this time! + </p> + <p> + Presumably, a roller had smashed and released the thing; at any rate, + there it was, yard after yard of it, trailing after the Gasowashine as it + thumped energetically toward the street door. + </p> + <p> + And that was not the worst. The end of the toweling entwined itself about + one of the dining-tables and held there. The table went over, collided + with the next and emptied that, too. + </p> + <p> + Then the next followed and the next, each new crash echoed by the + frightened squeals of the guests, now lined up against the opposite walls. + </p> + <p> + The tenth table, with its load of crockery and glassware, had been sent to + destruction before Macdougal, the manager, finally gained the dining-room. + Tears rose to his eyes as he made a rapid survey of the havoc, but he kept + his wits and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Knock it over! Somebody knock it over!” A big military-looking man in + evening clothes sprang forward. I offered a prayer for him and held my + breath. He rushed to the Gasowashine, seized it with his mighty arms, and + gave a shove. + </p> + <p> + “M-m-m-mister,” quavered Hawkins, wriggling from under one of the tables, + “don't do that! The g-g-g-gasolene tank!” + </p> + <p> + But it was done. With a dull crash, the only perfect machine for washing + and drying dishes fell to its side. The big man smiled at it. + </p> + <p> + And then—well, then a sheet of flame seemed to envelope the + unfortunate. A heavy boom shook the apartment, the big glass door + splintered musically and fell inward, the lights in that end of the room + were extinguished. + </p> + <p> + Then followed the screams of the terrified guests, the patter of + numberless fragments of crockery and countless drops of filthy dishwater + as they reached the floor. And then the big man picked himself up some + twenty feet from the spot where he had dared the wrath of the Gasowashine. + </p> + <p> + And Hawkins standing majestically in the wreck of a table, with one foot + in a salad bowl and the other oozing nesselrode pudding, while an unbroken + stream of mayonnaise dressing meandered down the back of his coat—Hawkins, + standing thus, shook his fist at the big man and, above the turmoil, + shouted at him: + </p> + <p> + “I told you so!” + </p> + <p> + Such was the fate of the first, last, and only Gasowashine. + </p> + <p> + Bellboys, clerks, and waiters pelted with hand grenades its smoldering + remains and squirted chemical fire-extinguishers upon it; but the + Gasowashine's day was done. Its turbulent spirit had passed to another + sphere. + </p> + <p> + Later, when some measure of order had been restored to the dining-room, + when the door had been boarded up and the inquisitive police satisfied and + the street crowd dispersed; when a sympathetic waiter had partially + cleansed Hawkins, and that gentleman had suggested that we might as well + depart, he received a peremptory invitation to call upon the proprietor in + his private office. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor was a calm, cold man. He viewed Hawkins with an inscrutable + stare for some time before he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know, Mr. Hawkins,” he said at last, “whom to blame for this.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know! That hulking lummox who knocked over my——” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, the machine was yours, I fear you will have to pay for the + damage.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, eh?” blustered Hawkins. “Well, I told your man Macdougal that if + one dish was broken I'd pay for it. Here's the dollar for the dish! Come, + Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + “Um-um. So you refuse to settle?” smiled the proprietor. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely and positively!” declared Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think that, pending a suit for damages, I can have you held on a + charge of disorderly conduct,” mused the calm man. “Mr. Macdougal, will + you kindly call an officer?” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins wilted at that. His checkbook came forth, and the string of + figures he was compelled to write made my heart bleed. + </p> + <p> + When he had exchanged the slip for a receipt, Hawkins and I made for the + side door and slunk out into the night. + </p> + <p> + The Gasowashine, I presume, or such combustible fragments as remained, + found an inglorious grave next day in the ranges of the same kitchen which + had witnessed the start of its short little life. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + Perhaps some of the blame should rest upon the barbaric habit of having + Sunday dinner in the middle of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Had it been evening when Hawkins and his better half sat down to dinner + with us, it would not, naturally, have been daylight; and much + unpleasantness might have been avoided, for the gas had not yet been + turned on in the modeled Hawkins residence, and an inspection would have + been impossible. + </p> + <p> + Again, I may have started the trouble myself by bringing up the subject of + the renovations. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the work's all done,” said Hawkins, with a more genial air than he + usually exhibited when that topic was touched. “I tell you, it's a model + home now.” + </p> + <p> + “Particularly in containing no new inventions by its owner,” added Mrs. + Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those may come later,” said the gifted inventor, casting a complacent + wink in my direction. + </p> + <p> + “Not if I have anything to say about it,” replied the lady rather tartly. + “We escaped with our lives when the house was wrecked, but next time——” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” flared Hawkins, “if you knew what that house——” + </p> + <p> + Just here my wife broke in with a spasmodic remark anent the doings of the + Russians in Manchuria, and a discussion of the merits of Hawkins' + inventions was happily averted. + </p> + <p> + But the spunky light didn't die out of Hawkins' eye. He appeared to be + nursing something beside wrath, and when we arose from the table he + remarked shortly: + </p> + <p> + “Come up to the house, Griggs, and smoke a cigar while we look it over.” + </p> + <p> + “And note the charm of the inventionless home,” supplemented his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Inventionless fiddlestick!” snapped Hawkins as he slammed the door behind + us. “It's a wonder to me that women weren't created either with sense or + without tongues.” + </p> + <p> + I made no comment and we walked in silence to the Hawkins house. + </p> + <p> + It had been done over in a style which must have made Hawkins' bank + account look like an Arabian grain field after a particularly bad locust + year; but beyond noting the general beauty of the decorations, I found + nothing remarkable until we reached the second floor. + </p> + <p> + There, as we gazed from the back windows, it struck me that something + familiar had departed, and I asked: + </p> + <p> + “What's become of the fire-escape?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see, eh?” said the inventor, with a prodigiously mysterious + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Hardly. Have you made it invisible?” + </p> + <p> + “No and yes,” chuckled Hawkins. “What would you say, Griggs, to a + fire-escape that you kept indoors until it was needed?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say 'nay, nay,' if any one wanted me to use it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I mean—oh, come up-stairs and I'll show it to you at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Show me what, Hawkins?” I cried, detaining him with a firm hand. “Is it + another contrivance? Has it a motor? Does it use gasolene or gunpowder or + dynamite?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it does not!” said the inventor gruffly, trudging toward the top of + the house. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he exclaimed when we had reached the upper floor. “That's it. + What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + It was a device of strange appearance. It seemed to be a huge + clothes-basket, such as is used for transportation of the family “wash,” + and it was piled with what appeared to be the remains of as many white + sun-umbrellas as could have been collected at half a dozen seaside + resorts. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” I said with a blank smile. “Junk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not junk. That mass of ribs and white silk which looks like junk + to your unaccustomed eye constitutes a set of aeroplanes or wings.” + </p> + <p> + “But the other thing is merely the common or domestic variety of + wash-basket, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—er—yes,” admitted Hawkins with cold dignity. “That + happened to be the most suitable thing for my purpose in this experimental + model. Now, you see, when the wings are spread the basket is suspended + beneath just as the car of a balloon is suspended from a gas-bag, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! I see it all now!” I cried. “You fill the basket, point it in the + right direction, and it flaps its wings and flies away to the washlady!” + </p> + <p> + “That, Griggs,” sneered Hawkins, “is about the view a poor little brain + like yours, permeated with cheap humor, would take. Really, I don't + suppose you could guess the purpose or the name of that thing if you tried + a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Candidly, I don't think I could. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the Hawkins Anti-Fire-Fly!” said the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “The Hawkins—what?” I ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “The Anti-Fire-Fly!” repeated Hawkins enthusiastically. “Say, Griggs, how + that will sound in an advertisement: 'Fly Away From Fire With The + Anti-Fire-Fly!' Great, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “So it's a fire escape?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” chuckled Hawkins, digging around among the ribs and bringing + into tangible shape what looked like several sets of huge bird-wings. “No + more climbing down red-hot ladders through belching flames! No more + children being thrown from fifth story windows! No, siree! All we have to + do now is to place the Anti-Fire-Fly on the window-sill, spread the wings, + jump into the basket, push her off, and——” + </p> + <p> + “And drop to instant death!” + </p> + <p> + “And float gently away from the fire and down to the earth!” concluded + Hawkins, opening the window and shoving out the basket until it fairly + hung over the back yard. “Just watch me.” + </p> + <p> + “See here!” I cried. “You're not going to get into that thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not, eh? You watch me!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins had clambered into the basket before I could lay a hand on him. + </p> + <p> + “Now!” he cried, giving a push with his foot. + </p> + <p> + My breathing apparatus seemed to go on strike. Hawkins, basket, wings, and + all dropped from the window. + </p> + <p> + For an instant they went straight toward the earth; then, like a parachute + opening, the wings spread gracefully, the descent slackened, and Hawkins + floated down, down, down—until he landed in the center of the yard + without a jar. + </p> + <p> + Really, I was amazed. It seemed to be either a special dispensation of + Providence or an invention of Hawkins' which really worked. + </p> + <p> + A minute or two later he had labored back to my side, up the stairs, with + the aerial fire-escape on his back. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he exclaimed. “What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly seems to be a success.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, rather! Now come up to the roof and have a drop with me. We'll go + into the street this time, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Hawkins,” I said, positively. “Don't count me in on that. I'll + wait for the fire before dabbling with your Anti-Fire-Fly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, come with me, anyway. I'm going down once more. You've no idea + of the sensation.” + </p> + <p> + It was a considerable feat of engineering to persuade the Anti-Fire-Fly + into passing through the scuttle, but Hawkins finally accomplished it, and + pushed the contrivance to the edge of the roof. + </p> + <p> + “Now that thing will carry a small family with ease and safety,” he said + proudly. “Just sit down in the basket and feel the roominess. Oh, don't be + afraid. I'll come, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's very nice,” I said somewhat nervously, after crouching beside + him for a moment. “I think I'll get out now.” + </p> + <p> + “All ri—oh! Here! Wait!” cried Hawkins, grabbing my coat and pulling + me back. “Sit down!” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “The—the—the wings!” stuttered the inventor. “The—the + wind!” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott!” I shouted as a sudden breeze caught the wings and tilted + the basket far to one side. “Let me out!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” shrieked Hawkins wildly. “You'll break your neck, man! We're + right on the edge of the roof now, and——” + </p> + <p> + And we were over the edge! + </p> + <p> + There was the street—miles below! Sickening dread choked me. I + closed my eyes and gripped the basket as the accursed thing swayed from + side to side and threatened every instant to precipitate us on the hard + stones. + </p> + <p> + But it grew steadier presently. I looked about. + </p> + <p> + There was Hawkins hanging on for dear life, and white as death, but still + serene. There, also, were numerous graveled roofs—some twenty feet + below. + </p> + <p> + We were going up! Also, I was startled to note that the high wind was + driving us down-town at a rapid pace. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Hawkins!” I said. “What does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “M-m-means that a big wind has caught us,” replied the inventor with a + sickly smile. + </p> + <p> + “And when do you suppose it's going to let go of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—we—we may be able to catch one of those high roofs over + there,” murmured Hawkins with assurance that did not reassure. “You—you + know we can't go up very far, Griggs. This thing was not built for + flying.” + </p> + <p> + “For anything that wasn't made for the purpose, it's doing wonders,” I + retorted. Then a sudden puff sent us up fully ten feet. “Heavens! There + goes our chance at those roofs!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! So it does!” muttered the inventor as we sailed gracefully over + the chimney-tops. “How unfortunate!” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be a lot more unfortunate when we pitch down into the street!” I + snarled. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Griggs,” said Hawkins argumentatively as we sped down-town on the + steadily rising wind, “why do you always take this pessimistic view of + things? Can't you see—is it beyond your little mental scope to + realize that we have fairly fallen over a great discovery, something that + men have been seeking for ages? Don't you comprehend, from the very fact + of our being up here and still rising that these wings accidentally embody + the vital principles of the dirigible——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dry up!” I growled as we flitted swiftly past a church steeple. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins regarded me sadly, and I sadly regarded the street below and tried + to assimilate the fact that we were two hundred feet above the ground and + rising at every puff of wind; that we were in a crazy clothes-basket, + suspended from a crazier pair of wings, absolutely at the mercy of the + breeze and likely at any moment to drop to eternal smash! + </p> + <p> + I did realize, without any effort, that my lower limbs were developing + excruciating shooting pains from the cramped position. + </p> + <p> + The time passed very slowly. The houses below passed with astounding + rapidity. + </p> + <p> + I thought of our wives, sitting calmly in my home, ignorant of our plight. + I wondered what their sentiments would be when some kindly ambulance + surgeon had brought home such fragments of Hawkins and me as might have + been collected with a dust-pan and brush. + </p> + <p> + I wondered whether the accursed Anti-Fire-Fly would dump us out and + flutter away into eternity, to leave our fate unexplained, or whether it + would accompany us to our doom and be found gloating over the respective + grease-spots that would represent all that was mortal of Hawkins and + myself. + </p> + <p> + And at about this point in my meditations, I noted that we were sailing + over Union Square. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it fine?” cried Hawkins enthusiastically. “You never came down-town + like this before, Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + “I never expect to again, Hawkins,” I sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Why, Griggs, this thing is only the nucleus of my future + airship, and yet see how it floats! Oh, I've thought it all out in the + last five minutes. It's astonishing that it never occurred to me before. + Now, these wings, you see, are so constructed——” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Hawkins,” I said, “do you mean to say that you expect to get + out of this thing alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied the inventor in astonishment. “There's no danger. I + can see that now, although I was a trifle startled at first. It's only a + matter of minutes when we shall go near enough to one of those big office + buildings to grab it and stop ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “And clamber down the side—twenty or thirty stories?” + </p> + <p> + “And even if we can't land, we shan't fall. The construction of these + wings is such——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hang the construction of your wings!” I cried. “We're going right + toward the bay—suppose the wind dies down and lets us into the + water?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, these wings are water-proof, you know,” said Hawkins. “They might——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and the bay might dry up, so that we could walk back if we escaped + being broken in pieces, Hawkins,” I sneered. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins subsided. The breeze did not. + </p> + <p> + It was one of the most impolitely persistent breezes I have ever + encountered. It seemed bent on landing us in New York harbor, and before + many minutes we were suspended high above that expansive, and in some + circumstances, charming body of water. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “<i>Before many minutes we were suspended high above that + expansive, and in some circumstances charming, body of water</i>."} + </p> + <p> + Furthermore, having wafted us something like a quarter of a mile from + shore, it proceeded to die out in a manner which was, to say the least, + disheartening. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins grew paler by perceptible shades as we progressed, ever nearer the + water and farther from hope; and it was not until I opened my mouth to + vent a few last invidious criticisms of him and his methods that the + inventor's face brightened. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, Griggs! Look! That ferry-boat! That fellow on the roof! He's got + a boat-hook! Hey! Hey! Hey! you!” + </p> + <p> + The individual gazed aloft and nearly collapsed with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Catch us!” bawled the inventor frantically. “Catch the basket with that + hook! We want to come aboard! Hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + The boat was going in our direction and rather faster. The man on the roof + seemed to comprehend. He reached up with his hook. He leaped a couple of + times in vain. + </p> + <p> + And then we felt a shock which told of our capture! I breathed a long, + happy sigh. + </p> + <p> + In dealing with Hawkins' inventions, long, happy sighs are premature + unless you are positive that your entire anatomical structure is complete, + and likewise certain that the contrivance lies at your feet in a condition + of total wreck. + </p> + <p> + The basket was suspended from a thin, steel frame, from which several + dozen stout cords rose to that idiotic pair of wings. When we were fairly + caught, Hawkins cried: + </p> + <p> + “Now, Griggs, stand up and catch the frame and pull the whole business + down with us. And you, down there, pull hard! Pull hard, now!” + </p> + <p> + I seized the steel frame on one side, Hawkins on the other, and we pulled. + And the man with the boat-hook pulled. And at the psychological moment the + wind rose afresh and pulled at the wings with a mighty pull! + </p> + <p> + Some seconds of dizzy swirling in the air, and the clothes-basket portion + of the Anti-Fire-Fly lay on the roof of the ferry-boat, while Hawkins and + I hung far above, entangled in the cords and clutching them wildly and + rising steadily once more! + </p> + <p> + “Great Caesar's ghost!” gurgled the inventor. “This is awful!” + </p> + <p> + “Awful!” I gasped when breath had returned. “It's—it's——” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! Lord! We're going straight for Staten Island. Don't move, Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” I said. “I'm caught tight here. Good-by, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “We're—we're not done for yet,” quavered that individual. “We may + hit land. But isn't—isn't it terrible?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” I groaned. “It's all right. No more climbing down red-hot + ladders through belching flames! No more throwing children from——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't joke, Griggs,” wailed Hawkins. “I will say I'm sorry I got you into + this.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Hawkins,” I said, nearly strangled by a cord which persisted + in twisting itself about my neck. “So am I.” + </p> + <p> + Conversation lagged after that. For my part, I was too dazed and too + firmly enmeshed in the cords to say much. + </p> + <p> + I fancy that the same applied to Hawkins, but he happened to be facing + ahead, and now and then he called back bulletins of our progress. + </p> + <p> + “Getting nearer the island,” he announced after some ten minutes of the + agony. + </p> + <p> + A little later: “Thank Heaven! We're almost over land!” + </p> + <p> + And still later, when I had been choked and twisted almost into + insensibility by the eccentric dives of the affair and the consequent + tightening of the cords, he revived me with: + </p> + <p> + “By George, Griggs, we're sinking toward land!” + </p> + <p> + I managed to look downward. Hawkins had told the truth. The wind was + indeed going down, and with it the remains of the Anti-Fire-Fly. + </p> + <p> + Beneath appeared a big factory, its chimney belching forth black smoke in + disregard of the Sabbath, and we seemed likely to land within its + precincts. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it! I knew it!” Hawkins cried joyfully. “We're safe, after all, + just as I said. We'll drop just outside the fence.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank the Lord,” I murmured. + </p> + <p> + “No! No! We'll drop right on that heap of dirt!” predicted Hawkins + excitedly. “Yes, sir, that's where we'll drop. D'ye see that fellow + wheeling a wheelbarrow toward the pile? Hey!” + </p> + <p> + The man glanced up in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Farther down every minute!” pursued Hawkins. “I knew we'd be all right! + Maybe the Anti-Fire-Fly isn't such a bad thing after all, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe not,” I sighed. “But I'll take the red-hot ladder.” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead and take it,” chattered the inventor. “We're not thirty feet + from the ground and steering straight for that dirt-pile. Yes, sir, the + wind's gone down completely. Hooray!” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, youse!” shouted the man with the wheelbarrow, somewhat excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” bawled Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Steer away from it!” continued the workman, waving his arms at the pile. + </p> + <p> + “We can't steer,” replied Hawkins cheerfully. “But it's all right.” + </p> + <p> + “The poile! The poile! Sure, we've just drew the foire, an' thim's the hot + coals! Be careful o' the cinder poile!” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” asked Hawkins superciliously. + </p> + <p> + “'Be careful of the cinder pile,' I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we won't hurt your old cinder pile!” called the inventor jocosely, as + the wreck of the Anti-Fire-Fly swooped down with a rush. + </p> + <p> + “But the cinders!” howled the man. “Bedad! They're into it! Mike! Mike! + Bring the hose! The hose!” + </p> + <p> + And we <i>were</i> into it. + </p> + <p> + A final rush of air and we struck the pile with a thud. And for my part, I + had no sooner landed than I bounced to my feet with a shriek, for that + cinder pile was about the hottest proposition it has ever been my + misfortune to meet. + </p> + <p> + The cords were all about me, and as I pulled wildly in one direction, I + could feel Hawkins pulling as wildly in the opposite. + </p> + <p> + “Let go! Let go, Griggs!” he screamed. “Come my way! Lord! I'm all afire! + Come, quick!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to climb back over that infernal heap!” I shouted. “You + come this way!” + </p> + <p> + “But my feet! They're burning, and——” + </p> + <p> + A mighty stream of water knocked me headlong to the ground. Sizzling, + steaming on the red-hot cinders, it caught Hawkins and hurled his panting + person to the other side, Anti-Fire-Fly and all. Mike had arrived with the + hose. + </p> + <p> + After a period of wallowing in water and mud I regained my feet. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins was already standing a little distance away, torn, scorched, + drenched, black with cinders and staring wild-eyed about him. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—Griggs,” he mumbled, “what—did—we——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we flew away from fire with the Anti-Fire-Fly!” I said. + </p> + <p> + Such was the end of the Anti-Fire-Fly. + </p> + <p> + Attired in such of our own raiment as had survived the cinder pile and the + hose, and in other bits of clothing contributed by kindly factory workmen, + we took the next boat for New York, and a cab thereafter. + </p> + <p> + We reached home in time to see the ladies mounting the Hawkins' steps, + presumably to investigate the reason for our prolonged inspection. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments they seemed quite incapable of speech. Mrs. Hawkins was + the first to regain the use of her tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Herbert,” she said in an ominously calm tone, “what was it this time?” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins smiled foolishly. + </p> + <p> + “It was the Hawkins Anti-Fire-Fly,” I said spitefully. “Fly away from fire + with the Anti-Fire-Fly, you know. Tell your wife about it, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Hawkins addressed her husband and said—but let that pass. + </p> + <p> + We have all the essential facts of the case as it is. Moreover, a + successful author told me last week that unhappy endings are in the worst + possible taste just now. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Hawkins and his wife had been just one month in their new house. + </p> + <p> + My memory on that point is particularly clear, for the Executive Committee + of the Ladies' Missionary Society met at Hawkins' home the very day they + moved in officially; and it had been hanging over me, more or less, that + the next assembly of that body was to be held at my own residence. + </p> + <p> + Not that I am in any way unsympathetic as to church work and benighted + savages and such matters; but when half a dozen women get together and + discuss a few heathen and a great many hats and similar things, the + solitary man in the house is apt to feel—— + </p> + <p> + At any rate, when I saw Mrs. Hawkins enter my door that evening, the first + of the Executive Committee to arrive, I experienced a sinking sensation + for the moment. Then I secured my hat, mumbled a few excuses, and + disappeared, to see how Hawkins was spending the evening. + </p> + <p> + The inventor himself answered my ring. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Griggs,” he remarked. “Committee talk you out of the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Something of the sort,” I admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Glad you came in. There's something I want to—but hang up your + hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said, closing the door, “why do you pay a large overfed + English gentleman to stand around the premises if it's necessary for you + to answer the bell? I'm not much on style, you know, but——” + </p> + <p> + “William? Oh, it's his night out,” laughed Hawkins. “I believe the cook + and the girls have gone, too, for that matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we're altogether alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the inventor comfortably, pushing forward one of the big + library chairs for my accommodation, “all alone in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “And it's a mighty nice house,” I mused, gazing into the next apartment, + the dining-room. “That's a splendid room, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it?” smiled Hawkins, drawing back the heavy curtains rather + proudly. “Most of the little wrinkles are my own ideas, too.” + </p> + <p> + “That sideboard?” I asked, indicating a frail-looking but artistic bit of + furniture built into the wall. + </p> + <p> + “That, too—combination of sideboard and silver-safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” I laughed. “You don't keep the silver in there?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear man, any one could pry that door off with a pen-knife.” + </p> + <p> + “Admitted. But supposing your 'any one' to be a burglar, he'd have to get + to the door before he could pry it off, would he not, Griggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Burglars do not, as a rule, find great difficulty in entering the average + house,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! That's just it—the average house!” cried the inventor. “This + isn't the average house, Griggs. The burglar who tries to get into this + particular house is distinctly up against it!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! The crook that attempts a nocturnal entrance here has my + sincere and heartfelt sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins' Patent Automatic Burglar Alarm?” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce are you sneering at?” snapped the inventor. “No, there's + no patent burglar alarm in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins' Steel Dynamite-Proof Shutters?” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins ignored the remark and busied himself lighting a cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins' Triple-Expansion Spring-Gun?” I hazarded once more. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, drop it! Drop it!” cried Hawkins. “Positively, Griggs, your efforts + at humor disgust one. In some ways, you are as bad as a woman. Go back and + sit with the Executive Committee.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the connection?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the thing I expected to show you in a few minutes is the very same + one which my wife fought against for two weeks, before she let me put it + into operation peacefully!” Hawkins burst out. “There's where the + connection comes in between your degenerate little wits and those of the + generality of women.” + </p> + <p> + “If it was an invention, I don't blame your wife one little bit, Hawkins,” + I said. “I can see just how she must have felt about——” + </p> + <p> + “There's the evening paper, if you want to read,” spat forth the inventor, + poking the sheet across the library table. + </p> + <p> + Therewith he turned his back squarely upon me and settled down to a book. + </p> + <p> + It wasn't polite of Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, after a short space the situation waxed distinctly uncomfortable; + and although I am pretty well accustomed to the inventor's moods, I must + admit that in another five minutes I should have cleared out had it not + been for a rather unexpected happening. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins was sitting near the window—in fact, his chair brushed the + hangings. As I sat gazing pensively at the back of his neck, a sudden + breeze swayed the curtains above him. + </p> + <p> + There was an undue amount of swishing overhead, it seemed to me. Something + near the top of the window, and concealed by the hangings, rattled + distinctly; simultaneously a gong struck sharply somewhere up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins whirled about, a most remarkable expression on his lately sullen + countenance. As nearly as I could analyze it, it was a mixture of joy, + excitement, and trembling expectancy. + </p> + <p> + “One!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + The bell struck again. + </p> + <p> + “Two!” cried Hawkins. “By Jove! That's——” + </p> + <p> + Crash! + </p> + <p> + Out of the curtains something dropped heavily on the inventor! + </p> + <p> + For an instant it held the appearance of a grain sack, but there was + something distinctly solid about it, too, for it dealt Hawkins a + resounding whack upon his cranium before it rolled to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” he gasped, sinking back into his chair caressing the bump with an + unsteady hand. “That—that did startle me, Griggs!” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't wonder,” I smiled. “What on earth did you have concealed up + there?” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! You'd never guess,” remarked Hawkins, his ill-humor departed. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't believe I should,” I mused, staring at the pile of canvas on + the floor. “Did the painters leave it?” + </p> + <p> + “They did not,” replied Hawkins coldly. “That, Griggs, is the Hawkins + Crook-Trap!” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins—Crook-Trap!” I repeated. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said,” pursued the gentleman. “Possibly—now—it + may not be past your understanding to grasp why I feel so secure about + that flimsy little silver-safe.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I see. The burglar, presumably, comes in at the window, is + knocked senseless by your trap, and next morning you find and capture him + as you go down to breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort. Look here.” Hawkins picked up the affair. + </p> + <p> + As he grasped the end, the thing hung downward and showed itself to be a + long canvas bag, fully large enough to contain the upper half of the + average man. It was distended, too, by ribs, and appeared to be of + considerable weight. + </p> + <p> + “There she is—just a bag, telescoped and hung on a frame above the + window. The burglar steps in, the bag is released, drops over him, these + circular steel ribs contract and clutch his arms like a vise—and + there you are! How's that for an idea, Griggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Looks good,” I assented. + </p> + <p> + “Moreover, the same spring which releases the ribs breaks a bottle of + chloroform,” continued the inventor enthusiastically. “It runs into a + hood, is pressed against the burglar's nose, and two minutes later the man + is stark and stiff on the floor! + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile the annunciator bell tells me what window has been opened. I + ring up the police—and it's all over with the man who tried to break + in.” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds all right,” I admitted. “Why didn't it do all that just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Just now? Oh—you mean—just now?” stammered the inventor. + “Well, it did do practically all of that, didn't it? The window wasn't + opened, anyway—it was the breeze that knocked down the thing. + Furthermore, the ones on this floor aren't adjusted yet—I only got + them from the fellow who made them to-day. + </p> + <p> + “But up-stairs they're all fixed—chloroform and all, ready for the + burglar. I tell you, Griggs, when this crook-trap of mine is on every + window in New York City, there'll be a sensation in criminal circles!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. How much does it cost?” + </p> + <p> + “Um—well—er—well it cost me about—er—one + hundred dollars a window, Griggs, but——” + </p> + <p> + “About twenty windows to the average house,” I murmured. “Two thousand + dollars for——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it won't cost a tenth of that when I'm having the parts turned out + in quantities,” cried Hawkins, with considerable heat. “Why under the sun + do you always try to throw a wet blanket over everything? Suppose it does + cost two thousand dollars to equip a house with my crook-trap? If a man + has ten thousand dollars' worth of silverware, he'll be willing enough to + spend——” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. It wasn't meant for a nasty laugh at all—it was simply + amusement at the inventor's emotionalism. But it riled Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Where the devil does the joke come in?” he thundered. “If I——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “I won't hush! I——” + </p> + <p> + “Two!” I counted. “Be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins calmed down on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “Was—was it the bell?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! + </p> + <p> + The gong up-stairs had chimed six times and stopped. + </p> + <p> + I stared at Hawkins, and Hawkins at me, and the inventor's countenance + went white. + </p> + <p> + Far above, the evening calm was disturbed by a stamping and threshing + noise, punctuated now and then by a muffled shout. + </p> + <p> + “There!” cried the inventor. There was a wealth of satisfaction in that + one word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, somebody's caught,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “You bet he is!” replied Hawkins, with a nervous chuckle. “Six bells—that's + the top story back—one of the servants' rooms. Somebody must have + thought the house deserted and come in from the roof.” + </p> + <p> + Bang! Bang! Bang! The intruder wasn't submitting to the caresses of the + crook-trap without a struggle. Also, from the volume and vigor of the + racket, it was painfully clear that the intruder was a robust individual. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Hawkins, still staring at me with a rigid smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we've got to go up there and capture him,” announced the inventor, + gathering himself for the task. “Come on.” + </p> + <p> + “Not just yet, thank you. We'll let the chloroform get in its work first.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't you want to see the thing in actual operation?” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins, if any one could have less curiosity about anything than I have + about seeing your crook-trap in operation——” + </p> + <p> + “All right, stay down here if you like. I'm going up.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose your burglar gets loose?” I argued. “Suppose he has a big, wicked + revolver, and learns that you're responsible for the way he's been + handled?” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins walked resolutely and silently toward the stairs. As for me, + curiosity as to his fate bested my judgment. I followed. + </p> + <p> + As we neared the top of the house, the thumping and hammering grew louder + and more vicious; and when we finally stood outside the door, the din was + actually deafening. + </p> + <p> + “That's—that's either William's room or the cook's,” said Hawkins, + with a slight quaver in his tones. “He's going it, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “He certainly is. Let's stay here, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I'm going in to watch it. He's not loose, that's sure.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins opened the door very gently. + </p> + <p> + Inside, the room was dark—not pitch dark, but that semi-gloom of a + city room whose only light comes from an arc lamp half a block away. + </p> + <p> + The air was heavy and sickening with the fumes of chloroform. They fairly + sent my head a-reeling, but their effect upon the burglar seemed to have + been nil. + </p> + <p> + Over by the window a huge form was hurling itself to and fro, from wall to + wall and back again, in the frantic endeavor to gain freedom. The bag + enveloped his head and shoulders, but a mighty pair of arms within the bag + were straining and tearing at the fabric, and a couple of long, muscular + legs kicked madly at everything within reach. + </p> + <p> + Every few seconds, too, a puffed oath added spice to the excitement, as + the captive wrenched and strained. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, the scene was a bit too gruesome to be humorous. As a rule I + can see the funny side of Hawkins' doings; but the fun departed from this + particular mess at the thought of what would happen when the colossus + finally emerged from the bag and commenced operations upon Hawkins and + myself—neither of us athletes. + </p> + <p> + “He's caught, isn't he, Griggs?” stuttered Hawkins, clutching my arm. + </p> + <p> + “For the moment,” I replied. “But come—let's get an officer. If that + canvas gives——” + </p> + <p> + “Gives!” sneered the inventor. “Why that canvas——” + </p> + <p> + “Gawd! If I gets yer!” screamed the man in the bag. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, great Caesar!” gulped Hawkins. “It's—it's getting horrible, + isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! I heard yer then, ye cur!” roared the captive. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins' hand on my arm shook violently. + </p> + <p> + “We—we'll have to do something with him,” he whispered. “What shall + it be? We've got to subdue him, somehow or other.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not let the chloroform work while we go out and get a couple of + policemen?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, it doesn't seem to be working, Griggs. Don't know why, but—phew! + Did you hear that rip?” + </p> + <p> + I had heard it. I had also seen the silhouette of a long arm appear + against the dim light of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord!” gasped Hawkins. “It's given somewhere! We'll have to squelch + him now inside of ten seconds or—what the deuce shall I do, Griggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Take a chair and stun him,” I replied. “That's all I can suggest. And + personally I don't care for the job.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—somebody's got to do something,” groaned the inventor, seizing + one of the bedroom chairs. “If ever he gets loose—say, where are you + going, Griggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Just into the hall,” I said. “I'm going to light the gas and watch the + battle from a safe distance.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins clutched his chair and stared at me like a man in a nightmare. His + expression reminded me of the day when, as a boy on the farm, I took the + hatchet and started out to kill my first chicken. I felt just as Hawkins + looked that evening in the dark doorway of the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “D'ye suppose it'll kill him?” he choked. “Griggs, do you think——” + </p> + <p> + A long rip resounded from the darkness. A triumphant shout followed. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins turned swiftly, raised his chair, and darted toward the man in the + bag. + </p> + <p> + There was a crash, a shout, a dull blow, and a heavy fall—and just + then I managed to light the gas. + </p> + <p> + Literally, I caught my breath and rubbed my eyes. For a few seconds the + scene dumfounded me past action; but shortly I hurried into the apartment + and struck another light. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins was stretched upon the floor groaning. His entire face seemed to + have suffered violent impact with some unyielding body, and both hands + covered his nose, from which the life-blood flowed freely. + </p> + <p> + And across the room, sitting against the wall, his large person decorated + by sundry steel hoops and shreds of canvas, sat—William, the + Hawkins' butler, staring dazedly into space! + </p> + <p> + Between them lay the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Griggs, Griggs, Griggs!” moaned the inventor. “Come quick! Get my + wife! I'm done for this time! He's finished me!” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins!” I cried, shaking him. “Did he——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind him—let him escape,” replied Hawkins, faintly. “Just get + my wife before I go. Good-by, old friend, good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr.—'Awkins!” gasped the butler, his senses returning. + </p> + <p> + “What!” shrilled the inventor, sitting bolt upright, black eyes, swelled + face, and all completely forgotten. “Is that you, William?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” stammered the man. “Was—was it you I hit, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it!” yelled Hawkins, struggling to his feet. “Look at this face! What + the deuce did you mean by it?” + </p> + <p> + “Beg—beg pardon, sir, but did you—did you sorter strike me + with a chair, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I—well, yes, William, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I, not knowing of course as it was you, sir, I sorter hit back. But + have you got the thief, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “The what?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, yes, sir. There's one in the house. I was attacked here—right + in this here very room. See here, sir, this bag! Just as I opened the + window, he kem behind me, sir, threw it over my head, and tried to + chloroform me, sir—you can smell it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. All right,” said Hawkins, briefly, with what must have seemed to the + man a strange lack of interest. + </p> + <p> + “You see, sir, whoever the rascal was, he must 'a' known as I intended + going out this evening, sir, and that the house would be empty like. So in + he sneaks from the roof, bag and all, and waits. And when I kem up the + stairs, instead of going out, sir——” + </p> + <p> + “All right. That'll do. I understand,” muttered Hawkins. “No one threw a + bag over you. It was a new—er—sort of burglar alarm—just + had it put up to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Burglar alarm!” cried the butler, staring at the remnants from which he + was slowly extricating himself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” snapped Hawkins. “And don't stand there mumbling over it, William!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said the inventor, “is a—er—twenty-dollar note. You + will immediately forget everything that has happened within the last half + hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” responded the butler, with a wide smile. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins led the way down-stairs. In the bathroom he paused to lave his + much abused features; and by the time he had finished, my own features had + had a chance to regain something like composure. + </p> + <p> + Once more in the library, which we had deserted some twenty minutes + before, Hawkins threw himself rather limply into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, well!” he muttered. “Now, who under the sun could have + foreseen that?” + </p> + <p> + I forebore remarks. + </p> + <p> + “William ought to be in the prize-ring,” continued the inventor sadly. + “But he's a bright chap. He'll keep his mouth shut. Lucky—er—nobody + else was in the house, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “How are you going to account to Mrs. Hawkins for those black eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—we can say that we were boxing and you hit me. That's easy.” + </p> + <p> + “She'll believe that, too, Hawkins,” I said, gazing at the battered + countenance. “You look more as if you'd had a collision with an express + train.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she'll believe it, all right,” said the inventor cheerily. “For once—just + for once, Griggs—something has happened which my better half won't + be on to. You'll see I'm right. There isn't a clue.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps,” I sighed. + </p> + <p> + “And now let's have some of that old Scotch. I feel a little weak.” + </p> + <p> + We loitered into the next apartment—the dining-room. We turned our + footsteps toward the sideboard. We stopped—both of us—as if + transformed to stone. + </p> + <p> + The door was off the silver-safe. The drawers lay about the floor. And the + little safe itself was as empty as the day it left the cabinet-maker! + </p> + <p> + “D-d-d'you see it, too?” cried Hawkins in a scared, husky voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, stooping to look into the safe. “It must have been a + sneak-thief, Hawkins. Every vestige of your beautiful service is gone!” + </p> + <p> + The inventor glared long at the wreck. + </p> + <p> + “And now that's got to be explained,” he muttered at last, continuing his + journey to the sideboard. “How can I get around it?” + </p> + <p> + He poured out a generous dose of the Scotch, imbibed it at a swallow, and + shuffled drearily back to the library, where he dropped once more into a + chair and stared through fast-swelling eyes at the glazed tile fire-place. + </p> + <p> + And I? Well, just then I heard Mrs. Hawkins' step on the vestibule + flooring without; she had returned for the minutes of the last meeting. + </p> + <p> + The bell rang. I walked quickly upstairs to call up the police and notify + them. It wasn't my place to answer that bell, with William in the house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + The gathering at the Hawkins' home that night was, I suppose, in the + nature of a house-warming. + </p> + <p> + The Blossoms, the Ridgeways, the Eldridges, the Gordons were there, in + addition to perhaps a dozen and a half other people whom I had never met. + Also, Mr. Blodgett was there. + </p> + <p> + Old Mr. Blodgett is Hawkins' father-in-law. There is a Mrs. Blodgett, too, + but she is really too sweet an old lady to be placed in the mother-in-law + category. + </p> + <p> + Blodgett, however, makes up for any deficiencies on his wife's part in the + traditional traits. He seems to have analyzed Hawkins with expert care and + precision—to have appraised and classified his character and + attainments to a nicety. + </p> + <p> + Consequently, Hawkins and Mr. Blodgett are rarely to be observed wandering + hither and thither with their arms about each other's waists. + </p> + <p> + Finally, I was there myself with my wife. + </p> + <p> + It seems almost superfluous to mention my presence. Whenever Hawkins is on + the verge of trouble with one of his contrivances, some esoteric force + seems to sweep me along in his direction with resistless energy. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes I wonder what Hawkins did for a victim before we met—but + let that be. + </p> + <p> + Dinner had been lively, for the guests were mainly young, and the wines + such as Hawkins can afford; but when we had assembled in the drawing-room, + conversation seemed to slow down somewhat, and to pass over to a languid + discussion of the house as a sort of relaxation. + </p> + <p> + Then it was that a pert miss from one of the Oranges remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the frescoing is lovely—almost all of it. But—whoever + could have designed that frieze, Mr. Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + “Er—that frieze?” repeated the inventor, a little uncomfortably, + indicating the insane-looking strip of painting a foot or so wide which + ran along under the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's so funny. Nothing but dots and dots and dots. Whoever could + have conceived such an idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did, Miss Mather,” Hawkins replied. “I designed that myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did you?” murmured the inquisitive one, going red. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins turned to me, and the girl subsided; but old Mr. Blodgett had + overheard. He felt constrained to put in, with his usual tactful thought + and grating, nasal voice: + </p> + <p> + “It's hideous—simply hideous. I don't see—I can't see the + sense in spending that amount of money in plastering painted roses and + undressed young ones all over the ceiling, Herbert.” + </p> + <p> + “No?” said Hawkins between his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Folly—pure folly,” grunted the old gentleman. “No reason for it—no + reason under the sun.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins at least reserves family dissensions for family occasions. He held + his peace and his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” persisted Blodgett, “everything else out of the question, the + house might catch fire to-night, and your entire stock of painted babies + go up in smoke. Then where'd they be? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “See here,” said Hawkins, goaded into speech, “you just keep your mind + easy on that score at least, will you, papa, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “What's that? What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “This house isn't going up in smoke,” went on the inventor tartly. “You + can take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't, eh?” jeered the elderly Blodgett with his nasty sneering little + chuckle. “And how do you know it's not? Eh? Smarter men than you, my boy, + and in better built houses have——” + </p> + <p> + “Look here! This particular place isn't going to burn, because——” + Hawkins rapped out. + </p> + <p> + “What isn't going to burn, Herbert?” inquired Mrs. Hawkins, with a cold, + warning glance at her husband as she perceived that hostilities were in + progress. “Is he teasing you again, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Teasing me!” sniffed Blodgett with an unpleasant leer at Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Teasing that antiquity!” Hawkins growled in my ear. “Say, isn't that + enough to——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't whisper, Herbert—it isn't polite,” continued Mrs. Hawkins, + the playfulness of her manner somewhat belied by the glitter in her eye. + “Let us all into the secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there's no secret,” said the inventor shortly. + </p> + <p> + “No dance, either,” pouted the girl from Jersey, who was an intimate of + the family. + </p> + <p> + It was the signal for the light fantastic business to begin. Hawkins is + notoriously out of sympathy with dancing. He took my arm and guided me + stealthily from the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” remarked the inventor when we had settled ourselves up-stairs with + a couple of cigars. “Say, Griggs, do you still wonder at crime?” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning dear papa Blodgett,” snapped Hawkins. “Honestly, do you believe + it would be really wicked to lure that old human pussy-cat down cellar and + sort of lose him through the furnace-door?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk nonsense, Hawkins,” I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't nonsense. It's the way I feel. But I'll get square on that + spiteful tongue of his some day—and when I do! There isn't anything + sweeter waiting for me in Heaven than to feel myself emptying a pan of + dishwater on that old reprobate from one of the upper windows. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Griggs, sometimes in the night I dream I have him on the floor, that + I'm just getting even for some of the things he's said to me and about me, + and I wake up in a dripping perspiration and——” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Hawkins!” I guffawed. + </p> + <p> + “Strikes you funny, too, does it?” the inventor cried angrily. “I suppose + you think it's all right for him to talk as he does? Criticise my + decorations, tell me they'll all burn up some day, and all that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but they might.” + </p> + <p> + “They might not!” shouted Hawkins in a fury. “You don't know any more + about it than he does. You couldn't burn up this house if you soaked every + carpet in it with oil!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! Why not? That's just the point. Why not, to be sure? Because it's + all prepared for ahead of time.” + </p> + <p> + “Private wire to the engine-house?” I queried. + </p> + <p> + “Private wire to Halifax! There's no private wire about it. See here, + Griggs, do you suppose that poor little brain of yours could comprehend a + truly great idea?” + </p> + <p> + “It could try,” I said meekly. + </p> + <p> + “Then listen. You remember those dots on the frieze all through the house? + You do? All right. Just close your eyes and conceive a little metal tube + running back into the wall. Imagine the little tube opening into a large + supply pipe in the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Is that clear? Then conceive that the supply pipe in each room connects + with a supply pipe in the rear of the house, and that the big pipe + terminates—or rather begins—in a big tank on the top floor!” + </p> + <p> + “But what on earth is it all?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the Hawkins Chemico-Sprinkler System!” announced the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “For the Lord's sake!” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! It's something like the sprinkling system you see in factories, + but all concealed—perfectly adapted to private house purposes! Every + one of those dots is simply a little hole in the wall through which, in + case of fire, will flow quart after quart of my chemical + fire-extinguisher? How's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Er—is the tank full?” I asked, gliding hurriedly away from the + wall. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is. Oh, sit where you were, Griggs, don't drag in that + asinine clownishness of yours. Or, better still, come up with me and see + the business end of the thing—the tank and all that.” + </p> + <p> + “The stuff isn't inflammable, is it? We're smoking, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “An inflammable fire-extinguishing liquid!” cried Hawkins. “Why, can't you + understand that—bah!” + </p> + <p> + He laid a course to the upper regions and I followed. + </p> + <p> + “Out here in the extension,” he explained, when we reached the top floor. + “There!” + </p> + <p> + We stood in a bare room, whose emptiness was accentuated by the cold, + electric light. + </p> + <p> + Furnishings it had none, save for the big tank in the center. This was a + wooden affair, lined with lead. + </p> + <p> + Over the top, and some two feet above the tank proper, the heavy cover was + suspended by a weird system of pulleys and electric wires. To the under + side of the cover was fastened a big glass sphere filled with white stuff. + </p> + <p> + It was a remarkable contrivance. + </p> + <p> + “There—that's simple, isn't it?” said Hawkins, with a happy smile. + </p> + <p> + “It may be if you understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, just look here. See that big glass ball? That's full of marble dust—carbonate + of lime, you know. The tank is filled with weak sulphuric acid. When the + ball drops into the acid—what happens?” + </p> + <p> + “You have a nasty job fishing it out again?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. It smashes into flinders, the marble dust combines with the + sulphuric acid, and forms a neutral liquid, bubbling with carbonic acid. + Even you, Griggs, must know that carbonic acid gas will put out any fire, + without damaging anything. There you are.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. You smell fire, rush up here and knock that ball into the tank, + and the house is flooded through the dots in your frieze. Remarkable!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't even have to come up here,” smiled Hawkins. “See that?” + </p> + <p> + “That” was a little strand of platinum wire in a niche in the wall. + </p> + <p> + “That's just a test fuse, so that I can see that she's all in working + order,” pursued the inventor, leaning his cigar against it. “There's half + a dozen of them in every room in the house. As soon as the heat touches + them, they melt and set off my electric release—and down drops the + cover of the tank—ball and all. The ball breaks, the valve at the + bottom opens automatically—and down goes the tank, full of + extinguisher.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must say it looks practical.” + </p> + <p> + “It is!” asserted Hawkins. “Some night—if the night ever comes—when + you see a roaring blaze in one of these rooms subdued in ten seconds by + the gentle drizzle that comes out of that frieze, you will——” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hawkins, sir,” interrupted Hawkins' butler at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, William?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hawkins, sir, she says as how your presence is desired down-stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right,” said the inventor wearily. “I'll be down directly.” + </p> + <p> + “No rest for the wicked,” he commented to me. “Come on, Griggs, we'll have + to dance.” + </p> + <p> + The festivity was in full swing when we descended. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hawkins came over to us and remarked in low tones to her spouse: + </p> + <p> + “Now just try to make yourself agreeable, Herbert. It's not nice for you + to steal away and smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not smoking.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Griggs is.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am,” I said, suddenly realizing the fact. “William, will you dispose + of this, please?” + </p> + <p> + “Now go right in, both of you,” Mrs. Hawkins began. Then she was called + away. + </p> + <p> + “Griggs!” muttered Hawkins, thoughtfully tapping his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “What—what the deuce did I do with my cigar?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “But I had it up-stairs. We were both smoking.” + </p> + <p> + “So you did,” I said. “The last I saw of it you leaned it against that + fuse thing——” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! That's what I did!” gasped the inventor, turning white. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, suppose the infernal thing has burned down to the fuse!” cried + Hawkins hoarsely. “Suppose it melts through the wire and sends down that + top!” + </p> + <p> + “Will it start the stuff running?” + </p> + <p> + “Start it! Of course it'll start it. Gee whizz! I'm going up there now, + Griggs!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins made for the stairs. I smiled after him, for he seemed rather + worked up. + </p> + <p> + I turned back to the dancers. It was a pretty scene. To the rhythm of a + particularly seductive waltz, the guests were gliding about the floor. I + noted the gay colors of the ladies' gowns, the flowers, the sparkling + diamonds. + </p> + <p> + And then—then I noted the frieze! + </p> + <p> + My eyes seemed instinctively to travel to that stretch of ugliness—they + fastened upon the dots with a kind of fascination. And none too soon. + </p> + <p> + From one of the dots spurted forth what looked like a tiny stream of + water. Another followed and another and yet another. The whole multitude + of dots were raining liquid upon the dancers from all sides of the room! + </p> + <p> + The streams came from north, east, south, and west. They came from the + hallway behind me—a hundred of them seemed to converge upon my + devoted back. I was fairly soaked through in a second. + </p> + <p> + The panic can hardly be fancied. Men and women shrieked together in the + utter amazement of the thing. They laughed aloud, some of them. Others + cried out in terror. + </p> + <p> + They leaped and sprang back and forth, to this side and that, in the vain + endeavor to dodge the innumerable streams. Some slipped and almost fell, + carrying down others with them. And all were doused. + </p> + <p> + Then, as suddenly as it had started, the flood ceased. + </p> + <p> + “Well, God bless my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Blodgett, putting up a hand to + wring his collar. “What in Heaven's name happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Great Caesar's ghost!” said Hawkins' voice behind me. + </p> + <p> + He had returned from his trip to the top floor extension. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” he called with cheery indifference to the contrary + sentiments of two dozen people. “There's no danger. It won't hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “But it does. It bites!” cried the girl from Jersey. “What is it? Where + did it come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it does bite! It smarts awfully! By Jove! The stuff's eating me! + What is it, Hawkins? Oh, Mr. Hawkins, wherever did it come from? Why, it + ran out of those dots—I saw it! What is it?” echoed from different + parts of the room. + </p> + <p> + “It's only my sprinkler—my fire-extinguisher,” Hawkins explained. + “It went off by accident, you see. There's nothing in it to hurt you. It's + perfectly neutral. It can't bite—that's imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “But it does!” cried Mrs. Gordon. “It stings like acid. It actually seems + to be eating my skin!” + </p> + <p> + “Bite! I should say it did!” growled Mr. Blodgett. “It's chewing my hands + off—I believe it's carbolic acid. I do—I'll swear I do. No + smell—but it's been deodorized. That's it—carbolic acid!” + </p> + <p> + “Carbolic fiddlesticks!” said Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + Then a puzzled expression came into his eyes. He raised one of his wet + hands and tasted it—and spat violently. + </p> + <p> + “Say! Hold on! Wait a minute!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins darted off up-stairs. I could hear him bounding along, two steps + at a time, until he reached the top. + </p> + <p> + Silence ensued for a few seconds, save for an exclamation here and there, + as one or another of the guests discovered that his or her neck or ear or + arm was smarting. + </p> + <p> + Then the servants piled up from below. They, too, were wet and frightened. + They, too, had discovered that the liquid emitted by the Hawkins + Chemico-Sprinkler System bit into the human epidermis like fire. + </p> + <p> + “Phat is it? Phat is it?” the cook was drearily intoning, when hurrying + footsteps turned my attention once more to the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins was coming down at a gallop. In his arms he carried a keg, which + dribbled white powder over the beautiful carpet. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he shouted to me. “That ball didn't bust!” + </p> + <p> + “It didn't?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “No! There's no marble dust in the stuff!” said the inventor, landing on + the floor with a final jump and tearing into the parlor. “It's pure, + diluted sulphuric acid!” + </p> + <p> + “Acid!” shrieked a dozen ladies. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” groaned Hawkins, depositing his keg on the floor. “But we'll get + the best of it. William, bring up a wash-tub full of water! Mary, go get + all the washrags in the house! Quick!” + </p> + <p> + The homely household articles arrived within a minute or two. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” continued Hawkins, dumping half the keg into the tub. “That's + baking soda. It'll neutralize the acid. Here, everybody. Dip a rag in here + and wash off the acid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hang propriety and decency and conventionality and all the rest of + it!” he vociferated as some of the ladies, quite warrantably hung back. + “Get at the acid before it gets at you! Don't you—can't you + understand? It'll burn into your skin in a little while! Come on!” + </p> + <p> + There was no hesitation after that. Men and women alike made frantically + for the tub, dipped cloths in the liquid, and laved industriously hands + and arms and cheeks that were already sore and burning. + </p> + <p> + Picture the scene: a dozen women in evening dress, a dozen men in + “swallow-tails,” clustered around a wash-tub there in Hawkins' parlor, + working for dear life with the soaking cloths. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “<i>It was just the sort of thing that could happen under + Hawkins' roof, and nowhere else</i>."} + </p> + <p> + Ludicrous, impossible, it was just the sort of thing that could happen + under Hawkins' roof and nowhere else—barring perhaps a retreat for + the insane. + </p> + <p> + Later the excitement subsided. The ladies, disheveled as to hair, carrying + costumes whose glory had departed forever, retired to the chambers above + for such further repairs as might be possible. The men, too, under + William's guidance, went to draw upon Hawkins' wardrobe for clothes in + which to return home. + </p> + <p> + The inventor, Mr. Blodgett, and myself were left together in the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + That amiable old gentleman's coat—he is bitterly averse to undue + expenditure for clothes—had turned to a pale, rotting green. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's a good thing that was diluted acid instead of strong, isn't + it, Griggs?” remarked Hawkins. “Originally I had intended using the strong + acid, you know, for the reason——” + </p> + <p> + “Aaaah!” cried Mr. Blodgett. “So that was more of your imbecile inventing, + was it? Fire-extinguisher! Bah! I thought nobody but you could have + conceived the idea like that! What under the sun did you let off your + infernal contrivance for?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I just did it to spite you, papa,” said Hawkins, with weary sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “By George, sir, I believe you did!” snapped the old gentleman. “It's like + you! Look at my coat, sir! Look at——” + </p> + <p> + I was edging away when Mrs. Hawkins entered. She was clad in somber black + now, and her cheeks flamed scarlet with mortification. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear?” said Hawkins, bracing himself. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty mess you've made of our house-warming, haven't you? You and your + idiotic fire-extinguisher!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, my Chemico-Sprinkler System is one——” + </p> + <p> + “And not only the evening spoiled, and half our friends so enraged at you + that they'll never enter the house again, but do you know what you'll have + to pay for? Miss Mather's dress alone, I happen to know, cost two hundred + dollars! And Mrs. Gordon's gown came from Paris last week—four + hundred and fifty! And I was with Nellie Ridgeway the day she bought that + white satin dress she had on. It cost——” + </p> + <p> + “Glad of it!” interposed Blodgett, with a fiendish chuckle. “Serves him + jolly well right! If you'd listened to me fifteen years ago, Edith, when I + told you not to marry that fool——” + </p> + <p> + “Griggs! W-w-w-where are you going?” Hawkins called weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Home!” I said decidedly, making for the hall. “I think my wife's ready. + And I'm afraid my hair's loosening up, too, where your fire-extinguisher + wet it. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + “It's a good while since you've invented anything, isn't it, Hawkins?” I + had said the night before. + </p> + <p> + “Um-um,” Hawkins had murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Must be two months?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” Hawkins had smiled. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Life insurance companies on to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Um-ah,” Hawkins had replied. + </p> + <p> + “Or have you really given it up for good? It can't be, can it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-ho,” Hawkins had yawned, and there I stopped questioning him. + </p> + <p> + Satan himself must have concocted the business which sent me—or + started me—toward Philadelphia next morning. Perhaps, though, the + railroad company was as much to blame; they should have known better. + </p> + <p> + The man in the moon was no further from my thoughts than Hawkins as I + stepped ashore on the Jersey side of the ferry to take the train. Yet + there stood Hawkins in the station. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be fussing violently as he lingered by the door of one of the + offices. Unperceived, I came close enough to hear him murmur thrice in + succession something about “blamed nonsense—devilish red-tape.” + </p> + <p> + Surely something had worked him up. I wondered what it was. + </p> + <p> + As I watched, an apologetic-looking youth appeared in the door of the + office and handed Hawkins an official-appearing slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + The inventor snatched it impolitely and turned his back, while the youth + gazed after him for a moment and then returned to the office. + </p> + <p> + “Set of confounded idiots!” Hawkins remarked wrathfully. + </p> + <p> + Then, ere I could disappear, he spied me. + </p> + <p> + “Aha, Griggs, you here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not,” I said flatly. “If there's any trouble brewing, Hawkins, + consider me back in New York. What has excited you?” + </p> + <p> + “Excited me? Those fool railroad officials are enough to drive a man to + the asylum. Did you see how they kept me standing outside that door?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, did you want to stand inside the door, Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want to stand anywhere in the neighborhood of their infernal + door! The idea of making me get a permit to ride on an engine! Me!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how else you'd manage it, Hawkins, unless you applied for a + job as fireman. Why on earth do you want to ride on a locomotive?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's not a locomotive, Griggs. You don't understand. Where are you + bound for?” + </p> + <p> + “Philadelphia.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten:ten?” Hawkins cried eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Ten:ten,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Then, by George, you'll be with us! You'll see the whole show!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins caught my coat-sleeve and dragged me toward the train-gates. + </p> + <p> + “See, here,” I said, detaining him, “what whole show?” + </p> + <p> + “The—oh, come and see it before we start.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” I said firmly. “Not until I know what it is. Are you going to + play any monkey-shines with the locomotive, Hawkins? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “But why don't you come and see for yourself?” the inventor cried + impatiently. “It's—it's——” + </p> + <p> + He paused for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's the Hawkins Alcomotive!” he added. + </p> + <p> + “And what under heavens is the Hawkins——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you don't suppose I'm carrying scale drawings of the thing on me, + do you? You don't suppose that I'm prepared to give a demonstration with + magic lantern pictures on the spot? If you want to see it, come and see + it. If not, you'd better get into your train. It's ten:three now.” + </p> + <p> + I knew no way of better utilizing the remaining seven minutes. I walked or + rather trotted—after Hawkins, through the gates, down the platform, + and along by the train until we reached the locomotive—or the place + where a decent, God-fearing locomotive should have been standing. + </p> + <p> + The customary huge iron horse was not in sight. + </p> + <p> + In its place stood what resembled a small flat-car. On the car I observed + an affair which resembled something an enthusiastic automobilist might + have conceived in a lobster salad nightmare. + </p> + <p> + It was, I presume, merely an abnormally large automobile engine; and along + each side of it ran a big cylindrical tank. + </p> + <p> + “There, Griggs!” said Hawkins. “That doesn't look much like the + old-fashioned, clumsy locomotive, does it?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say it didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's a little rough in finish—just a trial Alcomotive, + you know—but it's going to do one thing to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is?” + </p> + <p> + “It's going to sound the solemn death-knell of the old steam locomotive,” + said Hawkins, evidently feeling some compassion for the time-honored + engine. + </p> + <p> + “But will that thing pull a train? Is that the notion?” + </p> + <p> + “Notion! It's no notion—it's a simple, mathematical certainty, my + dear Griggs. In that Alcomotive—it's run by vapors of alcohol, you + know—we have sufficient power to pull fifteen parlor cars, twelve + loaded day-coaches, twenty ordinary flat-cars, eighteen box-cars, or + twenty-seven——” + </p> + <p> + “'Board for Newark, Elizabeth, Trenton, Philadelphia, and all points + south,” sang out the man at the gates. + </p> + <p> + He was lying, but he didn't know it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess it's—it's time to start,” Hawkins concluded rather + nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, may the Lord have mercy on your soul, Hawkins,” I said feelingly. + “Good-by. I'll be along on the next train—whenever that is.” + </p> + <p> + “What! You're coming on the Alcomotive with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Not on your life, Hawkins!” I cried energetically. “If this railroad + wishes to trust its passengers and rolling-stock and road-bed to your + alcohol machine, that's their business. But they've got a hanged sight + more confidence in you than I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'll have confidence enough before the day's over,” said the + inventor, grabbing me with some determination. “For once, I'll get the + best of your sneers. You come along!” + </p> + <p> + “Let go!” I shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Hawkins to the mechanic who was warily eying the Alcomotive, + “help Mr. Griggs up.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins boosted and the man grabbed me. In a second or two I stood on the + car, and Hawkins clambered up beside me. + </p> + <p> + Had I but regained my breath a second or two sooner—had I but + collected my senses sufficiently to jump! + </p> + <p> + But I was a little too bewildered by the suddenness of my elevation to act + for the moment. As I stood there, gasping, I heard Hawkins say: + </p> + <p> + “What's that conductor waving his hands for?” + </p> + <p> + “He—he wants you to start up,” tittered the engineer. “We are two + minutes late as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's it?” said Hawkins gruffly. “He needn't get so excited about + it. Why, positively, that man looks as if he was swearing! If I——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say, you better start up,” put in the engineer. “I may get blamed + for this.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins opened a valve—he turned a crank—he pulled back a + lever or two. + </p> + <p> + The Alcomotive suddenly left the station. So, abruptly, in fact, did the + train start that my last vision of the end brakeman revealed him rolling + along the platform in a highly undignified fashion, while the engineer sat + at my feet in amazement as I clutched the side of the car. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess we started enough to suit him!” observed Hawkins grimly, as + we whizzed past towers and banged over switches in our exit from the yard. + </p> + <p> + We certainly were started. Whatever subsequent disadvantages may have + developed in the Alcomotive, it possessed speed. + </p> + <p> + In less time than it takes to tell it, we were whirling over the marshes, + swaying from side to side, tearing a long hole in the atmosphere, I fancy; + and certainly almost jarring the teeth from my head. + </p> + <p> + “How's this for time?” cried the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right for t-t-t-time,” I stuttered. “But——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that part's all right,” yelled the engineer, who had been ruthlessly + detailed to assist. “But say, mister, how about the time-table?” + </p> + <p> + “What about it?” demanded Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the other trains ain't arranged to give with this + ninety-mile-an-hour gait.” + </p> + <p> + “They should be. I told the railroad people that I intended to break a few + records.” + </p> + <p> + “But I guess they didn't know—we may smash into something, mister, + and——” + </p> + <p> + “Not my fault,” said the inventor. “If we do by any chance have a + collision, the railroad people are to blame. But we won't. I can stop this + machine and the whole train in two hundred feet. That's another great + point about the Alcomotive, Griggs—the Alcobrakes. You see, when I + shut off the engine proper, all the power goes into the brakes. It is thus——” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, mister,” the engineer shouted again, “here's Newark!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, so it is!” murmured Hawkins, with a pleased smile. “Really, I had no + notion that we'd be here so soon.” + </p> + <p> + I will say it for Hawkins that he managed to stop the affair at Newark in + very commendable fashion. It seems so remarkable that one of his + contrivances should have exhibited that much amenity to control that it is + worthy of note. + </p> + <p> + Some of the passengers who alighted to be sure, exhibited signs of hard + usage. There were visible bruises in several cases, due, presumably, to + the slightly startling suddenness with which our trip began. + </p> + <p> + But Hawkins was blind to anything of that sort. + </p> + <p> + “Now, wasn't that fine?” he said proudly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—we're here—and alive,” was about all I could say. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how it feels to be back in the cars. Let's try it,” proposed + Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “But say, mister,” said the engineer, “who's going to run the darned + machine, if you're not here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you, my man. You understand an engine of this sort, don't you? But + of course you do. Here! This is the valve for the alcohol—this is + the igniter—here are the brakes—this is the speed control. + See? Oh, you won't find any difficulty in managing it. The Alcomotive is + simplicity on wheels.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I've got a wife and family——” the unhappy man began. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Hawkins, icily. + </p> + <p> + “And if the thing should balk——” + </p> + <p> + “Balk! Rats! Come, Griggs. It's time you started, my man. I'll wave my + hand when we reach the car.” + </p> + <p> + Frankly, I think that it was a downright contemptible trick to play on the + defenceless engineer. Had I been able to render him any assistance, I + should have stayed with him. + </p> + <p> + But Hawkins was already trotting back to the cars, and, with a murmured + benediction for the hapless mechanic who stood and trembled alone on the + platform of the Alcomotive, I followed. + </p> + <p> + We took seats in one of the cars. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why doesn't he start?” muttered the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe the fright has killed him,” I suggested. “It's enough——” + </p> + <p> + Bang! + </p> + <p> + The Alcomotive had sprung into action once more. People slid out of their + seats with the shock, others toppled head over heels into the aisle, the + porter went down unceremoniously upon his sable countenance and crushed + into pulp the plate of tongue sandwich he had been carrying. + </p> + <p> + But the Alcomotive was going—that was enough for Hawkins. He sat + back and watched the scenery slide by kinetoscope fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Lord, where's the old locomotive now?” he laughed pityingly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't shout till you're out of the wood, Hawkins,” I cautioned him. “We + haven't reached Philadelphia yet.” + </p> + <p> + “But can't you see that we're going to? Won't that poor little mind of + yours grapple with the fact that the Hawkins Alcomotive is a success—a + <i>success?</i> Can't you feel the train shooting along——” + </p> + <p> + “I can feel that well enough,” I said dubiously; “but suppose——” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose nothing! What have you to croak about now, Griggs? Actually, + there are times when you really make me physically weary. See here! The + Alcomotive supersedes the locomotive first, in point of weight; second, in + point of speed; third, in economy of operation; fourth, it is absolutely + safe and easy to manage. + </p> + <p> + “No complicated machinery—nothing to slip and smash at critical + moments—perfect ease of control. Why, if that fellow really wished + to stop—here, now, at this minute——” + </p> + <p> + Whether the fellow wished it or not, he stopped—there, then, at that + minute! + </p> + <p> + We stopped with such an almighty thud that it seemed as if the cars must + fly into splinters. They rattled and shook and cracked. The passengers + executed further acrobatic feats upon the floor; they clutched at things + and fell over things and swore and gurgled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, by thunder!” ejaculated Hawkins. That was about the mildest remark + I heard at the time. “What do you suppose he did?” + </p> + <p> + “Give it up,” I said, caressing the egg-like eminence that had appeared + upon my brow as if by magic. “Probably he fell into the infernal thing, + and it has stopped to show him up.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! We'll have to see what's happened. Come, we'll go through the + cars. It's quicker.” + </p> + <p> + We ran through the coaches until we had reached the front of the train. + Hawkins went out upon the platform. + </p> + <p> + The Alcomotive was apparently intact. The engineer stood over the + machinery, white as chalk, and his lips mumbled incoherently. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” cried Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “How'n blazes do I know?” demanded the engineer. + </p> + <p> + “But didn't you stop her?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. She—she stopped herself.” + </p> + <p> + “What perfect idiocy!” cried the inventor “You must have done something!” + </p> + <p> + “I did not!” retorted the engineer. “The blamed thing just stood + stock-still and near bumped the life out of me! Say, mister, you come up + here and see what——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's nothing serious, my man. Now, let me think. What could have + happened? Er—just try that lever at your right hand.” + </p> + <p> + “This one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; pull it gently.” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't we better git them people out o' the train first?” asked the + engineer. “You know, if anything happens, people just love to sue a + railroad company for damages, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Pull that lever!” Hawkins cried angrily. + </p> + <p> + The man took a good grip, murmured something which sounded like a prayer, + and pulled. + </p> + <p> + Nothing happened. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's queer!” muttered Hawkins. “Doesn't it seem to have any + effect?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, try that small one at your left. Pull it back half way.” + </p> + <p> + The man obeyed. + </p> + <p> + For a second or two the Alcomotive emitted a string of consumptive coughs. + One or two parts moved spasmodically and seemed to be reaching for the + engineer. The man dodged. + </p> + <p> + Then the Alcomotive began to back! + </p> + <p> + “Here! Here! Something's wrong!” cried Hawkins, as the accursed thing + gathered speed. “Push that back where it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Nit!” yelled the engineer, picking up his coat and running to the side of + the car. “I ain't going to make my wife a widow for no darned invention or + no darned job! See?” + </p> + <p> + “You're not going to jump?” squealed the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “You bet I am!” replied the mechanic, making a flying leap. + </p> + <p> + He was gone. + </p> + <p> + The Alcomotive was now without any semblance of a controlling hand. + </p> + <p> + There was no way for Hawkins to reach the contrivance, for the car was + four or five feet distant from the train proper, and to attempt a leap or + a climb to the Alcomotive, with the whole affair rocking and swaying as it + was, would simply have been to pave the way for a neat “Herbert Hawkins” + on the marble block of their plot in Greenwood Cemetery. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what under the sun——” began Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! This train! The people!” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Well—well—well—let us find the conductor. He'll know + what to do!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he can't stop the machine—and we're backing along at + certainly fifty miles an hour; and any minute we may run into the next + train behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Come! Come! Find the conductor!” + </p> + <p> + We found him very easily. + </p> + <p> + The conductor was running through the train toward us as we reached the + second car, and his face was the face of a fear-racked maniac. + </p> + <p> + “What's happened?” he shrieked. “Why on earth are we backing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see——” Hawkins began. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, stop your machine! You're the man who owns it, aren't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly. But you see, the mechanism has—er—slipped + somewhere—nothing serious, of course—and——” + </p> + <p> + “Serious!” roared the railroad man. “You call it nothing serious for us to + be flying along backwards and the Washington express coming up behind at a + mile a minute!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! Is it?” Hawkins faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Can't you stop her—anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not that I know—why, see here!” A smile of relief illumined + Hawkins' face. + </p> + <p> + “Well? Quick, man!” + </p> + <p> + “We can have a brakeman detach the Alcomotive!” + </p> + <p> + “And what good'll that do, when she's pushing the train?” + </p> + <p> + “True, true!” groaned the inventor. “I didn't think of that!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to bring every one into these forward cars,” announced the + conductor. “It's the only chance of saving a few lives when the crash + comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Lives,” moaned Hawkins dazedly. “Is there really any danger of——” + </p> + <p> + The conductor was gone. Hawkins sank upon a seat and gasped and gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Griggs, Griggs!” he sobbed. “If I had only known! If I could have + foreseen this!” + </p> + <p> + “If you ever could foresee anything!” I said bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “But it's partly—yes, it's all that cursed engineer's fault!” + </p> + <p> + People began to troop into the car. They came crushing along in droves, + frightened to death, some weeping, some half-mad with terror. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins surveyed them with much the expression of Napoleon arriving in + Hades. The conductor approached once more. + </p> + <p> + “They're all in here,” he said resignedly. “Thank Heaven, there are two + freight cars on the rear of the train! That may do a little good! But that + express! Man, man! What have you done!” + </p> + <p> + “Did he do it? Is it his fault?” cried a dozen voices. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, no!” shrieked the inventor. “He's lying!” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better tell the truth now, man,” said the conductor sadly. “You may + not have much longer to tell it.” + </p> + <p> + “Lynch him!” yelled some one. + </p> + <p> + There was a move toward Hawkins. I don't know where it might have ended. + Very likely they would have suspended Hawkins from one of the ventilators + and pelted him with hand satchels—and very small blame to them had + there been time. + </p> + <p> + But just as the crowd moved—well, then I fancied that the world had + come to an end. + </p> + <p> + There was a shock, terrific beyond description—window panes + clattered into the car—the whole coach was hurled from the tracks + and slid sideways for several seconds. + </p> + <p> + Above us the roof split wide open and let in the sunlight. Passengers were + on the seats, the floor, on their heads! + </p> + <p> + Then, with a final series of creaks and groans, all was still. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins and I were near the ragged opening which had once been a door. We + climbed out to the ground and looked about us. + </p> + <p> + Providence had been very kind to Hawkins. The Washington express was + standing, unexpectedly, at a water tank—part of it, at least. Her + huge locomotive lay on its side. + </p> + <p> + Our two freight cars and two more passenger cars with them were piled up + in kindling wood. Even the next car was derailed and badly smashed. + </p> + <p> + The Alcomotive, too, reclined upon one side and blazed merrily, a fitting + tailpiece to the scene. + </p> + <p> + But not a soul had been killed—we learned that from one of the + groups which swarmed from the express, after a muster had been taken of + our own passengers. It was a marvel—but a fact. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins and I edged away slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Let's get out o' this!” he whispered hoarsely. “There's that infernal + conductor. He seems to be looking for some one.” + </p> + <p> + We did get out of it. In the excitement we sneaked down by the express, + past it, and struck into the hills. + </p> + <p> + Eventually we came out upon the trolley tracks and waited for the car + which took us back to Jersey City. + </p> + <p> + Now, there is really more of this narrative. + </p> + <p> + The pursuit of Hawkins by the railroad people—their discovery of him + at his home that night—the painful transaction by which he was + compelled to surrender to them all his holdings in that particular road—the + commentary of Mrs. Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + There is, as I say, more of it. But, on the whole, it is better left + untold. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + I may have mentioned that it was customary for Hawkins and myself to + travel down-town together on the elevated six days in the week. + </p> + <p> + So far as that goes, we still do so; for it has come over me recently that + any attempt to dodge the demoniac inventions of Hawkins is about as + thankless and hopeless a task as seeking to avoid the setting of the sun. + </p> + <p> + For two or three mornings, however, I had been leaving the house some ten + or fifteen minutes earlier than usual. + </p> + <p> + There had lately appeared the old, uncanny light in Hawkins' eye; and if + trouble were impending, it was my fond, foolish hope to be out of its way—until + such time, at least, as the police or the coroner should call me up on the + telephone to identify all that was mortal of Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + Three days, then, my strategy had been crowned with success. I had eluded + Hawkins and ridden down alone, the serene enjoyment of my paper + unpunctuated by dissertations upon the practicability of condensing the + clouds for commercial purposes, or the utilization of atmospheric nitrogen + in the manufacture of predigested breakfast food. + </p> + <p> + But upon the fourth morning a fuse blew out under the car before we left + the station; and as I sat there fussing about the delay, in walked + Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + He was beaming and cheerful, but the glitter in his eye had grown more + intense. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Griggs,” he exclaimed, “I've missed you lately!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you haven't lost weight over it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no. I've been busy—very busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Rush of business?” + </p> + <p> + “Um—ah—yes. Griggs!” + </p> + <p> + It was coming! + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said hurriedly, “have you followed this matter of the Panama + Canal?” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins stared hard at me for a moment; then I gave him another push, and + he toppled into the canal and wallowed about in its waters until the ride + was over. + </p> + <p> + Unhappily, my own place of business is located farther down upon the same + street with the Blank Building, where Hawkins has—or had—offices. + There was no way of avoiding it—I was forced to walk with him. + </p> + <p> + But the suppressed enthusiasm in Hawkins didn't come out, and I felt + rather more easy. Whatever it was, I fancied that he had left the material + part of it at home, and home lay many blocks up-town. I was safe. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” I smiled when we reached his entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” Hawkins responded. “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear fellow——” + </p> + <p> + “You come,” commanded the inventor. “There's something in here I want you + to see.” + </p> + <p> + He led me in and past the line of elevators. + </p> + <p> + So we were not going up to his offices! We seemed to be heading for the + cigar booth, and for a moment I fancied that Hawkins had discovered a new + brand and was going to treat me; but he piloted me farther, to a door, and + opened it and we passed through. + </p> + <p> + Then I perceived where we were. The Blank Building people had been + constructing an addition to their immense stack of offices; we stood in + the freshly completed and wholly unoccupied annex. + </p> + <p> + “There, sir!” said Hawkins, extending his forefinger. “What do you see, + Griggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Six empty barrels, about three wagon-loads of kindling wood, a new tiled + floor, and six brand-new elevators,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hang those things! Look—where I'm pointing!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! somebody's left a packing-box in one of the elevator-shafts, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Certainly, more than anything else, that was what it resembled. + </p> + <p> + At the first glance it appeared to be nothing more than a crude wooden + case about the size of an elevator car, standing in one of the shafts and + contrasting unpleasantly with the other new, shining polished cars. + </p> + <p> + “Packing—ugh!” snapped the inventor “Do you know what that is?” + </p> + <p> + “You turned down my first guess,” I suggested humbly. + </p> + <p> + “Griggs, what appears to you as a packing-box is nothing more nor less + than the first and only Hawkins Hydro-Vapor Lift!” + </p> + <p> + “The which?” + </p> + <p> + “The—Hawkins—Hydro—Vapor—Lift!” + </p> + <p> + “Hydro-Vapor?” I murmured. “Whatever is that? Steam?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “And lift, I presume, is English for elevator?” + </p> + <p> + “The words are synonymous,” said Hawkins coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Then why the dickens didn't you call it a steam elevator and be done with + it? Wasn't that sufficiently complicated?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Griggs, you never seem able to understand! Now, a steam elevator—so + called—is an old proposition. A Hydro-Vapor Lift is entirely new and + sounds distinctive!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it sounds queer enough,” I admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Just examine it,” said the inventor joyously, leading me to the box. + </p> + <p> + There was not much to be examined. Four walls, a ceiling and a floor—all + of undressed wood—that was about the extent of the affair; but in + the center of the floor lay a great circular iron plate, some two feet + across and festooned near the edge with a circle of highly unornamental + iron bolt heads. + </p> + <p> + Beside the plate, a lever rising perpendicularly from the floor + constituted the sole furnishing of the car. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you've seen a hydraulic elevator?” Hawkins began. “You know how they + work—a big steel shaft pushed up the car from underneath, so that + when it is in operation the car is simply a box standing on the end of a + pole, which rises or sinks, as the operator wills.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so,” I assented. “I think it's time now for me to be go——” + </p> + <p> + “That principle is fallacious!” the inventor exclaimed. “Consider what it + would mean here—a steel shaft sixteen stories high, weighing tons + and tons!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I have reversed that idiotic idea!” Hawkins announced + triumphantly. “I have had a hole dug sixteen stories deep, and put the + steel shaft down into it.” + </p> + <p> + It was about what one might have expected from Hawkins; but despite my + long acquaintance with his bizarre mental machinery, I stood and gasped in + sheer amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” pursued the inventor. “I have had a steel tube made, a little + longer than the shaft, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Even longer than sixteen stories?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. The tube fits the shaft exactly, just as an engine cylinder + fits the plunger. The elevator stands upon the upper end of the tube. We + let steam into the tube by operating this lever, which controls my patent, + reversible steam-release. What happens? Why, the tube is forced upward and + the elevator rises. I let out some of the steam—and the tube sinks + down into the ground! That iron plate which you see is the manhole cover + of the tube, as it were—it corresponds, of course, to the + cylinder-head on an engine.” + </p> + <p> + As the novelist puts it, I stood aghast. + </p> + <p> + It overwhelmed me utterly—the idea that in a great, sane city like + New York an irresponsible maniac could be permitted to dig a hole sixteen + stories deep under a new office building and then fill up that hole with a + shaft and a tube such as Hawkins had just described. + </p> + <p> + “And the people who own this place—did they allow you to do it, or + have you been chloroforming the watchman and working at night?” I + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be absurd, Griggs,” said Hawkins. “I pay a big rent here. The + owners were very nice about it.” + </p> + <p> + They must have been—exceedingly so, I thought; nice to the point of + imbecility. Had they known Hawkins as I know him, they would joyfully have + handed him back his lease, given him a substantial cash bonus to boot, and + even have thrown in a non-transferable Cook's Tour ticket to Timbuctoo + before they allowed him to embark on the project. + </p> + <p> + It would have been a low sort of trick upon Timbuctoo, but it would have + saved them money and trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Hawkins said sharply, breaking in upon my reverie. “Don't stand + there mooning. Did you ever see anything like it before?” + </p> + <p> + “Once, when I was a child,” I confessed, “I fell while climbing a + flagpole, and that night I dreamed——” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! Come along and watch her work.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” I protested. “Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, why not?” cried Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “My wife,” I murmured. “She cannot spare me, Hawkins, you know—not + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there isn't the slightest element of danger,” the inventor argued. + “Surely, Griggs, even you must be able to grasp that. Can't you see that + that is the chief beauty of the Hydro-Vapor Lift? There are no cables to + break! That's the great feature. This car may be loaded with ton after + ton; but if she's overloaded, she simply stops. There are no risky + wire-ropes to snap and let down the whole affair.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but there are no wire-ropes to hold her up, either, and——” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins snorted angrily. Then he grabbed me bodily and forced me along + toward the door of his Hydro-Vapor Lift. + </p> + <p> + “Actually, you do make me tired,” he said. “You seem to think that + everybody is conspiring to take your wretched little life!” + </p> + <p> + “But what have you against me?” I asked mournfully. “Why not let me out + and do your experimenting alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—Lord knows why I'm doing it, you're not important enough to + warrant it—I'm bound to convince you that this contrivance is all + that I claim!” + </p> + <p> + Oh, had I but spent the days of my youth in a strenuous gymnasium! Had I + but been endowed with muscle beyond the dreams of Eugene Sandow, and been + expert in boxing and wrestling and in the breaking of bones, as are the + Japanese! + </p> + <p> + Then I could have fallen upon Hawkins from the rear and tied him into + knots, and even dismembered him if necessary—and escaped. + </p> + <p> + But things are what they are, and Hawkins is more than a match for me; so + he banged the door angrily and grasped the lever. + </p> + <p> + “Now, observe with great care the superbly gentle motion with which she + rises,” he instructed me. + </p> + <p> + I prepared for that familiar + head-going-up-and-the-rest-of-you-staying-below sensation and gritted my + teeth. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins pulled at the lever. The Hydro-Vapor Lift quivered for an instant. + Then it ascended the shaft—and very gently and pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “There! I suppose you've trembled until your collar-buttons have worked + loose?” Hawkins said contemptuously, turning on me. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite that,” I murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may as well stop. In a moment or two we shall have reached the + top floor; and there, if you like, you can get out and climb down sixteen + flights of stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” I said sincerely. + </p> + <p> + “This, of course, is only the slow speed,” Hawkins continued. “We can + increase it with the merest touch. Watch.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait! I like it better slow!” I protested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll slacken down again in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins gave a mighty push to the controlling apparatus. A charge of + dynamite seemed to have been exploded beneath the Hydro-Vapor Lift! + </p> + <p> + Up we shot! I watched the freshly painted numbers between floors as they + whizzed by us with shuddering apprehension: 9—10—11—12—— + </p> + <p> + “We're going too fast!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins, I think, was about to laugh derisively. His head had turned to + me, and his lips had curled slightly—when the Hydro-Vapor Lift + stopped with such tremendous suddenness that we almost flew up against the + roof of the car. + </p> + <p> + That was the law of inertia at work. Then we descended to the floor with a + crash that seemed calculated to loosen it. That was the law of + gravitation. + </p> + <p> + I presume that Hawkins figured without them. + </p> + <p> + I was the first to sit up. For a time my head revolved too rapidly for + anything like coherent perception. Then, as the stars began to fade away, + I saw that we were stuck fast between floors; and before my eyes—large + and prominent in the newness of its paint—loomed up the number 13. + </p> + <p> + It looked ominous. + </p> + <p> + “We—we seem to have stopped,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” snapped Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “What was it? Do you suppose anything was sticking out into the shaft? Has—can + it be possible that there is anything like a mechanical error in your + Hydro-Vapor Lift?” + </p> + <p> + “No! It's that blamed fool of an engineer!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” I exclaimed. “Do you blame him?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “But how was it his fault?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—you see—bah!” said the inventor, turning rather red. “You + wouldn't understand if I were to explain the whole thing, Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + “But I should like to know, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to write a little account of the why and the wherefore, so that + they can find it in case—anything happens to us.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins turned away loftily. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to get out of this,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He pulled at his lever with a confident smile. The Hydro-Vapor Lift did + not budge the fraction of an inch. + </p> + <p> + Then he pushed it back—and forward again. And still the inexorable + 13 stood before us. + </p> + <p> + “Confound that—er—engineer!” growled the inventor. + </p> + <p> + Just then the Hydro-Vapor Lift indulged in a series of convulsive + shudders. + </p> + <p> + It was too much for my nerves. I felt certain that in another second we + were to drop, and I shouted lustily: + </p> + <p> + “Help! Help! Help!” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” cried Hawkins. “Do you want to get the workmen here and have + them see that something's wrong?” + </p> + <p> + I affirmed that intention with unprintable force. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't!” said the inventor. “Why, Griggs, I'm figuring on + equipping this building with my lift in a couple of months!” + </p> + <p> + “Are—are they going to allow that?” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothing's settled as yet; but it is understood that if this + experimental model proves a success——” + </p> + <p> + But my cry had summoned aid. Above us, and hidden by the roof of the car, + some one shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! Phat is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” I returned. + </p> + <p> + “Air ye in the box?” said the voice, its owner evidently astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Get an ax!” + </p> + <p> + “Phat?” + </p> + <p> + “An ax!” I repeated. “Get an ax and chop out the roof of this beastly + thing so that we can climb out, and——” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins clapped a hand over my mouth, and his scowl was sinister. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you a grain of sense left?” he hissed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, I have. That's why I want an ax to——” + </p> + <p> + “Tell that crazy engineer I want more steam!” bawled Hawkins, drowning my + voice. + </p> + <p> + “More steam?” said the person above. “More steam an' an ax, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no ax. Tell him I want more steam, and I want it quick! He's got + so little pressure that we're stuck!” + </p> + <p> + We heard the echo of departing footsteps. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you'd have made a nice muddle, wouldn't you?” snarled the inventor. + “We'd have made a nice sight clambering out through a hole in the top of + this car!” + </p> + <p> + “There are times,” I said, “when appearance don't count for much.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this isn't one of them,” rejoined the inventor sourly. + </p> + <p> + I did not reply. There was nothing that occurred to me that wouldn't have + offended Hawkins, so I kept silence. + </p> + <p> + We stood there for a period of minutes, but the Hydro-Vapor Lift seemed + disinclined to move either up or down. + </p> + <p> + Once or twice Hawkins gave a push at his lever; but that part of the + apparatus seemed permanently to have retired from active business. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we move soon?” I inquired, when the stillness became oppressive. + </p> + <p> + “Presently,” growled Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + Another long pause, and I hazarded again: + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it growing warm?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is! Ah! The heat is coming from that plate!” I exclaimed, as it + dawned upon me that the big iron thing was radiating warm waves through + the stuffy little car. “Your Hydro-Vapor Lift will be pleasant to ride in + when the thermometer runs up in August, won't it?” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins did not deign to reply, and I fell to examining the plate. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” I said, “isn't that steam?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't what steam?” + </p> + <p> + “Down there,” I replied, pointing to the plate. + </p> + <p> + A fine jet of vapor was curling from one point at its edge—a thin + spout of hot steam! + </p> + <p> + “That's nothing,” said Hawkins. “Little leak—nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “But there's another now!” + </p> + <p> + “Positively, Griggs, I think you have the most active imagination I ever + knew in an otherwise——” + </p> + <p> + “Use your eyes,” I said uneasily. “There's another—and still + another!” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins bent over the plate—as much to hide the concern which + appeared upon his face as for any other reason, I think. + </p> + <p> + He arose rather suddenly, for a cloud of steam saluted him from a new + spot. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “she's leaking a trifle.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “The plate isn't steam-tight, of course; and the engineer's sending us + more pressure.” + </p> + <p> + His composure had returned by this time, and he regarded me with such + contemptuous eyes that I could find no answer. + </p> + <p> + But Hawkins' contempt couldn't shut off the steam. It blew out harder and + harder from the leaky spots. The little car began to fill, and the + temperature rose steadily. + </p> + <p> + From a comfortable warmth it increased to an uncomfortable warmth; then to + a positively intolerable, reeking wet heat. + </p> + <p> + I removed my coat, and a little later my vest. Hawkins did likewise. We + both found some difficulty in breathing. + </p> + <p> + The steam grew thicker, the car hotter and hotter. Perspiration was oozing + from every pore in my body. Sparkling little rivulets coursed down + Hawkins' countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins,” I said, “if you'd called this thing the Hydro-Vapor Bath + instead of Lift——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be witty,” Hawkins said coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. It may be a bit unreliable as an elevator, but you can let it + out for steam-baths—fifty cents a ticket, you know, until you've + made up whatever the thing cost.” + </p> + <p> + Bzzzzzzzzzz! said the steam. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to shout for that ax again,” I said determinedly. “Ten minutes + more of this and we'll be cooked alive!” + </p> + <p> + “Now——” began the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins, I decline to be converted into stew simply to save your vanity. + He——” + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” shouted Hawkins, dancing away from his lever into a corner of the + car and regarding the iron plate with round eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, now?” I asked breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + A queer, roaring noise was coming from somewhere. The Hydro-Vapor affair + executed a series of blood-curdling shakes. From the edges of the plate + the steam hissed spitefully and with new vigor. + </p> + <p> + “That—that jackass of an engineer!” Hawkins sputtered. “He's sending + too much steam!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment I didn't quite catch the significance; then I faltered with + sudden weakness: + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins, you said that this plate corresponded to the cylinder-head of an + engine? Then the tube beneath us is full of steam?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “And if we get too much steam—as we seem to be getting it—will + the plate blow off?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no—yes—no, of course not,” answered Hawkins + faintly. “It's bolted down with——” + </p> + <p> + “But if it should,” I said, dashing the streaming perspiration from my + eyes for another look at the accursed plate. + </p> + <p> + “If it should,” the inventor admitted, “we'd either go up to Heaven on it, + or we'd stay here and drop!” + </p> + <p> + “Help!” I screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Look out! Look out! Hug the wall!” Hawkins shrieked. + </p> + <p> + A mighty spasm shook the Hydro-Vapor Lift. I fell flat and rolled + instinctively to one side. Then, ere my bewildered senses could grasp what + was occurring, my ears were split by a terrific roar. + </p> + <p> + The roof of the car disappeared as if by magic, and through the opening + shot that huge, round plate of iron, seemingly wafted upon a cloud of + dense white vapor. Then the steam obscured all else, and I felt that we + were falling. + </p> + <p> + Yes, for an instant the car seemed to shudder uncertainly—then she + dropped! + </p> + <p> + I can hardly say more of our descent from the fatal thirteenth story. In + one second—not more, I am certain—twelve spots of light, + representing twelve floors, whizzed past us. + </p> + <p> + I recall a very definite impression that the Blank Building was making an + outrageous trip straight upward from New York; and I wondered how the + occupants were going to return and whether they would sue the building + people for detention from business. + </p> + <p> + But just as I was debating this interesting point, earthly concerns seemed + to cease. + </p> + <p> + In the cellar of the Blank Building annex a pile of excelsior and bagging + and other refuse packing materials protruded into the shaft where once had + been the Hawkins Hydro-Vapor Lift. That fact, I suppose, saved us from + eternal smash. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, I realized after a time that my life had been spared, and sat + up on the cement flooring of the cellar. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins was standing by a steel pillar, smiling blankly. Steam, by the + cubic mile, I think, was pouring from the flooring of the Hydro-Vapor Lift + and whirling up the shaft. + </p> + <p> + I struggled to my feet and tried to walk—and succeeded, very much to + my own astonishment. Shaken and bruised and half dead from the shock I + certainly was, but I could still travel. + </p> + <p> + I picked up my coat and turned to Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “I—I think I'll go home,” he said weakly. “I'm not well, Griggs.” + </p> + <p> + We ascended a winding stair and passed through a door at the top, and + instead of reaching the annex we stepped into the lower hall of the Blank + Building itself. + </p> + <p> + The place was full of steam. People were tearing around and yelling + “Fire!” at the top of their lungs. Women were screaming. Clerks were + racing back and forth with big books. + </p> + <p> + Older men appeared here and there, hurriedly making their exit with cash + boxes and bundles of documents. There was an exodus to jig-time going on + in the Blank Building. + </p> + <p> + Above it all, a certain man, his face convulsed with anger, shouted at the + crowd that there was no danger—no fire. Hawkins shrank as his eyes + fell upon this personage. + </p> + <p> + “Lord! That's one of the owners!” he said. “I'm going!” + </p> + <p> + We, too, made for the door, and had almost attained it when a heavy hand + fell upon the shoulder of Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “You're the man I'm looking for!” said the hard, angry tones of the + proprietor. “You come back with me! D'ye know what you've done? Hey? D'ye + know that you've ruined that elevator shaft? D'ye know that a + thousand-pound casting dropped on our roof and smashed it and wrecked two + offices? Oh, you won't slip out like that.” He tightened his grip on + Hawkins' shoulder. “You've got a little settling to do with me, Mr. + Hawkins. And I want that man who was with you, too, for——” + </p> + <p> + That meant me! A sudden swirl of steam enveloped my person. When it had + lifted, I was invisible. + </p> + <p> + For my only course had seemed to fold my tents like the Arabs and as + silently steal away; only I am certain that no Arab ever did it with + greater expedition and less ostentation than I used on that particular + occasion. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + I had intended it for a peaceful, solitary walk up-town after business on + that beautiful Saturday afternoon; and had in fact accomplished the better + part of it. I was inhaling huge quantities of the balmy air and reveling + in the exhilaration of the exercise. + </p> + <p> + But passing the picture store, I experienced a queer sensation—perhaps + “that feeling of impending evil” we read about in the patent medicine + advertisements. + </p> + <p> + It may have been because I recalled that in that very shop Hawkins had + demonstrated the virtues of his infallible Lightning Canvas-Stretcher, and + thereby ruined somebody's priceless and unpurchasable Corot. + </p> + <p> + At any rate my eyes were drawn to the place as I passed; and like a + cuckoo-bird emerging from the clock, out popped Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Griggs,” he exclaimed. “Out for a walk?” + </p> + <p> + “What were you doing in there?” + </p> + <p> + “Going to walk home?” + </p> + <p> + “Settling for that painting, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Because if you are, I'll go with you,” pursued Hawkins, falling into step + beside me and ignoring my remarks. + </p> + <p> + I told Hawkins that I should be tickled to death to have his company, + which was a lie and intended for biting sarcasm; but Hawkins took it in + good faith and was pleased. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Griggs,” he informed me, “there's nothing like this early + summer air to fill a man's lungs.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless it's cash to fill his pockets.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Cash?” said the inventor. “That reminds me. I must spend some this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Going to settle another damage suit?” + </p> + <p> + “I intend to order coal,” replied Hawkins frigidly. + </p> + <p> + He seemed disinclined to address me further; and I had no particular + yearning to hear his voice. We walked on in silence until within a few + blocks of home. + </p> + <p> + Then Hawkins paused at one of the cross-streets. + </p> + <p> + “The coal-yard is down this way, Griggs,” he said. “Come along. It won't + take more than five or ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Now, the idea of walking down to the coal-yard certainly seemed + commonplace and harmless. To me it suggested nothing more sinister than a + super-heated Irish lady perspiring over Hawkins' range in the dog days. + </p> + <p> + At least, it suggested nothing more at the time, and I turned the corner + with Hawkins and walked on, unsuspecting. + </p> + <p> + Except that it belonged to a particularly large concern, the coal-yard + which Hawkins honored by his patronage was much like other coal-yards. The + high walls of the storage bins rose from the sidewalk, and there was the + conventional arch for the wagons, and the little, dingy office beside it. + </p> + <p> + Into the latter Hawkins made his way, while I loitered without. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins seemed to be upon good terms with the coal people. He and the men + in the office were laughing genially. + </p> + <p> + Through the open window I heard Hawkins file his order for four tons of + coal. Later some one said: “Splendid, Mr. Hawkins, splendid.” + </p> + <p> + Then somebody else said: “No, there seems to be no flaw in any + particular.” + </p> + <p> + And still later, the first voice announced that they would make the first + payment one week from to-day, at which Hawkins' voice rose with a sort of + pompous joy. + </p> + <p> + I paid very little heed to the scraps of conversation; but presently I + paid considerable attention to Hawkins, for while he had entered the coal + office a well-developed man, he emerged apparently deformed. + </p> + <p> + His chest seemed to have expanded something over a foot, and his nose had + attained an elevation that pointed his gaze straight to the skies. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Hawkins, what is it?” I asked. “Have they been inflating + you with gas in there?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon?” + </p> + <p> + “What has happened to swell your bosom? Is it the first payment?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you heard that, did you?” said the inventor, with a condescending + smile. “Yes, Griggs, I may confess to some slight satisfaction in that + payment. It is a matter of one thousand dollars—from the coal + people, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “But what for? Have you threatened to invent something for them, and now + are exacting blackmail to desist?” + </p> + <p> + “Tush, Griggs, tush!” responded Hawkins. “Do make some attempt to subdue + that inane wit. I fancy you'll feel rather cheap hearing that that + thousand dollars is the first payment on something I have invented!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I am selling the patent to these people. It is the Hawkins + Crano-Scale!” + </p> + <p> + “Crano-Scale?” I reflected. “What is it? A hair tonic?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that is about the deduction your mental apparatus would make!” + sneered the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “But can it be possible that you have constructed something that actually + works?” I cried. “And you've sold it—actually sold it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have sold it, and there's no 'actually' about it!” + </p> + <p> + And Hawkins stalked majestically away through the arch and into the yard + beyond. + </p> + <p> + The idea of one of Hawkins' inventions actually in practical operation was + almost too weird for conception. He must be heading for it; and if it + existed I must see it. + </p> + <p> + I followed. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins strode to the rear of the yard without turning. About us on every + side were high wooden walls, the storage bins of the company. + </p> + <p> + Up the side of one wall ran a ladder, and Hawkins commenced the + perpendicular ascent with the same matter-of-fact air that one would wear + in walking up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing that for? Exercise?” I called, when he paused some + twenty-five feet in the air. + </p> + <p> + “If you wish to see the Crano-Scale at work, follow me. If not, stay where + you are,” replied Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + Then he resumed his upward course; and having put something like + thirty-five feet between his person and the solid earth, he vanished + through a black doorway. + </p> + <p> + Climbing a straight ladder usually sets my hair on end; but this one I + tackled without hesitation, and in a very few seconds stood before the + door. + </p> + <p> + In the semi-darkness, I perceived that a wide ledge ran around the wall + inside, and that Hawkins was standing upon it, gazing upon the hundreds of + tons of coal below, and having something the effect of the Old Nick + himself glaring down into the pit. + </p> + <p> + “There she is!” said the inventor laconically, pointing across the gulf. + </p> + <p> + I made my way to his side and stared through the gloom. + </p> + <p> + Something seemed to loom up over there. + </p> + <p> + Presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the change, I perceived the arm + of a huge crane, from which was suspended an enormous scoop. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that mastodonic coal-scuttle?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. That's the Hawkins Crano-Scale.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does she do when she—er—crano-scales things, as it + were?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be able to understand in a moment. That coal-scuttle, as you call + it, is large enough to hold four tons. See? Well, the people in the yard + are going to want two tons of coal very shortly. What do they do?” + </p> + <p> + “Take it out, weigh it, and send it,” I hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. They simply adjust the controlling apparatus to the two-ton + point, and set the Crano-Scale going. The scoop dips down, picks up + exactly two tons of coal, and rises automatically as soon as the two tons + are in. After that the crane swings outward, dumps the coal in the wagon, + and there you have it—weighed and all! It has been in operation here + for one month,” Hawkins concluded complacently. + </p> + <p> + “And no one killed or maimed? No Crano-Scale widows or orphans?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Griggs, you are—Ha! She's starting!” + </p> + <p> + The Crano-Scale emitted an ear-piercing shriek. The big steel crane was in + motion. + </p> + <p> + I watched the thing. Gracefully the coal-scuttle dipped into the pile of + coal, dug for a minute, swung upward again. It turned, passed through a + big doorway in the side, and we could hear the coal rattling into the + wagon. + </p> + <p> + The Crano-Scale returned and swung ponderously in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + “There!” cried Hawkins triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “It works!” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + “You bet it works!” + </p> + <p> + “But it must cost something to run the thing,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Well—er—I'm paying for that part,” Hawkins acknowledged, + “until I've finished perfecting a motor particularly adapted for the + Crano-Scale, you see.” + </p> + <p> + I smiled audibly. I think that Hawkins was about to take exception to the + smile, but a voice from without bawled loudly: + </p> + <p> + “Two—tons—nut!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there she goes again!” said the inventor rapturously. + </p> + <p> + This time the Crano-Scale executed a sudden detour before descending. + Indeed, the thing came so painfully near to our perch that the wind was + perceptible, and when the giant coal-scuttle had passed and dropped, my + heart was hammering out a tattoo. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe this ledge is safe, Hawkins,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “But that thing came pretty close.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it won't act that way again. Watch! She's dumping into the wagon now! + Hear it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hear it. I see just what a beautiful success it is, Hawkins—really. + Let's go.” + </p> + <p> + “And now she's coming back!” cried the inventor, his eyes glued to the + remarkable contrivance. “Observe the ease—the grace—the + mechanical poise—the resistless quality of the Crano-Scale's motion! + See, Griggs, how she swings!” + </p> + <p> + I did see how she was swinging. It was precisely that which sent me nearer + to the ladder. + </p> + <p> + The Crano-Scale was returning to position, but with a series of erratic + swoops that seemed to close my throat. + </p> + <p> + The coal-scuttle whirled joyously about in the air—it was receding—no, + it was coming nearer! It paused for a second. Then, making a bee-line for + our little ledge, it dived through the air toward us. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, there, Hawkins!” I cried, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” said the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “But the cursed thing will smash us flat against the wall!” + </p> + <p> + “Tush! The automatic reacting clutch will——” + </p> + <p> + The Crano-Scale was upon us! For the merest fraction of a second it paused + and seemed to hesitate; then it struck the wall with a heavy bang; then + started to scrape its way along our ledge. + </p> + <p> + The wretched contraption was bent on shoving us off! + </p> + <p> + “What will we do?” I managed to shout. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—why—why—why——” Hawkins cried + breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + But, my course of action had been settled for me. The scoop of the + Crano-Scale caught me amidships, and I plunged downward into the coal. + </p> + <p> + That there was a considerable degree of shock attached to my landing may + easily be imagined. + </p> + <p> + But small coal, as I had not known before, is a reasonably soft thing to + fall on; and within a few seconds I sat up, perceived that I was soon to + order a new suit of clothes, and then looked about for Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + He was nowhere in the neighborhood, and I called aloud. + </p> + <p> + “We—ll?” came a voice from far above. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Hanging—to—the—scoop!” sang out the inventor. + </p> + <p> + And there, up near the roof, I located him, dangling from the Crano-Scale + coal-scuttle! + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do next?” I asked, with some interest. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I can't—can't hang on long here!” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, climb out and tell them to lower the crane!” screamed Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + I looked around. Right and left, before and behind, rose a mountain of + loose coal. I essayed to climb nimbly toward the door which the + Crano-Scale had used, and suddenly landed on my hands and knees. + </p> + <p> + “Are—you—out?” shrieked Hawkins. “I can't stick here!” + </p> + <p> + “And I can't get out!” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you—ouch!” + </p> + <p> + There was a dull, rattling whack beside me; bits of coal flew in all + directions. Hawkins had landed. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he exclaimed, sitting up. “I honestly believe, Griggs, that no man + was ever born on this earth with less resourcefulness than yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Which means that I should have climbed out and informed the people of + your plight?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you try it yourself, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + The inventor arose and started for the door with a very convincing and + elaborate display of indomitable energy. He planted his left foot firmly + on the side of the coal pile—and found that his left leg had + disappeared in the coal in a highly astonishing and undignified fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he remarked disgustedly, struggling free and shaking something + like a pound of coal dust from his person. “Perhaps—perhaps it's + more solid on the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “Try it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is better to try it and fail than to stand there like a + cigar-store Indian and offer fool suggestions!” snapped the inventor, + making a vicious attack at the opposite side of the pile. + </p> + <p> + It really did seem more substantial. Hawkins, by the aid of both hands, + both feet, his elbows, his knees, and possibly his teeth as well, managed + to scramble upward for a dozen feet or so. + </p> + <p> + But just as he was about to turn and gloat over his success, the + treacherous coal gave way once more. Hawkins went flat upon his face and + slid back to me, feet first. + </p> + <p> + When he arose he presented a remarkable appearance. + </p> + <p> + Light overcoat, pearl trousers, fancy vest—all were black as ink. + Hawkins' classic countenance had fared no better. His lips showed some + slight resemblance of redness, and his eyes glared wonderfully white; but + the rest of his face might have been made up for a minstrel show. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's devilish funny, isn't it?” he roared, sitting down again rather + suddenly as the coal slid again beneath his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Funny isn't the word. What's our next move to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Climb out, of course. There must be some place where we can get a + foothold.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not shout for help?” + </p> + <p> + “No use. Nobody could hear us down here. Go on, Griggs. Make your attempt. + I've done my part.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wish to see me repeat the performance? Thank you. No.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's the only way out.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” I said, “I'm afraid we're slated to spend the night here.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord! We can't do that!” + </p> + <p> + “I have a notion, Hawkins,” I went on, “that we not only can, but shall. + You say we can't attract any one's attention, and I guess you're right. + Hence, as there is no one to pull us out, and we can't pull ourselves out, + we shall remain here. That's logic, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's awful!” exclaimed the inventor. “Why, we may not get out to-morrow——” + </p> + <p> + “Nor the next day, nor the one after that. Exactly. We shall have to wait + until this wretched place is emptied, when they will find our bleaching + skeletons—if skeletons can bleach in a coal bin.” + </p> + <p> + Hawkins blinked his sable eyelids at me. + </p> + <p> + “Or we might go to work and pile all the coal on one side of the bin,” I + continued. “It wouldn't take more than a week or so, throwing it over by + handfuls; and when at last they found that your crano-engine wouldn't + bring up any more from this side——” + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” cried the inventor, with sudden animation. “That's it! The + Crano-Scale!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it,” I assented. “Away up near the roof. What about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it solves the whole problem,” said Hawkins. “Don't you see, the next + time they need nut-coal, they'll set the engine going and the scoop——” + </p> + <p> + “Four—tons—nut, Bill!” said a faraway voice. “Yep! Four ton. + Start up that blamed machine!” + </p> + <p> + “What? What did he say?” cried the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “Something about starting the engine.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I thought. They're going to use the Crano-Scale, Griggs! + We're saved! We're saved!” + </p> + <p> + “I fail to see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, when the thing comes down, be ready. Ah—it's coming now! Get + ready, Griggs! Get ready! Be prepared to make a dash for it!” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then climb in, of course. There won't be much room, for they're going + to take on four tons, and the thing will be full; but we can manage it. We + can do it, Griggs, and be home in time for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're a fine looking object to go to dinner,” I added. + </p> + <p> + Hawkins' countenance fell somewhat, but there was no time for a reply. The + coal-scuttle of the Crano-Scale was hovering above us, evidently selecting + a spot for its operations. + </p> + <p> + “Here! We're right under it!” Hawkins shouted. “This way, Griggs! Quick! + Lord! It's coming down—it'll hit you! Quick!” + </p> + <p> + And I dived toward Hawkins as he was struggling for a foothold, and then—— + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + A line of asterisks is the only way of putting into print my state of mind—or + absence of any state of mind—for the ensuing quarter of an hour. + </p> + <p> + My first idea was that some absent-minded person had built a three-story + house upon my unhappy body; but I was joggling and bouncing up and down, + so that that hypothesis was manifestly untenable. + </p> + <p> + The weight of the house was there, though, and all about was stifling + blackness. + </p> + <p> + I tried to turn. It was useless. I couldn't move. + </p> + <p> + The house had me pinned down hard and fast. + </p> + <p> + Then I wriggled frantically, and something near me wriggled frantically as + well. Then one of my hands struck something that yielded, and there came a + muffled voice from somewhere in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + “Griggs!” it said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “W-w-w-where are we? This isn't the coal bin. Are you hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “I give it up. Are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. Why, Griggs, this must be one of the big coal carts!” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't wonder,” I assented vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “But—how——” + </p> + <p> + “Your miserable coal-scuttle must have stunned us, picked us up and dumped + us in with the coal!” I exclaimed, suddenly enlightened. + </p> + <p> + “Do—you—think,” came through the blackness. “Huh! It's + stopped!” + </p> + <p> + For a long, long time, as it seemed, there was silence. The weight of coal + pressed down until I was near to madness. Hawkins was grunting painfully. + </p> + <p> + I was speculating as to whether he was actually succumbing—whether I + could stand the strain myself for another minute—when everything + began to slide. The coal slid, I slid, Hawkins slid—the world seemed + to be sliding! + </p> + <p> + We landed upon the sidewalk. We struggled and beat and threshed at the + coal, and finally managed to rise out of it—pitch black, dazed and + battered. + </p> + <p> + And the first object which confronted us was the home of Hawkins! We had + been delivered at his door, with the four tons of nut-coal. + </p> + <p> + “They'll have to sign for us on the driver's slip,” I remember saying. + </p> + <p> + That person let off one shriek and vanished down the street. Then the door + of the Hawkins home opened, and Mrs. Hawkins emerged, followed by my wife. + </p> + <p> + That numerous things were said need not be stated. Mrs. Hawkins said most + of them, and they were luminous. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Griggs limited herself to ruining a fifty-dollar gown by weeping on + my coal-soiled shoulder as she implored me never again to tread the same + street with Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + It was a solemn moment, that; for I saw the light. I realized how many + bumps and bruises and pains and duckings and scorchings might have been + spared me, had I taken the step earlier. + </p> + <p> + But it is never too late to mend. Probably I had still a few years in + which to enjoy life. + </p> + <p> + I turned to Hawkins—a chopfallen, cowering huddle of filth, standing + upon two pearl-and-black legs—and said: + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins, when in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one + man to sever those friendly bands which have connected him with another, + and to assume a station apart, a decent respect for the opinions of the + latter usually make it necessary to declare the cause of that separation. + It is not so in this case. You know mighty well what you've put me through + in the past. There's no need of going into it. + </p> + <p> + “But this Crano-Scale business is my limit—my outside limit,” I went + on, “and you've passed it. If you ever attempt to address another word to + me, or ride in the same elevated train, or even sit in the same theatre, + I'll have you arrested as a suspicious person—and locked up for + life, if money'll do it! Hawkins, henceforth we meet as strangers!” + </p> + <p> + And Hawkins, piloted by the unhappy woman who bears his name, walked up + the steps, turned and stared stupidly at me, and then stumbled into the + house and out of my life—forever. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Mr. Hawkins' Humorous Adventures, by Edgar Franklin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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