Lost on the Moon Part 13

The work went on, the last things to be put aboard the projectile being a number of scientific instruments. The injured one wandered in and out, now being in the house and again in the big shed. He seemed restless and ill at ease, and frequently he walked to the front gate and gazed down the road.

"You seem to be looking for some one," spoke Jack. "Are you expecting your girl to come along and bid you good-by, Mark?"

"Who--me? No, I--I was just looking to see if--if it was going to rain."

"Rain? Well, rain won't make much difference to us soon. We will be outside of the earth's atmosphere in a jiffy after we have started, and then rain won't worry us. Is your stateroom all fixed up?"

"No, I didn't think of that. Guess I'd better look after it."

The two started together for the projectile. The stout one entered first, and made his way through the engine room and main cabin to the compartment off which the staterooms opened. He entered one.

"Here, that's not yours," cried Jack. "That's where Professor Henderson sleeps. Yours is next to mine."

"That's right; I forgot," mumbled the other. "I must be getting absent minded since my accident. But I'll be all right soon. I'll get my room to rights, and then probably we'll start."

"I guess so," answered Jack, but he shook his head as he gazed after his chum. "Mark has certainly changed," he murmured. "I wish he'd take those bandages off, so I could get a look at his face."

The last details were completed. The big _Annihilator_ had been run out on trucks into the yard surrounding the shed, ready to be hurled through the air. The shop, shed and house had been locked up and given in charge of a caretaker, who would remain on guard until our friends returned.

"Are we all ready?" asked Professor Henderson, as he stood ready to close the main entrance door and seal it hermetically.

"All ready, I guess," answered Jack. The stout one had gone to his stateroom, where he could be heard moving about.

"I'm ready," announced Professor Roumann. "Say the word and I'll start the motor." He was in the engine room, looking over the machinery. At that moment there came a loud yell from the galley where Was.h.i.+ngton White was.

"Heah, heah! Come back!" cried the colored man. "My Shanghai rooster is got loose!" he yelled, and, an instant later, the fowl came sailing out of the projectile, with Was.h.i.+ngton in full chase after him.

"I'll help you catch him," volunteered Jack, springing to the cook's aid, while Professor Henderson laughed, and a bandaged figure, looking from a stateroom port, wondered at the delay in starting the projectile.

CHAPTER XII

MARK'S ESCAPE

Mark Sampson was alone in the deserted house. Bound hand and foot, stripped of his clothing, and attired in some old garments that the tramps who made a hanging-out place of the old mansion had cast aside, the unfortunate lad was stretched on a pile of bagging, his heart beating partly with fear and partly with rage over a desire to escape and punish the scoundrel responsible for his plight.

The man who had captured him, after taking away Mark's clothes, had chuckled, as though at some joke.

"You may think this is funny," spoke the lad bitterly, "but you won't be so pleased when my friends get after you."

"They'll never get after me," boasted the man. "This is a good joke. To think that I can pa.s.s myself off as you; that I can join them in the projectile, and they never will be the wiser!"

"They'll soon discover that you are disguised as me," declared Mark, "and when they do they'll have you arrested."

"Yes, but they'll not discover it until we have left the earth, and are on our way to the moon. Then it will be too late to turn back, and my object will have been accomplished. I will be with them in the _Annihilator_, and I'll have my revenge! The projectile is due to sail to-morrow, and I'll be on hand. I'm going to leave you now. I have left orders with a friend of mine that you are to be released to-morrow night. In the meanwhile you will have to be as comfortable as you can.

I wish you no harm, but I must keep you here.

"I will feed you well before I go, and put some water where you can get it. But I must leave you tied. I'll not gag you, for, no matter how you yell, no one will hear you. I have posted a notice in front of this place that it is under the watch of the police, so no tramps will venture in, and your friends will not come back.

"Now, just make yourself comfortable here, and I'll go to the moon in your place. I think I shall enjoy the trip. As I said, you will be released to-morrow night, several hours after the projectile has left the earth."

"How do you know it is to start to-morrow morning?" asked Mark.

"Oh, I have been spying around, and I overheard the professors talking.

I know a thing or two, and I'll be on hand, on time, in your place!

Now, I have to leave you. I've left ten dollars to pay for your suit, which I need to disguise myself with."

Then the man was gone, and Mark was left with his bitter thoughts to keep him company. The whole daring scheme of the man had been revealed.

He did look something like Mark, and, attired in the lad's clothes, and by keeping his face concealed, he might pa.s.s himself off as Jack's chum; at least, until after the projectile had started.

"And then, as he says, it will be too late to return to earth and get me," thought Mark bitterly. "Oh, why did I ever try to learn this man's secret? Who is he, anyhow? Why didn't I wait for Jack at the barn, as I promised? It's all my fault. I wonder if I can't get loose?"

Mark struggled several hours desperately and at last he felt the ropes giving slightly. He redoubled his efforts. Strand by strand the cords parted. He put all his efforts into one last attempt, and to his great joy he felt his hands separate. He was partly free!

But scarcely half his task was accomplished. He had yet to discover the secret of the hidden room--a room, as he afterward learned, which had been built during slavery days to conceal the poor black men who were escaping from the South.

"But now I have my hands to work with!" exulted Mark.

Resting a bit after his strenuous labors, he took a long drink of water and attacked the ropes on his feet. They were comparatively easy to loosen, and soon he stood up unbound.

"Now for the secret panel!" he exclaimed, for he was convinced that it was by some such means that his captor had entered and left. As has already been explained, Mark knew on which side of his prison the opening was likely to be--it would be where the warning knocks had sounded. He began a minute inspection of that wall.

But if Mark hoped to speedily discover the secret he was doomed to disappointment. He went over every inch of the surface, seemingly, and pressed on every depression or projection that met his eye, as he pa.s.sed the candle flame along the wall.

Success did not reward him, and, as hour after hour pa.s.sed, and the candle burned lower and lower, Mark began to despair.

"I must escape before the projectile leaves," he murmured. "It will never do to let them take that man with them under the impression that they have me. I must escape! I will!"

Once more he began the tiresome task of seeking the secret spring. The candle was spluttering in the socket now. It would burn hardly another minute. Desperately Mark sought.

At last, just as the candle gave a dying gasp and flared brightly up prior to going out, the lad saw a small screw head he had not noticed before. It was sunk deep in a board.

"I'll press that and see what happens!" he exclaimed.

With a suddenness that was startling, he found himself in total darkness. The candle had burned out, but he had his finger on the screw. He pressed it with all his force.

There was a rumbling sound in the darkness, a movement as if some heavy body had slid out of the way, and Mark felt a breath of air on his cheeks. Then he saw a dim light.

"Oh, I'm out! I'm out!" he cried joyously, breathing a prayer of thankfulness at his deliverance. "I'm free! I pushed on the right spring, and the panel slid back!"

He fairly leaped forward. The morning light was streaming in through the broken windows. He saw himself in the old hall of the mansion, at the head of the stairs, in a sort of anteroom, the mantle of which apartment had swung aside to give him egress from the secret chamber through a hole in the wall. He was free!

"But am I in time?" he cried. "It is morning--and about ten o'clock, I should judge. I've been working to get free all night. Will I be in time?"

He gave one last look behind at his prison and sprang down the rickety stairs. He had but one thought--to reach home in time to unmask the villain who was impersonating him--to be in time to make the journey to the moon.