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secret of the wonderful power that will

take us to Mars,” added Mr. Roumann.

 

“That is one point on which we differ,” continued Mr. Henderson.

“Mr. Roumann believes we can get to the red planet, which, as he

correctly says, is nearer to us now than it will be again in many

years. I do not see how we can get there through the intervening

space.”

 

“And I will prove to you that we can,” insisted the other. “The

power which I shall use is strongest known. But it depends on

you and your young assistants.”

 

“On us?” asked Jack.

 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Santell Roumann. “If and Professor Henderson

can build the proper projectile, we shall go.”

 

“A projectile!” exclaimed Jack.

 

“A projectile,” said Mr. Roumann again. “I have studied it all

out, and I think the projectile, shaped somewhat like a great

shell, such as they use in warfare, or, more properly speaking,

built like a cigar or a torpedo, is the only feasible means of

reaching Mars. We shall go in a projectile, two hundred feet

long, and ten feet in diameter at the largest point. That will

offer the least resistance to the atmosphere of the earth, though

when we get within the atmosphere of Mars, and are subjected to

its attraction of gravitation, we shall meet with even less

resistance.”

 

“Why?” asked Jack, who wanted to know the reason for everything.

 

“Because,” answered Mr. Roumann, “from my observations I have

proved that the atmosphere of Mars is much less dense than is

that surrounding the earth, and the attraction of gravitation

there is about two-thirds less. That is, an object that weighs

one hundred pounds on the earth will weigh only thirty-three

pounds on Mars.”

 

“That’s the stuff!” cried Jack.

 

“Why?” asked Mr. Roumann in some surprise.

 

“Then I’ll have a chance to lose weight,” replied Jack. “I’m

getting too fat here. I weigh a hundred and eighty pounds, and

that’s too much for a lad of my age. When I get to Mars I’ll

only weigh—let’s see, two-thirds of one hundred and eighty—”

and Jack got out pencil and paper and began figuring.

 

“It’s sixty pounds!” exclaimed Mark, who was quick at figures.

 

“How are we to get to Mars, Mr. Roumann?” demanded Jack.

 

“I will tell you,” answered the blue-eyed man. “When you and the

professor have constructed the projectile, after plans which I

shall draw, I will apply my new, wonderful, secret power, and—”

 

“If yo’ gen’men will kindly project yo’se’ves hitherward, an’

proceed to discuss de similitodinariness ob de interplanetary

conjunction what am waitin’ fo’ yo’ heah, de obverseness of de

inner constitutions will be expeditiously relieved,” spoke the

colored man, suddenly looking in the room.

 

“Does that mean supper is ready, Washington?” asked Professor

Henderson.

 

“Yes, sah. It suah do.”

 

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

 

“I did, perfesser.”

 

“Well, perhaps you thought so. Washington has a very peculiar

habit of using big words, just because they sound so imposing,”

went on the professor. “He spends all his spare time consulting

the dictionary.”

 

“I have noticed it,” remarked Mr. Roumann, smiling.

 

“Well, suppose we go out to supper?” went on Mr. Henderson. “You

boys must be hungry.”

 

“I can eat,” admitted Jack.

 

“You’ll get stouter if you do,” warned Mark with a smile.

 

“Can’t help it. Wait until we get to Mars.”

 

“Oh, yes, you didn’t finish telling us how we were to get there,

Mr. Roumann,” said Jack.

 

“I’ll tell you while we’re at supper,” said the scientist. “I

confess that Washington’s announcement came just at the right

time. I am very hungry.”

CHAPTER V

THE SECRET POWER

 

For a few minutes after they were seated at the table nothing was

heard but the rattle of the dishes and the clatter of knives and

forks. Washington was a fine cook, and there was a plentiful

supply of just what the boys liked best.

 

When the meal was well under way, the dining room door opened,

and a strange figure entered. It was that of rather an aged man,

who walked with soft, cat-like tread, and who leaned forward, as

if on the trail of some enemy or wild beast. His eyes were

bright, however, in spite of his age.

 

“Andy Sudds!” exclaimed Jack. “I was wondering where you were.”

 

“Well, snap my gunlock, if it isn’t Jack Darrow!” exclaimed Andy.

 

“Any luck?” asked Mark, for he knew the old man must have been

hunting.

 

“And Mark, too!” went on the old hunter. “Well, this is a

surprise. No, I didn’t have any luck—that is, what you could

call luck. There’s been a weasel carrying off our chickens and

killing them, and I went out to shoot it.”

 

“Did you cotch it, Mistah Sudds?” asked Washington anxiously.

 

“I didn’t ‘cotch’ it,” answered Andy with a grin. “I killed it.

I guess the chickens will be safe now, Wash. But I’m hungry.

I’ve been hiding out there by the chicken coop all the afternoon.

But what brings you boys back from college?”

 

“We came home because we are going to take a trip to Mars,”

explained Jack.

 

“Mars! Mars! Good land! Where’ll you folks go next?” exclaimed

Andy. “Wash, pass me some of that cold ham.”

 

“You said you would tell us now how we were to get there, Mr.

Roumann,” said Jack, who was anxious, as was Mark, to hear the

particulars.

 

“And so I will,” replied the scientist. “You must know that I

have long been interested in the planet Mars, for several

reasons. Some reasons I will tell you now, and the others I will

disclose at a future time.”

 

“Mars, you know, is the fourth major planet, computing their

positions in distance from the sun. First there is Mercury,

then—”

 

“I know,” interrupted Jack; “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars,

Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. I learned them at school.”

 

“That’s right,” said Mr. Roumann. “But, while Mercury is only

about thirty-six millions of miles from the sun at its nearest

point, the closest it ever comes to the earth is fifty-seven

millions of miles, while, as I told you, Mars is now but thirty-five

millions of miles away, a difference in favor of Mars of

twenty-two millions of miles, quite a distance when one has to

travel it. Neptune, the farthest of the major planets, is two

billion eight hundred millions of miles from the sun, and it is

separated from this earth by—”

 

“By two billion seven hundred and eight million miles,” said Mark

quickly.

 

“How do you make that out?” asked Jack in some surprise.

 

“By subtracting ninety-two millions of miles, which is the

distance from the earth to the sun, from the number of miles

Neptune is away from the sun,” said Mark.

 

“That’s right,” admitted Mr. Henderson. “You’re very quick at

figures, Mark.”

 

“Well, let’s get to Mars,” said Jack. “Maybe Andy can find some

new kind of game there.”

 

“Me? I’m not going to any place so many millions of miles away

from here,” answered the old hunter, looking up from his plate.

“It’s good enough hunting here.”

 

“Wait until you see,” said Mr. Roumann with a smile. “I expect

to find many marvels on Mars.”

 

“If we get there,” added Mr. Henderson.

 

“We’ll get there,” declared Mr. Roumann confidently. “As I said,

I have long been interested in Mars, and one reason is that I

want to prove that there is life on it—that it is inhabited by a

superior race of beings. Another reason is that I expect to find

on it a supply—or at least specimens—of a most valuable

substance—”

 

Mr. Roumann stopped suddenly.

 

“Well?” asked Mr. Henderson questioningly, for there was an odd

manner about the blue-eyed scientist.

 

“That is something I do not wish to speak about at present,” said

Mr. Roumann quickly. “I will tell you my other reason for going

to Mars—when we get there.”

 

“Now, as to the method. As I told you, Professor Henderson, and

as I intimated to you boys, we will go in a long, torpedo-shaped

projectile, which, though it will not be very large in diameter,

will be long enough to contain all our machinery and ourselves,

with a sufficient store of provisions for a year or more. But I

know what you are going to ask, and that is: How can I send the

projectile through space?

 

“Well, I’ll tell you—that is, partly tell you, for some parts of

my secret can never be revealed. I have discovered a wonderful

power, more wonderful than man ever dreamed of before. I have

called it Etherium, for the reason that I expect it to carry us

through the ether, or space that exists outside of the atmosphere

of this earth and that of Mars.

 

“Now, professor, do you think you and your assistants can build a

proper projectile?”

 

“We built an airship that went to the North Pole, we constructed

a submarine that took us to the South Pole, and we had the Flying

Mermaid, in which we went to the center of the earth,” said Mr.

Henderson. “I think we can build you the torpedo-shaped

projectile. But what will make it move through thirty-five

millions of miles of space?”

 

“I will!” exclaimed the other. “I and my wonderful, secret

power—Etherium! If you will build the projectile I will do the

rest. I will give you the plans for the machinery at once, and

you can begin as soon as you are ready. You have a large

workshop here, I understand.”

 

“Yes, we have all the means at our command,” admitted Mr.

Henderson.

 

“But it must be built in secret,” stipulated Mr. Roumann. “No

one must know about it until we are ready to leave. Several

unscrupulous men have tried to steal my secret.”

 

“We can construct the projectile and machinery so that no one but

ourselves, and one or two trusty mechanics, will ever know about

it,” promised Mr. Henderson.

 

“Good! Now, when can you begin? As I told you, Mars is already

beginning to move away from us at the rate of twenty-eight

millions of miles a year. That is over two millions of miles a

month, and every day counts.”

 

“We will start at once,” promised Mr. Henderson. “That is, if

Jack and Mark decide they want to go. I will let them choose.

Boys, do you want to try to go to Mars, or go back to college?”

 

“Mars! Every time!” cried Jack. “I want to begin to weigh

less.”

 

“I’ll go wherever Jack goes,” said Mark.

 

“Very well, then,” assented the professor. “But you must

remember, Mr. Roumann, that I am still unconvinced that you

possess the secret of a power that will project a heavy object

through space to Mars—thirty-five millions of miles away. I do

not say it can’t be done, only I want to be shown. I will aid

you all I can, and I will accompany you. But I fear we shall

never get to Mars.”

 

“And I tell you we will!” insisted the other. “Come, I will

prove it to you by mathematics, and by illustrating some of the

force of my new secret power. Let us go to the laboratory.”

 

The professor took from a valise, which sat in a corner of the

room, a bundle of papers. Then, followed by the professor and

the boys, he started for the private laboratory of Mr. Henderson.

 

As they left the dining-room they heard an unexpected noise at

one of the windows. They looked quickly up, and Jack saw the

face

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