Lost on the Moon by Roy Rockwood (best fiction novels .txt) 📕
But the spirit of adventure was still strong in the hearts of the boys and the professor. One day, in the midst of some risky experiments at college, Jack and Mark, as related in "Through Space to Mars," received a telegram from Professor Henderson, calling them home.
There they found their friend entertaining as a guest Professor Santell Roumann, who was almost as celebrated as was Mr. Henderson, in the matter of inventions.
Professor Roumann made a strange proposition. He said if the old scientist and his young friends would build the proper kind of a projectile, they could make a trip to the planet Mars, by means of a wonderful motor, operated by a power called Etherium, of which Mr. Roumann held the secret.
After some discussion, the projectile, called the Annihilator, from the fact that it annihilated space, was begun. It was two hundred feet long, ten feet in diameter in the middle, and shaped like a cigar. I
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to gain much valuable scientific knowledge here, Professor Roumann. We
must at once begin our observations.”
“I agree with you,” spoke the German.
Andy Sudds said nothing. He was looking around for a sight of game,
with his rifle in readiness. But not a sign of life met his eager eyes.
Once they were outside the projectile it was even more desolate than it
had seemed when they looked from the observation windows. It was
absolutely still. Not a breath of wind fanned their cheeks, for where
there is no air to be heated and cooled there could be no wind which is
caused by the differences of temperature of the air, the cold rushing
in to fill the vacuum caused by the rising of the hot vapors. Clad in
their fur-lined garments, which effectually defied the cold, the
adventurers stepped out.
Over the rugged ground they went, gazing curiously about them. It was
like being in the wildest part of the Canadian Rocky Mountains of our
earth, and, in fact, the surface of the moon was not unlike the
mountainous and hilly sections of the earth. There were no long ranges
of rugged peaks, though, but rather scattered pinnacles and deep
hollows, great craters adjoining immense, towering steeples of rocks,
with comparatively level ground in between.
The life-torches worked to perfection. As our friends carried them,
there arose about their bodies a cloud of invisible vapor, which,
however, was as great a protection from the poisonous gases as a coat
of mail would have been.
“This is great!” exclaimed Jack. “It’s much better than to have to put
on a diving-suit and carry a cylinder of oxygen or compressed air about
on our shoulders.”
They strolled away from the projectile and gazed back at it. Nothing
moved—not a sound broke the stillness. There was only the blazing
sunlight, which, however, did not seem to warm the atmosphere much, for
it was very chilly. On every side were great rocks, rugged and broken,
with here and there immense fissures in the surface of the moon,
fissures that seemed miles and miles long.
“Well, here’s where I look for diamonds,” called Jack, as he stepped
boldly out, followed by Mark. “Let’s see who’ll find the first
sparkler.”
“All right,” agreed his chum, and they strolled away together, slightly
in advance of the two professors and Andy, who remained together, the
scientist discussing the phenomena on every side and the hunter looking
in vain for something to shoot. But he had come to a dead world.
Almost before they knew it Jack and Mark had gone on quite some
distance. Though they were not aware of it at that moment, it was much
easier to walk on the moon than it was on the earth, for they weighed
only one sixth as much, and the attraction of gravitation was so much
less.
But suddenly Jack remembered that curious fact, and, stooping, he
picked up a stone. He cast it from him, at the same time uttering a
yell.
“What’s the matter?” called Mark.
“Look how far I fired that rock!” shouted Jack. “Talk about it being
easy! why, I believe I could throw a mile if I tried hard!”
“It goes six times as far as it would on the earth,” spoke his chum,
“and we can also jump six times as far.”
“Then let’s try that!” proposed Jack. “There’s a nice level place over
there. Come on, I’ll wager that I can beat you.”
“Done!” agreed Mark, and they hurried to the spot, their very walking
being much faster than usual.
“I’ll go first,” proposed Jack, “and you see if you can come up to me.”
He poised himself on a little hummock of rock, balanced himself for a
moment, and then hurled himself through space.
Prepared as he was, in a measure, for something strange, he never
bargained for what happened. It was as if he had been fired from some
catapult of the ancient Romans. Through the air he hurtled, like some
great flying animal, covering fifty feet from a standing jump.
“Say, that’s great!” yelled Mark. “Here I come, and I’ll beat–-”
He did not finish, for a cry of horror came from Jack.
“I’m going to fall into a crater—a bottomless pit! I’m on the edge of
it!” yelled the lad who had jumped.
And, with horror-stricken eyes, Mark saw his chum disappear from sight
beyond a pile of rugged rocks, toward which he had leaped. The last
glimpse Mark had was of the life-torch, which Jack held up in the air,
close to his head.
“Jack—in a crater!” gasped Mark, as he ran forward, holding his own
life-torch close to his mouth and nose.
WASHINGTON SEES A GHOST
Advancing by leaps and bounds, and getting over the ground in a manner
most surprising, Mark soon found himself on the edge of the great,
yawning crater, into which his chum Jack had started to slide. I say
started, for, fortunately, the lad had been saved from death but by a
narrow margin.
As Mark gazed down into the depths, which seemed fathomless, and which
were as black as night, he saw his friend clinging to a rocky
projection on the side of the extinct volcano. Jack had managed to
grasp a part of the rough surface as he slid down it after his reckless
jump. He looked up and saw Mark.
“Oh, Mark, can’t you save me?” he gasped. “Call Professor Henderson!”
“I’ll get you up, don’t worry!” called Mark, as confidently as he
could. “Hold tight, Jack. What has become of your life-torch?”
“I have it here by me. I didn’t drop it, and it’s on a piece of the
rock near my head. Otherwise I couldn’t breathe. Oh, this place is
fearfully deep. I guess it hasn’t any bottom.”
“Now, keep still, and don’t think about that. Save your strength, hold
fast, and I’ll get you up.”
But, having said that much, Mark was not so sure how next to proceed.
It was going to be no easy task to haul up Jack, and that without ropes
or other apparatus. Another matter that added to the danger was the
necessity of keeping the life-torch close to one’s face in order to
prevent death by the poisonous gases.
Mark’s first impulse was to hasten back and call the two professors,
but he looked over the desolate landscape, and could not see them, and
he feared that if he went away Jack might slip and fall into the
unknown depths of the crater.
“I’ve got to get him out alone,” decided Mark. “But how can I do it?”
He crawled cautiously nearer to the edge of the extinct volcano and
looked down. A few loose stones, dislodged by his weight, rattled down
the sides.
“Look out!” cried Jack quickly, “or you’ll fall, too!”
“I’ll be careful,” answered Mark, and then he drew away out of danger,
with a queer feeling about his heart, which was beating furiously. Mark
had hoped to be able to make his way down the side of the crater to
where his chum was and help him up. But a look at the steep sides and
the uncertain footing afforded by the loose rocks of lava-like
formation showed that this could not be done.
“I’ve got to think of a different scheme,” decided Mark, and, spurred
on by the necessity of acting quickly if he was to save Jack, he fairly
forced his brain to work. For he saw by the strained look on his chum’s
face that Jack could not hold out much longer.
“I have it!” cried Mark at length. “My fur coat! I can cut it into
strips of hide and make a rope. Then I can lower it down to Jack and
haul him up.”
He did not think, for the moment, of the cold he would feel when he
stripped off the fur garment, and when it did come to him in a flash he
never hesitated.
“After all, I’ve often been out without an overcoat on cold days,” he
said to himself. “I guess I can stand it for a while, and when Jack is
up I can run back to the projectile and keep warm that way.”
To think was to act, and Mark laid down his life-torch to take off the
big fur coat. The next instant he had toppled over, almost in a faint,
and, had he not fallen so that his head was near the small perforated
box on the end of the steel rod, whence came the life-giving gas, the
lad might have died.
He had forgotten, for the instant, the necessity of always keeping the
torch close to his face to prevent the poisonous gases of the moon from
overpowering him. Mark soon revived while lying on the ground, and,
rising, with his torch in his hand, he looked about him.
“I’ve got to have my two hands to work with,” he mused, “and yet I’ve
got to hold this torch close to my face. Say, a fellow ought to have
three hands if he’s going to visit the moon. What can I do?”
In an instant a plan came to him. He thrust the pointed end of the
steel rod in the crevice of some rocks, and it stood upright, so that
the perforated box of chemicals was on a level with his face.
“There,” said Mark aloud, “I guess that will work. I can use both my
hands now.” The plan was a good one. Next, taking off his coat, the lad
proceeded to cut it into strips, working rapidly. He called to Jack
occasionally, bidding him keep up his courage. “I’ll soon have you
out,” he said cheeringly.
In a few minutes Mark had a long, stout strip of hide, and, taking his
life-torch with him, he advanced once more to the edge of the crater.
He stuck the torch in between some rocks, as before, and looked down at
Jack.
“I—I can’t hold on much longer,” gasped the unfortunate lad. “Hurry,
Mark!”
“All right. I’m going to haul you up now. Can you hold on with one hand
long enough to slip the loop of this rope over your shoulders?”
“I guess so. But where did you get a rope?”
“I made it—cut up my fur coat.”
“But you’ll freeze!”
“Oh, I guess not. Here it comes, Jack. Get ready!”
Mark lowered the hide rope to his chum. The latter, who managed to get
one toe on a small, projecting rock, while he held on with his right
hand, used his left to adjust the loop over his shoulders and under his
arms.
“Are you all ready?” asked Mark.
“Yes, but can you pull me up?”
“Sure. I’m six times as strong as when on the earth. Hold steady now,
and keep the torch close to your face.”
Mark had placed some pieces of his fur coat under the rope where it
passed over the edge of the mouth of the crater to prevent the jagged
rocks from cutting the strips of hide.
“Here you come!” he cried to Jack, and he began to haul, taking care to
keep his own head near his torch, which was stuck upright. Mark had
spoken truly when he said he possessed much more than his usual
strength. Any one who has tried to haul up a person with a rope from a
hole, and with no pulleys to adjust the strain of the cable, knows what
a task it is.
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