_ CHAPTER VIII. A MYSTERIOUS THEFT
"Would yo' kindly permit me t' prognostigate yo' attention fo' de monumental contraction of impossibilitiness in de circomlocution ob attaining de maximum nutrition ob internal combustion?" asked Washington White about an hour later, as he poked his head into the workshop, where the professor, the boys and Mr. Roumann, together with the machinists, were busily engaged.
"What's that, Wash?" asked Jack with a wink at Mark. "Would you mind saying that over again?"
"Not in de leastest, Massa Jack," replied the colored man. "What I done intended to convey to de auditory sensibilities ob de auricular nerves ob do exterior contraption ob de--"
"Hold on, Washington!" cried Professor Henderson with a laugh. "That sounds as if it was going in be worse than the other. Did I understand you to say that you wanted us to come to dinner?"
"Dat's jest it, pertesser. I done 'spress mahself in de most disproportionate language what I knows how, an' yet it seems laik some pussons cain't understand de appreciableness ob simplisosity."
"Simplisosity is a new one," murmured Mark, while Washington, with an injured look at Jack, who was laughing, went back to his kitchen to prepare to serve the meal.
"I wonder what we'll get to eat when we get up above?" asked Jack, taking advantage of a lull during the meal, when Washington was in the kitchen, for it had been agreed that nothing was yet to be said to the colored man as to their destination, though Andy Sudds knew of their plans. But Andy could be depended on not to talk too much.
"Eat?" repeated the professor. "Why, I fancy that we will take enough along from the earth to last us, eh, Mr. Roumann?"
"Not altogether. I am positive that there is life on Mars, and where there is life there must be things to sustain it. Perhaps the food there will not be such as we are used to, but when our supply, runs short we will have to depend on what we will get there."
"How long do you expect to stay?" asked Mark.
"It is hard to say. When I get what I want I shall be ready to return--that is, after having studied the inhabitants and made some scientific observations."
"Maybe the Martians will like us so that they let us come back," suggested Jack with a laugh.
"Oh, I fancy we will be able to get away," said Mr. Roumann. "But now I must get back to the shop. I am having a little more trouble with my Etherium motor than I anticipated."
"I don't exactly understand how that works," said Jack. "The plans don't call for any opening the stern of the Annihilator for a propeller to project from, and there is no provision for a tube, such as we used to send compressed air from the Flying Mermaid. Nor is there anything in front to pull the Annihilator along."
"We need nothing like that," explained the German scientist. "The powerful force which I discovered does not need a tube or a propeller to enable it to be used. The simplest explanation of it is that it consists of waves of energy, which pass from certain square surfaces attached to the motor. The force flows from the plates right through the stern of the ship, passing through the metal without the necessity for any openings. The wireless waves, as they may be called, act on the ether, and, by pushing against it send the projectile forward, just as if it was a stream of compressed air acting on the atmosphere, or a propeller in the water. Of course, that is to be used when we pass beyond the atmosphere. In the latter space I shall use a different force, as I also shall when we approach Mars."
"Then you can't see this force?" asked Mark.
"No more than you can see the wireless impulses that flow from the wires of an aerial station."
"Yet it's there, just the same," spoke Jack.
"Indeed, it is," answered the scientist. "But, now I must get back to my motor."
"Yes," added Professor Henderson, "we must, all get busy. What are you going to do, Andy?"
"Well, I thought I'd go off hunting. I'm no good at building machinery. I thought you might like something for dinner--say a brace of ducks."
"Good!" cried Jack, who was fond of eating, which, perhaps, accounted for his stoutness.
It was a fine day, just right for hunting, and Andy set off with his gun over his shoulder.
"I wonder if there'll be any game on Mars," said Mark. "I think I'd like to hunt there with Andy."
"If other things are in proportion, the game there will be very different from that on this earth," said the scientist. "We may find monsters there which you never dreamed of."
"That'll be just the stuff for you, Andy," cried Jack.
"Well, bring on your monsters," said the old hunter, as he walked toward the little lake, where wild ducks abounded. "I'll try and shoot some for you."
"Andy takes everything as a matter of course," went on Jack. "No sort of animal seems to frighten him. If he should happen to meet a dinotherium, such as used to live ages ago, he'd shoot it first, and wonder about it afterward."
"And we, are likely to meet with stranger beasts than dinotheriums on Mars," said Mr. Roumann.
"What am dat dinotherium?" asked Washington, entering the room at that moment and catching the word.
"Washington wants to work that into his conversation!" exclaimed Jack with a laugh. "But you want to be careful, Wash."
"Why so, Massa Jack?"
"Because the dinotheriurn was a fearful beast. It was about twenty feet long, lived in the water, and ate all sorts of weeds."
"How long you say he was?"
"About twenty feet."
"He must eat a pow'ful sight ob weeds, den. Wish I had one."
"What for?"
"Cause mah garden am jest oberrun wid weeds. If I had one ob dem dinnasorriouses--"
"Dinotheriums," corrected Jack.
"Dat's what I said," observed Washington with dignity. "If I had one ob dem, I wouldn't hab t' weed mah garden. Where am one to be possessed ob, Massa Jack?"
"I guess you were born a few million years too late," was the lad's answer. "They lived a few centuries before the flood."
"Good land!" exclaimed Washington, his eyes opening wide. "Before Noah built de ark?"
"Yes."
"Landy gracious! Dat animai'd be so old by dis time dat he couldn't chew de weeds after he pulled'em. Guess I'll hab t'do mah own weedin'."
"I reckon you will," added Mark.
They went back to the machine shop, and for the next week were very busy over the Annihilator. It was beginning to assume shape, and some of the machinery was installed.
One evening, after a hard day's work, when they 'were all seated in the big living-room of Professor Henderson's home, discussing the progress they were making, Jack suddenly held up his hand for silence.
"What's the matter?"' asked Mark.
"I thought I heard somebody walking around the house," was the stout lad's answer.
"Maybe it's Washington," suggested the professor. "He generally goes out to see if his chickens are shut up. He is very proud of his flock of hens, and seems to hate to kill any for pot-pie."
They all listened. Plainly there was some one or some animal moving about under the windows of the living-room.
"That doesn't sound like Washington," said Mr. Roumann.
Just then the colored man, who had been upstairs, attending to some of the housework (for he was the only servant the professor kept), came down.
"Were you just outside, Washington?" asked Mr. Henderson.
"No, sah. I'se been upstairs, makin' beds."
"There it is again!" cried Jack suddenly.
The footsteps sounded more plainly, and one of the window shutters rattled.
"Dat's somebody after mah chickens!" exclaimed the colored man. "I'se gwine t' git him, too!"
He started for the door, but the professor held him back.
"Let Andy go," he said. "He will make less noise than any of us."
He looked at the old hunter and nodded. Andy understood, and, taking his gun from a corner, slipped out of a side door, making no more noise than a cat.
The others, left in the living-room, waited in silence. They could hear the stealthy footsteps, which, however, seemed now to be moving away.
"I wonder who or what it can be?" murmured the professor. "This is the second time some one has been sneaking around here. I don't like it."
"It does look suspicious," admitted Jack. "Do you suppose the man you spoke of, Mr. Roumann, who you thought might try to discover your secret, has traced you here, and is endeavoring to steal it?"
"No, I hardly think so. I took good care to conceal my movements, and not even my closest friends know that I am here with Professor Henderson, making a projectile, the trip of which will astonish the world. No, I think this must be some other person."
"It's a pusson after mah chickens!" insisted Washington. "If yo'll allow me, perfesser, t' project mahself inter de promixity of his inner consciousness--"
"No, you just stay here," decided Mr. Henderson. "You might get into trouble if you went out and tried conclusions with a thicken thief, which I suppose is what you are trying to say you want to do."
"Dat's what I did say, perfesser."
They could no longer hear the footsteps, but the silence of the night was suddenly broken by the report of Andy's gun.
"There! He's shot at him!" cried Jack.
"I hope he disabled dat chicken stealer!" yelled the colored man. "Anybody what'll steal chickens--"
"Hush!" commanded Mr. Henderson.
Another shot rang out, and then the sound of footsteps could be heard.
"He's running past here," called Jack, hurrying to the door.
He caught sight of a dark figure rushing past, and was about to follow, but the outline was immediately lost in the darkness, and Jack that it would be a useless move. Andy came up.
"Did you hit him?" cried Jack
"No. I only fired over his head," replied the old hunter.
"Who was it?"
"I don't know, but it was some man prowling around, and for no good purpose, I take it."
"Did he steal any ob my chickens?" asked Washington.
"No; he wasn't near the coop."
"I guess it was only a tramp," said Mr. Henderson.
"I hope he doesn't go near the machine shop," added Mr. Roumann. "Still, if he did, the two machinists sleeping there would hear him."
They returned to the room, and Andy stood his gun in a corner. The weapon was seldom far from him.
"What was he doing when you saw him?" asked Mr. Henderson.
"Just sneaking along the window here as if listening."
"Maybe he was trying to hear what we were talking about," suggested Jack.
"Or trying to discover my secret," added Mr. Roumann quickly. "Fortunately I never talk about the secret of the power. But I shall be anxious about the machine shop."
"Suppose we go out and take a look around it," proposed Mark. "Ned and Sam will know if any intruder has been sneaking around there."
They all went out where the Annihilator was in process of building, but the machinists said they had not been disturbed, and they were sure no one had stolen anything.
There was no further disturbance that night, but when Mr. Roumann paid an early visit to the machine shop the next morning, he uttered a cry of surprise.
"What is it?" asked Jack, who accompanied him.
"The plates--the plates of the Etherium motor!" cried the scientist. "They have been stolen!" _