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as the professor had in his shop

the proper machinery for it, a small force could accomplish a

great deal of work.

 

The rear of the projectile was to be occupied by the mysterious

apparatus that was to drive it through space. In this compartment

would be many strange machines, including the one which Mr. Roumann

had invented to use the terrific and secret force of which he was

the discoverer.

 

There were apparatus for distilling water from the atmosphere,

others for manufacturing oxygen, dynamos for furnishing light to

the interior of the Annihilator, motors for working the various

small machines, and a number of other appliances.

 

Forward from the engine-room was a space to be used in storing

away the food supplies, and the materials necessary for generating

the force used, as well as for making a new supply of air when

needed.

 

Amidships was a living-room, with a plate-glass window on either

side. There was not much space to move about in it, as, owing to

the long and narrow shape of the projectile, economy of room was

enforced. Still, the place was a lengthy one, with tables and

chairs, which could be folded up out of the way when not in use.

There was provision for a library of scientific and other books,

and a piano played by electricity and brass disks, somewhat on

the order of modern player-pianos.

 

“What are those apertures in the sides of the living-room?” asked

Jack of Mr. Roumann, as the lad glanced over a sheet of

blue-print paper, on which was shown a plan of the projectile.

 

“Those,” said the German, “are for the guns.”

 

“Guns!” exclaimed Mark. “Why, they’re too big for guns. They

are large enough to put a cannon through.”

 

“And that is just what is going to be put through them, my boy,”

went on Mr. Roumann. “From those openings, and you will see that

there are four of them, will protrude the muzzles of my electric

cannons.”

 

“Do we need them?” asked Jack.

 

“You can’t tell what we’ll need when we get to Mars,” was the

slow answer. “You must remember that we know nothing about the

inhabitants of the planet. While I believe that the people there

are of a very high grade of intelligence, we must be prepared for

the worst. We may find them terrible savages, who will want to

attack and destroy us. With the electric cannon we can defend

ourselves.”

 

“That’s so,” admitted Jack. “We had to fight the Esquimaux up

north,”

 

“And the putty-men in the center of the earth,” added Mark.

 

Forward of the living-room, and near what corresponded to the bow

of the projectile, were the sleeping-rooms, consisting of two

long, narrow compartments, with a passageway between them, like

the aisle in a sleeping-car. The beds were berths against the

wall, much as in the Pullman cars of to-day.

 

In the very “nose” of the Annihilator was the pilot house. Here

were grouped together the wheels, levers, cams, gears, pistons

and other apparatus that controlled the big projectile. Standing

in it, and peering out through a heavy plate glass window, the

operator could guide the machine in any direction he desired, and

he could also regulate the rate of progress.

 

A number of scientific instruments were carried, for showing and

registering the speed and direction of the Annihilator, the

distance it was above the earth, and there was an indicator to

note how near the travelers came to Mars. There was also a

powerful telescope, and a number of cameras so arranged that they

would automatically take pictures.

 

“We’ll have to travel through space pretty fast in order to cover

thirty-five millions of miles,” observed Jack, stopping in his

work of helping rivet some of the plates.

 

“About how fast will we have to go, Mr. Roumann?”

 

“I have it all figured out,” replied the German.

 

“I hope our projectile will stand it,” remarked Mr. Henderson.

“We did not have to make such terrific speed on our other

voyages.”

 

“I think that the Annihilator, as we have planned it, will not

suffer from the strain of speed,” when on Mr. Roumann, looking up

from his study of some blue-prints. “You may be astonished when

I tell you we shall have to travel at the rate of one hundred

miles a second.”

 

“One hundred miles a second!” exclaimed Jack. “That’s pretty

fast, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s at the rate of eight million six hundred and forty thousand

miles a day,” came from Mark, who was a rapid figurer.

 

“And to cover thirty-five million miles would take us less than

five days,” said Jack. “But such an enormous speed—”

 

“We must travel at about that speed,” interrupted Mr. Roumann,

“though I fancy we will be nearer ten days than five in reaching

Mars.”

 

“Why?” asked Jack.

 

“Because we will not dare travel at such terrific speed as one

hundred miles a second through the atmosphere of the earth. We

would be burned into cinders by the mere friction of the air.

Therefore, I shall send the Annihilator comparatively slowly

through the earth’s atmosphere, and perhaps I will find that I shall have

to do the same thing when we near Mars. But while traveling through

the ether, or the space that is between the two can go as fast

as we like, which will as Mark has said, eight million miles per day.”

 

“But even that rate,” began Jack, “is going to pretty fast.”

 

“It is faster than almost anything except light,” went on Mr.

Roumann.

 

“Light travels one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles a

second,” stated Mark, who remembered his physics. “That’s more

than seven times around the earth in a second.”

 

“Correct,” said Mr. Roumann with a smile. “But sound, as you

know, only goes a little over a thousand feet a second, at a

temperature of thirty-two degrees above zero. In a warmer

atmosphere it travels slightly faster. We are going much faster

than sound ever travels. A cannon ball will travel about three

thousand feet per second, so we are even going to beat cannon

balls. At least, we hope we are, when we get beyond the earth’s

atmosphere.”

 

“That’s going to be terrific speed,” remarked Jack dubiously, as

if there was some risk in it.

 

“You need not worry,” said Mr. Roumann. “You know we are building

the Annihilator with a double shell, with a space between the two

walls.”

 

“Yes?” said Jack questioningly.

 

“Well, in that space I intend to put a new kind of gas, that will

absorb all the heat that may be generated by our flight through

space,” went on Mr. Roumann. “Now that you know you have

nothing to fear, let us go on with the work.”

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

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