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- Author: Roy Rockwood
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“You forget that we have electrical cannons,” said Jack.
“That’s so,” added Mr. Henderson. “And it might not be a bad
plan to get, them in working order.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the German scientist. “The Martians will
never bother us. They are thinking too much about the stars, the
sun, moons and other planets—they are too intent on studying to
bother us. That is all they do—study. That’s what makes their
ears, eyes, nose and mouth so big. They use them to listen to
scientific sounds, to look at scientific objects, smell
scientific odors, and talk of scientific things. They’ll never
bother us.”
“Maybe not, but perhaps the crazy machinist will,” suggested
Mark.
“I’ll make some inquiries to-morrow, and see if the Martians know
anything of him,” promised Mr. Henderson.
But if the Martians knew anything of the insane man, they would
not tell. When the adventurers made cautious inquiries on the
morrow, they were only met with vacant stares from the big eyes.
The boys and their friends made several excursions about
Martopolis in the next week, and even traveled in the big sleds
to distant cities, which they found much the same as the one they
were in.
They saw no signs of the crazy machinist, and began to believe
that he had disappeared for good. They were making progress in
the Martian language, and could converse with the people. No
longer did the Martians cause the travelers to move about by the
thought force, and our friends were allowed to go here and there
as they pleased. They found traveling exceedingly easy, as their
bodies were so light.
They had again taken up their residence in the house in the city,
paying occasional visits to the projectile, which remained on the
soft sand where it had landed, but tilted upward, ready for a
flight.
One afternoon Jack and Mark, who had been out taking a walk, came
back rather hurriedly. They found Professor Henderson and Mr.
Roumann doing some scientific work, while Washington and Andy
were discussing the many strange things on Mars.
“Professor,” said Jack, “I think something is up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s something unusual going on. The Martians are
acting very queerly. There’s a big meeting in the glass palace,
and when we tried to go in we were stopped. Crowds in the street
kept following us, and they haven’t done that since we first
landed.”
“Yes,” added Mark, “and I think I saw that same man who watched
us taking the Cardite with a lot of other officers, following us,
too. And, besides, no persons here seem as friendly as they used
to. Did they, Jack?”
“No, indeed. I think they have discovered that we have taken some
of the red stuff, and they don’t like it.”
Professor Henderson and Mr. Roumann looked grave. If this was
the case, it might mean serious trouble for them all.
“But they’re a long while finding out that we took the stuff,”
said Andy, who listened intently to what the boys said.
“Maybe they knew it all the while,” suggested Jack; “but they are
so interested in scientific matters that they didn’t want to take
any action on it until now.”
“Well,” remarked Mr. Roumann, “whatever it is, I think we will be
safer in the projectile. Come, we will all go out there and
spend the night. We can defend ourselves in case anything
happens, though I don’t believe it will.”
They started at once, and there was a feeling of security when
they had clamped fast the great steel doors in the side of the
Annihilator.
Contrary to their fears, the night passed without incident. They
were all at breakfast the next morning, when Mark, happening to
look through a heavy plate-glass window in the living-room,
called out:
“Look what’s coming!”
They saw a vast throng of Martians advancing toward the
projectile.
“See who’s leading them!” called Jack. “The crazy machinist!”
THE REPULSE
“Do you suppose they’re going to attack us?”’ asked Mr. Roumann.
“It looks very much like it,” answered Professor Henderson. “But
we will wait and see. Are the electric cannons in shape?”
“Yes, they are all ready to work. All that is necessary is to
open the ports and fire them. They will not kill, but they will
disable the Martians for a time, in case we have to use them.”
“I hope we’ll not have to,” said Jack. “They have been very good
to us, and I shouldn’t want to harm them.”
“There’s a big crowd of them,” added Mark. “I wonder how that
crazy man came to be with them?”
“He must be leading them against us out of revenge,” was Mr.
Henderson’s opinion. “He may have induced them to try to kill
us, and they may be very willing to do so, because we have taken
some of the Cardite.”
“I hope not,” murmured Mr. Roumann.
The throng approached nearer. In front was the insane machinist,
who was leaping about, running to and fro, and shouting at the
top of his voice. His words came faintly to those in the
projectile.
“They seem to have a new leader,” remarked Jack. “I understood
that the ruler, Silex Corundum, always went at the head of the
troops when there was to be a battle, but there’s a different
person now.”
A little in the rear of the crazy machinist was a Martian
enveloped in a scarlet cloak, which hung from his shoulders to
the ground. And fastened on his head to the golden circlet,
which seemed to be a common badge of office for all leading
Martians, was a small metal box.
“I believe that box has Cardite in it,” said Jack. “Maybe he’s
the keeper of all the Cardite on this planet, and he and his
soldiers have come to get it back.”
“They don’t look like soldiers,” commented Mark.
“No; but they all have some sort of weapons,” said Jack. “They
look like sticks with small boxes of Cardite on the end of them.
They must he a new kind of gun.”
“And probably very effective, too,” commented the professor.
“But they are evidently going to hold a parley with us. The
machinist and the Martian in the scarlet cloak are advancing
alone.”
The main body of Martians had come to a halt a short distance
away from the projectile, while the two strange figures, so
greatly contrasted—that of the insane man and the little
officer-advanced together.
“Open the window to hear what they say,” suggested Mr. Henderson,
and the German scientist did so.
“Hello, you in there!” called the machinist.
“Well, what do you want?” asked Mr. Henderson.
“We want you to come out and be killed. I’m going to pay you
back for all the trouble you caused me. I couldn’t wreck your
airship that you stole from me, but I’ll have my revenge now.
These little fellows will do whatever I say, and I want you to
come out and be killed.”
“Suppose we refuse?”
“Then we’ll make you! Oh, they’ve got the power to, all right.
I’m going to be their king next week, and they’ll do anything I
say. Come on out!”
“I’m afraid we shall have to decline,” answered the professor.
The machinist began a rambling talk, and the scarlet-cloaked
figure stepped forward. He spoke slowly, using simple words in
the Martian tongue, such as he knew the travelers could
understand.
“My name is Zun Flor,” he began. “I am the keeper of the
Cardite, and I am told by one of my assistants that you have
taken some.”
“Well?” asked Mr. Roumann.
“You must return it at once. It is against our laws for
strangers to have any of the Cardite.”
“But we came here to get it. We only took a little, and you have
so much.”
“That makes no difference. You must return it at once, and then
you must go away. We do not want you here.”
“Suppose we refuse?”
“Then you will perish! Be warned in time. Give up the Cardite,
and take your departure.”
“What will happen if we do not?”
“You and your machine shall vanish from this planet and never
more be seen. We cannot have any of our precious Cardite taken
away to another world.”
“We have only taken a little,” repeated Mr. Roumann. “We desire
it for scientific purposes, and as you are so fond of science,
you ought to let us keep it.”
“Give it back!” exclaimed Zun Flor, and he seemed to be very
angry. His big, bulging eyes flashed. “Return it to me, and all
will be forgiven.”
“We will not!” declared Mr. Roumann firmly.
“Then we shall attack you!”
“And we shall defend ourselves. Now, let me warn you. We have
powerful forces within this projectile. We will use them against
you and your men.”
“You cannot harm us,” insisted the Martian in the red cloak.
“Your machines of war will be powerless against those we have.
Be warned in time. You must choose between the Cardite and
death!”
“We will keep the Cardite, and we will also keep our lives!”
retorted the German.
He slammed the glass window shut with a bang, and locked it.
Then he closed an inner shutter of steel over it.
“We, can’t see what’s going on, and what they do,” objected Jack.
“Yes, we can,” said Mr. Roumann.
He pressed a lever, and a shutter made of strong steel slats,
that was on the plate-glass window of the projectile, opened.
This gave a view all about the Annihilator.
This done, the ports covering the muzzles of the electric cannons
were let down, and four guns, two on either side, were aimed at
the throng of Martians.
“They are going to fire, or something!” exclaimed Jack, as he
looked outside. “They are pointing those sticks at us!”
Instantly every one in the projectile felt as if a thousand pins
and needles were sticking into him.
“They’re discharging an electric current, or something like it,
at us!” cried Professor Henderson.
A moment later every one felt himself drawn against one side or
the other of the projectile, just as a magnet draws steel filings
to itself through a piece of cardboard.
“They’re trying to pull us through the steel sides!” cried Mark.
“I can’t move.”
Neither could any one else. They were stuck there like flies on
the wall.
“Maybe they are going to keep us here forever!” cried old Andy,
while Washington was too frightened to use any big words.
Mr. Roumann was near some levers. He managed to pull one, and
instantly those in the projectile felt themselves free.
“How did you do that?” asked Mr. Henderson.
“I neutralized the electric current,” explained the German. “I
anticipated that in our flight through space we might meet with
electric storms. I provided so that in such a case I could throw
a counter current of electricity all about the projectile. That
is what happened just now, though not exactly as I expected it.
I have rendered their weapons useless—at least, for the time
being.”
“And we can now try ours on them!” cried Jack.
“Exactly! Get ready to fire the electric cannons!” called Mr.
Roumann.
The Martians seemed to understand that something had gone wrong.
They were running about, consulting among themselves, and
pointing to the projectile. The figure in red and the machinist
were talking earnestly together.
“He’s probably telling them
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