_ BOOK I. THE VACANT WORLD
CHAPTER XXVII. TO WORK!
The engineer awoke with a start--awoke to find daylight gone, to find that dusk had settled, had shrouded the whole place in gloom.
Confused, he started up. He was about to call out, when prudence muted his voice. For the moment he could not recollect just what had happened or where he was; but a vast impending consciousness of evil and of danger weighed upon him. It warned him to keep still, to make no outcry. A burning thirst quickened his memory.
Then his comprehension returned. Still weak and shaken, yet greatly benefited by his sleep, he took a few steps toward the door. Where was the girl? Was he alone? What could all this mean?
"Beatrice! Oh, Beatrice!" he called thickly, in guarded tones. "Where are you? Answer me!"
"Here--coming!" he heard her voice. And then he saw her, dimly, in the doorway.
"What is it? Where have you been? How long have I been asleep?"
She did not answer his questions, but came quickly to him, took his hand, and with her own smoothed his brow.
"Better, now?" asked she.
"Lots! I'll be all right in a little while. It's nothing. But what have
you been doing all this time?"
"Come, and I'll show you." She led him toward the other room.
He followed, in growing wonder.
"No attack, yet?"
"None. But the drums have been beating for a long time now. Hear
that? "
They listened. To them drifted a dull, monotonous sound, harbinger of war.
Stern laughed bitterly, chokingly, by reason of his thirst.
"Much good their orchestra will do them," said he, "when it comes to facing soft-nosed .38's! But tell me, what was it you were going to show me?"
Quickly she went over to their crude table, took up a dish and came back to him.
"Drink this!" bade she.
He took it, wondering.
"What?
Coffee? But--"
"Drink! I've had mine, already. Drink!"
Half-stupefied, he obeyed. He drained the whole dish at a draft, then caught his breath in a long sigh.
"But this means water!" cried he, with renewed vigor. "And--?"
"Look here," she directed, pointing. There on the circular hearth stood the copper kettle, three-quarters full.
"Water! You've got
water? " He started forward in amazement. "While I've been sleeping? Where--?"
She laughed with real enjoyment.
"It's nothing," she disclaimed. "After what you've done for me, this is the merest trifle, Allan. You know that big cavity made by the boiler-explosion? Yes? Well, when we looked down into it, before we ventured out to the spring, I noticed a good deal of water at the bottom, stagnant water, that had run out of the boiler and settled on the hard clay floor and in among the cracked cement. I just merely brought up some, and strained and boiled it, that's all. So you see--"
"But, my Lord!" burst out the man, "d'you mean to say you--you went down
there--alone? "
Once more the girl laughed.
"Not alone," she answered. "One of the automatics was kind enough to bear me company. Of course the main stairway was impassable. But I found another way, off through the east end of the building and down some stairs we haven't used at all, yet. They may be useful, by the way, in case of--well--a retreat. Once I'd reached the arcade, the rest was easy. I had that leather rope tied to the kettle handle, you see. So all I had to do was--"
"But the Horde! The Horde?"
"None of them down there, now--that is, alive. None when I was there. All at the war-council, I imagine. I just happened to strike it right, you see. It wasn't anything. We simply
had to have water, so I went and got some, that's all."
"That's all?" echoed Stern, in a trembling voice. "That's--
all!"
Then, lest she see his face even by the dim light through the window, he turned aside a minute. For the tears in his eyes, he felt, were a weakness which he would not care to reveal.
But presently he faced the girl again.
"Beatrice," said he, "words fall so flat, so hopelessly dead; they're so inadequate, so anticlimactic at a time like this, that I'm just going to skip them all. It's no use thanking you, or analyzing this thing, or saying any of the commonplace, stupid things. Let it pass. You've got water, that's enough. You've made good, where I failed. Well--"
His voice broke again, and he grew silent. But she, peering at him with wonder, laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Come," said she, "you must eat something, too. I've got a little supper ready. After that, the Pulverite?"
He started as though shot.
"That's so! I
can make it now!" cried he, new life and energy suffusing him. "Even with my one hand, if you help me, I can make it! Supper? No, no! To
work!"
But she insisted, womanlike; and he at last consented to a bite. When this was over, they began preparations for the manufacture of the terrible explosive, Stern's own secret and invention, which, had not the cataclysm intervened, would have made him ten times over a millionaire. More precious now to him, that knowledge, than all the golden treasures of the dead, forsaken world!
"We've got to risk a light," said he. "If it's turned low, and shaded, maybe they won't learn our whereabouts. But however that may be, we can't work in the dark. It would be too horribly perilous. One false move, one wrong combination, even the addition of one ingredient at the improper moment, and--well--you understand."
She nodded.
"Yes," said she. "And we don't want to quit--just
yet!"
So they lighted the smaller of their copper lamps, and set to work in earnest.
On the table, cleared of dishes and of food, Stern placed in order eight glass bottles, containing the eight basic chemicals for his reaction.
Beside him, at his left hand, he set a large metal dish with three quarts of water, still warm. In front of him stood his copper tea-kettle--the strangest retort, surely in which the terrific compound ever had been distilled.
"Now our chairs, and the lamp," said he, "and we're ready to begin. But first," and, looking earnestly at her, "first, tell me frankly, wouldn't you just a little rather have me carry out this experiment alone? You could wait elsewhere, you know. With these uncertain materials and all the crude conditions we've got to work under, there's no telling what--might happen.
"I've never yet found a man who would willingly stand by and see me build Pulverite, much less a woman. It's frightful, this stuff is! Don't be ashamed to tell me; are you afraid?"
For a long moment the girl looked at him.
"Afraid--with
you? " said she. _