Part 3

While this was of great interest to Henry, it but served to increase his uneasiness. He could think of no good reason for the failure of the _Sphere_ to return from its trial trip but a fatal reoccurrence of the mechanical trouble suggested in the freighter’s report.

* * * * *

It was at this point in Henry’s gloomy reflections that a hearty laugh outside startled him. The professor!

A moment later Robert and Professor Palmer entered. Both were in fine spirits.

“Should have been along, Henry,” boomed the professor. “Missed the time of your young life.”

“Been reading about it,” Henry replied, tapping the paper. “Were you really trying to drop into the lake, or couldn’t you help it?”

“Fast work, Robert,” laughed the professor, as together they read over the article; “private trial trip in the afternoon--front page headlines next morning! Not so bad, eh?”

“Just missed the freighter,” gasped Robert. “We didn’t have a chance to see her until we had checked our drop and drifted off astern. Phew!”

“Never mind,” soothed the professor. “Can’t be helped now. Anyway, they will probably conclude that we were merely playing with them.”

His mood would not be denied. He seemed more like a boy at that moment than a dignified professor of fifty-seven.

“You folks seem to have had a dull trip,” remarked Henry, ironically. “Where were you last night?”

“Must we tell you? Had you accepted our invitation, you’d know,” retorted the professor. “Man, don’t ask us so many questions. We’re as hungry as wolves.”

They sat down before the appetizing, crisply fried bacon, and eggs that Jarvis, the peerless, smiling butler had brought in.

“It was this way, Henry,” resumed the professor, after he had partly satisfied the inner man: “Robert and I didn’t expect to be gone long, and unfortunately failed to take any provisions along. Had it not been for a cake of chocolate in Robert’s pocket, which we shared, we should have had nothing to eat since we left.”

“But you haven’t told me where you were last night,” persisted Henry.

“Tell him, Robert.”

“Well, after we ran out of power because the storage batteries had not been fully charged, and narrowly missed sinking that freighter, we had just enough current left to suspend the _Sphere_ in midair. Then we started the engines driving the dynamos, and soon had sufficient power to start back. But boy! It was a close shave.” Robert paused reminiscently.

“We started back, but changed our minds and decided to see some more of the country first. You see, at five hundred or more miles an hour, it is quite a temptation to look around a bit.”

Henry’s countenance registered a curious combination of astonishment and disbelief.

“Fact,” put in Professor Palmer. “Could have done much better than that, but didn’t want to heat up the _Sphere_ uncomfortably by excessive air friction.”

Henry looked very much as if he thought he might be the victim of a little spoofing. Such wild claims, uttered so coolly, confused him and aroused his natural skepticism.

Robert resumed his narrative, with a touch of pardonable pride. Behind him Jarvis stood spellbound, mouth half open, drinking in every word.

“So we flew over to New York, Boston and Baltimore, and looked them over. Great sport. We became so interested that twilight was upon us before we had given it a thought.

“It was pretty dark by the time we got back this way. We forgot, too, that the sun is visible considerably longer from a great height than it is from the earth’s surface.

“The result was that we could not find our way back here in the dark, without lights to guide us. So after a fruitless attempt, we gave up and landed in a large field. There we stayed until dawn, when, upon ascending again, we discovered that we were only a couple of miles from here.”

“Moral: Carry a searchlight, and ye shall find,” contributed the professor.

“And some sandwiches,” added Robert, returning to his interrupted attack upon the bacon and eggs.

7

The following weeks were crowded ones for the Palmer household. The account of the _Sphere_ and the activities at the laboratories were quickly connected by the sharp newspaper world, and acknowledged by Professor Palmer.

A deluge of newspaper reporters followed. The first were a diversion; the rest quickly became a nuisance. Once more did journalistic imagination run wild. Though both Robert and the professor refused to commit themselves on the subject, the Palmer-Margard feud was revived, colored with a wealth of imaginary data concerning prospective trips to Mars in the _Sphere_.

The _Sphere_ was photographed and sketched countless times, as were Professor Palmer and Robert. Even Henry came in for a share of publicity.

But the professor had long since determined to attempt the trip to Mars in the _Sphere_. With this in mind he set about mastering the intricacies of its apparatus.

The prospect of venturing into the unknown regions beyond the Earth’s attraction is not one that appeals to the faint-hearted. Even Professor Palmer frequently had moments of indecision when he all but decided to drop the project. It would be so easy, reasoned his weaker self, to drop the matter entirely. The _Sphere’s_ scope on the Earth was sufficient to make them both a vast fortune, and to bring them great fame.

Nevertheless, he remained stedfast in his decision in spite of the advice and warnings of his friends, which were anything but reassuring. He was willing to be a martyr for the possible enlightenment of the world.

It was Robert, though, who strengthened the professor’s determination, for he insisted upon accompanying him on the unusual journey.

“I am but an old man, Robert,” Professor Palmer argued, “while you are a young man in your prime, with a long, promising career before you. The chances of the _Sphere’s_ reaching Mars safely and returning, in spite of its remarkable powers, are extremely uncertain. Who knows what strange phenomena it may encounter in the depths of space? Suppose its apparatus should fail midway. Think of the fate that may await us. Even if we reached Mars, and found it inhabited with intelligent beings, how do we know we should be permitted to return? Take my advice, my boy, and remain here. You may lose the _Sphere_, but you know its principle, and have proved its practicability. You can command the services of the world’s best mechanical skill in the rapid construction of another _Sphere_, and still others. In addition, I shall leave you my entire estate and possessions.”

Robert was deeply moved by Professor Palmer’s concern over him and by his generosity.

“You have been very good to me,” he said. “I appreciate it deeply. But I am going with you. We will share the dangers together, and together we will also share the glory of achievement. I believe we are going to succeed.”

And so, with these two declarations was sealed the pact of partnership which was to carry them together on the perilous journey.

* * * * *

When their final intention of attempting to reach Mars was announced, the journalistic world fairly seethed with excitement. Every magazine issue contained portraits of Robert and Professor Palmer, accompanied by cuts of the _Sphere_ and the professor’s latest maps and photographs of the red planet. Never had any human undertaking even mildly approached theirs in magnitude. They were hailed as the heroes of the hour.

It was agreed that the secrets of the _Sphere_ were to be set down and placed in a safety deposit box with a certain great trust company, to be opened and read only in case Robert and the professor failed to return after two years’ time. Thus, the world could not lose the secret of this remarkable invention.

Professor Margard, at this point, proved that his opposition to Professor Palmer’s theories was entirely impersonal. In published interviews, he highly commended his worthy contemporary’s courage, as well as that of his companion; but he deplored the dangerous project in the face of what he considered conclusive evidence against the possible existence of inhabitants on Mars. “Misdirected courage; misplaced martrydom,” he termed their intentions.

“Misdirected fiddlesticks,” snorted Professor Palmer when he read this. “We’ll show these people a thing or two.”

Two weeks were devoted to final preparations for the remarkable adventure. A powerful, adjustable searchlight had now been installed within a socket in the bottom of the _Sphere_ to facilitate night travel and landings in the future. Petrol tanks were filled to capacity, and a supply of water taken on, some of which would be used in the cooling coils of the engines. A liberal quantity of life-giving oxygen was forced into the high-pressure tanks. Without this to constantly freshen the air within the _Sphere_, they could not live, as, after passing beyond the Earth’s envelope of atmosphere into the void of space, they would have no means of replenishing their air supply. A small supply of nitrogen was also added as a precaution against the total loss of the little ball of atmosphere guarded by the walls of the _Sphere_.

While oxygen had to be replenished as their respiration consumed it, the supply of nitrogen would remain virtually the same except for a slight seepage through the sealed walls when the protecting pressure of the Earth’s atmosphere was removed. The atmospheric pressure within the _Sphere_ would be about fifteen pounds to the square inch, with the absolute vacuum of space hungrily enveloping the exterior. An apparatus for absorbing the carbonic acid gas thrown off by their lungs was also a part of the _Sphere’s_ equipment.

Robert tinkered about the _Sphere_, constantly inspecting every part with painstaking care. The resilient rubber window strips, insuring against the loss of the precious atmosphere, were looked to with especial care. The heavy glass panes were examined minutely for possible signs of fracture, or flaws. Such a defect would prove disastrous if it should give way under the pressure within when they were in space. They would then be placed in a vacuum in which no living body can exist. So sudden would such a disaster be that they would have no opportunity, nor means, of saving themselves. All windows, however, were equipped with double panes for safety as well as warmth. They were also fitted outside with guards of heavy wire net.

The lubricating reservoirs of the gyrostats were filled carefully; the bearings were cleaned perfectly. Engines were tuned, and, in short, every bit of mechanism was tested and regulated to a point of perfection.

On the first day of August everything was in readiness for the start of the momentous journey.

Provisions, chiefly of the non-perishable and concentrated variety, had been generously stored in the _Sphere’s_ food chests. There was a sufficient quantity to last them for months.

Although the world at large understood that the _Sphere_ would start on its trip about this time, Robert and the professor had decided to withhold information as to the exact day or hour of their departure. Neither one desired a public demonstration. In spite of the pleas of divers reporters who besieged them, they refused to divulge the time set for their departure.

* * * * *

As the last day of their stay on Earth approached, Robert was torn by conflicting emotions. At one moment the venture stood forth in all its glory of achievement and adventure; the next, with appalling realization of its vastness, its unknown terrors. From time immemorial, man has instinctively dreaded the unknown, and Robert was plainly afraid. But, though the possibility of backing out did naturally occur to him with devilish persistence, he always rejected it promptly, determinedly. He would not countenance the thought of deserting the professor.

It had finally been decided to start on the following day, the second of the month.

Anxious reporters hovered about the place, each eager to make a “scoop” for his own paper. The more enterprising tried to wheedle some information out of Henry or the taciturn Jasper.

“Now, young mon, ye’ll kindly bate it. I’ve no time to bother with the likes of ye,” the good-natured but sorely bothered Jarvis finally told them, one after another, as they approached him.

Henry, equally annoyed, decided upon cunning.

“I’m not certain,” he was repeating, confidentially, for the third time that day, “but I understand that they plan starting on the sly tomorrow night.”

The young reporter with the brilliant red hair listened with apparently keen interest. He thanked the secretary politely, and departed. But a curious smile on his face as he turned away would not have exactly reassured Henry had he seen it. Evidently the redhead retained some ideas of his own. His sharp, intelligent features did not give him the appearance of one easily fooled by subterfuge.

And indeed he was not. Hugh Taggert had a trait of always trying to out-think the other fellow--and he usually succeeded. Probably it was this that had made him the most valuable man on the _Morning Chronicle’s_ staff of reporters.

That the secretary had tried to mislead him Taggert felt certain. But as to when the _Sphere_ was scheduled to start, he knew no more than before. However, Henry’s statement had a significance which suggested something to his alert mind. The night start did not seem unlikely, but that a man of the character he keenly judged Henry Simms to be should readily give his employer’s secret plans away, did seem unlikely. He determined not only to redouble his vigilance, but to remain on watch that very night instead of waiting for the next night.

Henry’s mistake was in mentioning anything about night at all. His idea, of course, was merely to induce the troublesome reporters to lose a whole night’s sleep uselessly.

As a matter of fact, it mattered little to Robert and the professor whether their departure was observed or not. It simply amused them to evade the persistence of their besiegers if they could.

8

Despite their determination, and the intense interest in their great project, it was with many secret misgivings that Robert and Professor Palmer stood without the improvised hangar on that memorable night. They were about to embark on the strangest journey that man had ever attempted.

Henry Simms alone accompanied them to see them off. Till the last he had tried to persuade them to abandon the dangerous project, but without avail.

To Robert, the stars had never seemed quite so brilliant, the night so bewitching. The very air seemed to have a special tang and sweetness which he had never before noticed. The myriad sounds of the night possessed a magic power of enchantment over him. He caught himself wondering inconsequently whether he should ever again hear the soothing voice of the crickets and other denizens of the summer twilight; whether such sounds might be heard on Mars if they reached it.

Quietly they took leave of Henry and filed into the _Sphere_. The trap slammed shut, and Robert and the professor were enveloped in the dead, black silence of the _Sphere’s_ interior. It was at this point that Robert’s resolution reached its ebb. Had Professor Palmer turned to him at that moment and again begged him to remain safely on Earth, he could not have resisted the temptation.

Never had a glow of light seemed so comforting as that which flooded the _Sphere_ a moment later. The temptation of the previous minutes fled. In its place Robert felt only an eagerness to be on his way. Nevertheless, when they had mounted to the main compartment, he opened one of the windows and leaned out, thirstily drinking in deep breaths of the keen night air.

Toward the east a silver tinge on the horizon heralded the rising of the moon. The two tall stacks of the laboratories were silhouetted sharply against the brightening sky. Their black outlines were registered indelibly in Robert’s memory for years afterward. It all seemed like a grotesque dream. Somewhere the shrill scream of a screech-owl cut into the night, breaking the spell.

Final farewells were passed with Henry below, and the window slammed to into its soft rubberstripped socket. The air-purifying devices were put into operation.

With Henry’s aid they had already removed the _Sphere_ from its stall. Its machinery had been carefully inspected that afternoon. With a final glance over everything, they prepared to start at once. For the first time the full electrified lifting power of the disk was to be used. Storage batteries had been charged to capacity.

“All ready, professor?” called Robert.

“Let her go.”

There was a soft jar, and the Earth began dropping away. The altimeter registered three thousand feet when Robert opened the second shutter. Immediately the landscape began receding at a disconcerting rate. With a moment of involuntary hesitation, Robert pushed the third button, entirely baring the disk’s surface. An answering roar from without indicated the terrific speed at which they were leaving the Earth’s surface.

“Twenty thousand,” read Professor Palmer.

Almost as he finished speaking the instrument registered another thousand feet. They were rising at virtually the same rate as they had been traveling parallel to the Earth’s surface during their original trial trip.

The moon, nearly full, was now in full view because of their height. It had also risen sufficiently to cast long, grotesque shadows of trees and other objects on the Earth’s surface. Roads appeared as narrow, winding ribbons; houses as mere faint blots.

A minute later they had reached a level of 62,000 feet. Doltaire’s remarkable and recently established airplane record of 46,800 feet was already eclipsed by more than 15,000 feet! The dusky landscape began to take on a blurred appearance. As yet Robert had not turned the current into the disk, fearing excessive air friction. Time enough for that when they had arisen beyond the belt of atmosphere which enveloped the Earth some 200 miles deep. This figure had been approximated from observations of falling meteors, which become white-hot from air friction as they fall with terrific speed from space into the envelope of atmosphere.

* * * * *

“Ah--pardon me, gentlemen,” a quiet voice said suddenly.

Robert and the professor wheeled sharply, thoroughly startled.

To their astonishment, they beheld a man walking toward them!

“W-where did you come from?” stammered Robert, the first to recover his speech.

The newcomer, however, did not seem to share their surprize in the least. Rather he appeared to be very much at ease. His brilliant red hair, the easy and pleasant smile on his intelligent features, stamped him as an ordinary, normal person. But how had he come there?

“My apologies, gentlemen,” spoke the stranger. “I determined to cover this trip for _The Chronicle_, and hid in a storeroom. Hugh Taggert’s my name.”

He advanced and shook hands with them both heartily.

“Thought I might as well get acquainted right away,” he ran on, “since we are going to be companions all the way to Mars. Nifty little ship you’ve got.”

Until now their astonishment had kept Robert and the professor speechless. With the disclosure of the identity of the nervy young reporter, however, the humor of the situation struck them both.

“We hadn’t counted on company,” said the professor, “but now that you’re here, I can’t say that I’m sorry. Kind of livens the trip up, eh, Robert? Not so lonesome. But you’ve got your nerve, young man!”

“You’re certainly welcome, so far as I’m concerned, Taggert,” said Robert, agreeably. “Only you might have to share some scanty rations before we land.”

“Shan’t mind that,” was the reply. “Brought some myself to help out.”

He picked up a good-sized cubical package from where he had set it down a few minutes before.

“Bouillon cubes, malted milk tablets, and chocolate,” he explained, tapping the parcel.

“Fair enough,” said Robert.

“Boys,” interrupted the professor, “take a look at old Mother Earth now.”

With one accord they hurried to the windows to gaze upon the receding Earth, which for a minute they had almost forgotten.

The wavering altimeter indicated a height of more than 125,000 feet--almost twenty miles!

The semi-luminous Earth far below them now presented a dull, nebulous appearance, devoid of landmarks, except that far to the southeast a faint thread of lighter color wound its way irregularly across the country; this they judged to be the Ohio River. One other distinguishable mark was a small, dimly illuminated patch indicating the city near the laboratories.

“Good old Earth, good-bye,” said Taggert.

His customarily cheerful voice contained a note of awe. Indeed, the sight was sufficient to strike awe into anyone’s heart; but then, Taggert was thinking, too, of a certain dark-haired and brown-eyed lass who would be waiting anxiously for him to return to her.

At the end of a fifteen-minute wait, basing his estimate on their former rate of ascension, when the altimeter was still registering accurately, Robert calculated that they had reached a distance of approximately 150 miles above the Earth. At this distance the atmosphere should be sufficiently thinned to eliminate it as a factor of interference with their course or danger of air friction. He could now safely utilize the disk’s full magnetic power. With the resistance of the atmosphere reduced to nothing, their speed was doubtless already increasing, and with the maximum pull of the disk developed by the current from the storage batteries, their velocity would quickly double and redouble until they were rushing through space at a terrific rate. Thus would they continue exactly like a planet until checked by the attraction of some other body or a readjustment of the disk. Just how great a velocity they might obtain they had been unable to determine accurately, but it was considered not improbable that the _Sphere_ might reach Mars within a month.

Under Professor Palmer’s guidance Robert now laid their course for Mars, carefully focusing the disk upon it. The full propulsive force of the disk was about to be used for the first time. All three watched tensely through the windows as Robert prepared to throw on the switch that would charge the mythonite with electricity.

An answering jar was felt as contact was made with the first terminal. By degrees, their velocity was increased until the full energy of the powerful batteries was diverted into the disk.

“Why, the old gourd’s shrinking like a toy balloon!” gasped Taggert, watching the Earth intently.

Indeed, the rapidly changing appearance of the Earth was evidence of the remarkable rate at which they were shooting away from it. Gradually the entire continent took shape before their eyes, presenting an appearance startlingly like the relief maps one sees in every geography. Here and there, however, fields of clouds hid sections of it.

It was at this point that Robert was possessed with a temporary but almost overwhelming impulse to rush the _Sphere_ back to the Earth. He suddenly recalled its many comforts and pleasures; its wonderful scenes, sunsets and countless other beauties. All these things seemed a thousandfold more desirable than the cold, cheerless and mysterious void through which they were rushing. It would be such a simple matter to return now while he knew they could; but later--who knew what would be their fate? A moment later the temptation was gone. The possibilities of the curious planet toward which they were bound filled his imagination. He became anxious only to reach it as quickly as possible.

“Ugh,” he shivered, suddenly realizing that their air in the _Sphere_ had become chilled.

“B-r-r,” echoed the professor and Taggert.

“Why, it’s down to freezing,” exclaimed Taggert, as he caught sight of the thermometer near him on the inner wall.

“Forgot all about our stoves,” chuckled the professor, turning on one of the two electric heaters with which the chamber had been equipped.