Through Space to Mars by Roy Rockwood (e ink epub reader TXT) 📖

CHAPTER VI

BUILDING THE PROJECTILE

 

“Did you see that?” exclaimed Jack.

 

“What?” asked Professor Henderson quickly.

 

“Some one at the window,” replied Jack.

 

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

 

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

some excitement.

 

“I couldn’t tell very well,” answered Jack. “I saw him for only

a second. But the man was looking right in.”

 

“Did he have a heavy black mustache?” asked the German, and

strode rapidly toward the window.

 

“No, he didn’t have a mustache at all,” said Jack. “He was

smooth-shaven. I’m sure of that.”

 

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

 

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

 

“I—I thought it was an enemy of mine,” was the answer. “Some

one who has been trying to discover my secret. But the man whom

I fear has a heavy black mustache, and this one, you say, Jack,

had none?”

 

“None at all.”

 

“Then it’s all right.”

 

Jack thought of saying that the man might have shaved his

mustache off, but he did not want Mr. Roumann to worry.

 

“I guess he was only a tramp,” said Amos Henderson. “Some one

wandering about looking for a chicken coop that isn’t locked.

Or, perhaps, seeking a chance to rob.”

 

Jack said nothing, but from the glimpse he had had of the man’s

face, he did not believe the fellow was a tramp. There was too

much intelligence shown. The face was an evil one, and seemed to

indicate that the man had an object in peering into the window—a

motive that was not connected with a chicken coop.

 

“I’ll tell Andy to keep watch for a while tonight with his gun,”

went on the professor. “I don’t like prowlers around here. I

have some valuable tools in my machine shop, and they might steal

them.”

 

“Now, Professor Henderson,” began Mr. Roumann, when he had taken

his seat at a small table and spread out his plans in front of

him, “I am only going to sketch briefly, for you and your young

assistants, what I propose. As I have said, we will need a

projectile, two hundred feet long and about ten feet through in

the thickest part. In that we will build sleeping and living

apartments, lacks to store the air which we will have to breathe

while traveling through space, other tanks for water, a

compartment for food, another for scientific instruments, and we

will need a comparatively large space for my machinery.”

 

“Why will it take up so much space?” asked the professor. “I

thought you said the new power required only a small machine to

generate it.”

 

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

machines.”

 

“Two? Why is that?”

 

“Because we are going to travel through two, and perhaps three,

different mediums. We are going to shoot through the atmosphere

of the earth; then through the vast region beyond that, filled

with what is called ether.”

 

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

 

“Much different,” replied Mr. Roumann. “There is no air to it at

all. The secret power which I have invented is perfectly adapted

to project us through this ether. That is why I call it

Etherium. Then when we reach Mars, we will find a different

atmosphere, somewhat like this earth’s, I expect, but which will

require still another kind of power to move us in. I hope,

however, that the same force which sends us through the limits of

the atmosphere of this earth will take us through that of Mars.

So that is why I need so much space for machinery.”

 

“Well, I guess we can build the projectile for you,” said Mr.

Henderson. “It will take us nearly a month, though.”

 

“No longer, I hope,” said the German. “Every day is valuable.

Once the projectile is finished we will enter it, seal ourselves

up, and be shot through space. When we get to Mars—well, there

are many things to do when we reach there.”

 

“I shall be much interested in seeing if they have discovered a

way of conquering the air,” said Mr. Henderson. “If they are a

race of superior intelligence, as some authorities believe, from

the fact that Mars may have been inhabited for millions of years

before this earth was formed, they must have advanced very

greatly in science. The mastery of the air—in making flying

machines—would be one of the surest tests.”

 

“I think you will find the Martians a very learned race,

professor,” said Mr. Roumann.

 

“I want to see if the boys there are like the fellows on earth—

playing baseball, football and so on,” marked Jack.

 

“I shall be interested in the colleges,” added Mark, “and in the

great canals of Mars.”

 

“I believe there will be plenty to interest us on the planet

which glows so red at night,” went on Mr. Henderson. “But, Mr.

Roumann, it is only fair to tell you that the building of this

projectile will cost considerable money. I do not hesitate

on this account, but, as you know, the Flying Mermaid, in which

we went to the center of the earth, had to be abandoned there.

That was quite a heavy loss. I should not like—”

 

“You will suffer no loss in this case,” interrupted Roumann. “I

appreciate that the projectile cost a large sum. I have no money

to advance you, but I can promise you that when we reach Mars you

will be amply repaid. We shall be rich—rich beyond your wildest

dreams. There will be gold in untold quantities—”

 

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

 

“Not in the form of gold,” said the German, who was growing very

excited, “but something that can be turned into gold. I am on

the track of the most wonderful substance—that which gives Mars

its red color—that which will—”

 

He stopped suddenly.

 

“I must say no more now,” he added, calming himself by a strong

effort. “Sufficient to state that you will never regret making

the trip to the wonderful planet.”

 

“But now about your new force—how powerful is it?” asked Mr.

Henderson. “You promised to demonstrate it to me.”

 

“Yes, and I will do so.”

 

Thereupon the German plunged into a mass of figures and

calculations, which were quite puzzling to the boys, but which

seemed very clear to Mr. Henderson. The German drew several

rough outlines, and the discussion became quite technical. Toward

the close, the inventor of the-secret force gave a demonstration

of its power. By means of certain chemicals and an electric

current he developed from the end of a wire a force sufficient to

knock over a heavy block of steel, weighing over a ton.

 

“That is only a small sample of what my force will do,” he said.

“In the proper machine it will be ten times more strong. The

conditions here are not exactly harmonious. Now, are you

satisfied, Professor Henderson?”

 

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

wonderful.”

 

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

 

“I will. I’ll start at once.”

 

“Good! And I promise that you will come back from Mars even more

wealthy than you were when you returned from the center of the

earth.”

 

“Most of that wealth is now gone,” said Mr. Henderson with a

smile. “I have enough left, however, to build the projectile,

and we’ll start at once.”

 

“Hurrah for Mars!” cried Jack.

 

“And the marvelous red substance!” added Mark.

 

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

“That must be kept a profound secret!”

 

The next day the boys, Professor Henderson, Washington White, and

some trusty machinists began the building of the Annihilator, as

the projectile was to be called, because it was to annihilate

space.