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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“Look out now, boys,” he called, “I’m going to light the fuse. I didn’t
make a heavy charge, but it might do some damage, so we’ll go outside.”
They hurried from the place, with its silent guests and waiters, and
reached the street. A moment later there sounded a dull explosion.
“Now, let’s see what we’ve got!” called Jack.
Back to the kitchen they ran, the two boys in the lead.
“Why—why—the stone has disappeared!” cried Jack, in disappointment,
as he glanced all around.
“Yes, but look here,” added Mark. “Here are bits of meat,” and he
picked up from the stone table some scraps of meat.
“Is it really roast beef?” cried Jack. “Good to eat?”
Mark smelled of it. Then he put the morsel cautiously to his lips. The
next instant it had disappeared. It was proof enough.
“Good! I should say it was good!” exclaimed Mark. “I wish there was
more of it! What happened to the rock of meat, Andy?”
“I used too heavy a charge, and it blew all to pieces. I’ll know better
next time. There are lots more chunks of meat, and we’ll soon have a
feast. I’ll make another bombshell.”
He worked rapidly while Jack sampled some of the shreds of meat that
had been scattered about by the explosion. The beef was perfectly
cooked, and in spite of its great age it was as fresh and palatable as
frozen meat ever is. Besides the heat generated by the explosion had
partly thawed it, so that there was no trouble in chewing it.
Once more came the explosion, a slight one this time, and when the
adventurers re-entered the kitchen they found that what had been a lump
of stone had been broken open, and the middle part, like the kernel of
a nut, was sweet and good. It was cooked, so they did not have to eat
it raw.
“Say, maybe this isn’t good!” exclaimed Jack, chewing away. “It’s the
best ever!”
“And there’s enough in this city to keep us alive for months, if we
can’t find the projectile in that time,” declared Andy.
“Don’t you think we will?” asked Mark.
“Of course, but I was only just mentioning it. Now, eat all you want,
boys, I have quite a few cartridges left. I didn’t fire away as many as
I thought I did, and we can blast out a dinner any time we want it. So
eat hearty!”
They needed no second invitation, and for the first time in several
days they had enough to eat. It was comfortable in the petrified
restaurant, too, for they could move about without carrying their life-torches constantly in their hand. The gases from the perforated boxes
filled the rooms, and were not quickly dispelled by the poisonous
vapors as they were outside, so they could walk around in comparative
freedom.
“Now, if we could only blast out a loaf of bread, we’d be all right,”
said Jack. They found some petrified loaves, but on breaking one open
it was found to be stone all the way through.
Spurred on by an overwhelming thirst, they wandered about the dead
city, but found no moisture. They tried to chew some of the pale green
vegetation that grew more plentiful on this side of the moon, but it
was exceedingly bitter, and they could not stand it, though there was
some juice in it.
They crossed the city, and wandered out into the country beyond. It
appeared to have been a fertile land before the stone death settled
down on it. They saw farmers in the fields, turned into images, beside
the oxen with which they had been plowing. But nowhere was there a sign
of water. Had it not been for a frozen rice pudding, they would have
perished that first day in the stone city.
As it was, they dragged out a miserable existence, eating from time to
time of the blasted meat. But even this palled on them after a while,
for their lips were parched and cracked, and their tongues were swollen
in their mouths.
“I can’t stand this any longer!” cried Jack.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mark.
“Go out and look for water. There must be some in the country outside
if there isn’t any in this city. I’m going to have a look. Besides, if
I’m going to die, I might as well die while I’m busy. I’m not going to
sit here in this dreadful place and give up.”
His words urged them to follow him, and, with lagging steps, for they
were weak and faint, they went from the restaurant, which they had made
their home since coming to the petrified city.
Out into the open fields they went, but their search seemed likely to
be in vain. Between times of looking for the water they scanned the sky
for a sight of the projectile, which, hoping against hope, they thought
they might see hovering over them. But there was no sight of it.
They came to a vast, level plain, girt with mountains, a lonesome
place, where there was no sign of life. Listlessly they walked over it.
Suddenly Andy, who was in the lead, uttered a cry and sprang forward.
The boys ran to him, and found the old hunter gazing into the depths of
a great black pool, which filled a depression in the surface of the
moon. It was a small crater, and was filled, nearly to the top, with
some black liquid, which gloomily reflected back the light of the sun.
“I’m going to have a drink!” cried Andy, and before the boys could stop
him he threw himself face downward at the edge of the black pool.
THE SIGNAL FAILS
“Stop! Don’t drink that! It may be poison!” yelled Jack.
“Pull him back!” shouted Mark, and together they advanced on the old
hunter. They tried to drag him away from the black pool, but Andy shook
them off.
“Let—me—alone!” he gasped, as he bent over the uninviting liquid and
drank deeply. “It’s water, I tell you—good water—and I’m almost—
dead—from—thirst!”
“Water? Is that water?” cried Jack.
“Well, it’s the nearest thing to it that I’ve tasted since I’ve been
lost on the moon,” spoke Andy, as he slowly arose. “My, but that was
good!” he added fervently.
“But—water?” gasped Mark. “How can there be water here?”
“Taste and see,” invited the old hunter.
They hesitated a moment, and then followed his example. The liquid—
water it evidently had once been—had a peculiar taste, but it was not
bad. By some curious chemical action, which they never understood, the
liquid had been prevented from evaporating, nor was it frozen or
petrified as was everything else on the moon.
What gave the liquid its peculiar black color they could not learn.
Sufficient for them that it was capable of quenching their thirst, and
they all drank deeply and refilled their bottles.
“Now, I feel like eating again,” spoke Andy, “We can take some of this
back with us, and have a good meal on blasted meat. Whenever we get
thirsty we’ll have to make a trip back here for water.”
The boys agreed with him. They examined the black pool. It appeared to
be filled by hidden springs, though there was no bubbling, and the
surface was as unruffled as a mirror. The liquid was not very inviting,
being as black as ink, but the color appeared to be a sort of
reflection, for when the water, if such it was, had been put into
bottles it at once became clear, nor did it stain their faces or hands.
“Well, it’s another queer thing in this queer moon,” said Jack. “I wish
the two professors could see this place. They’d have lots to write
about.”
“I wonder if we’ll ever see them again?” asked Mark.
“Sure,” replied Jack hopefully. “We’ll fill our lunch baskets, take a
lot of water along, and have another hunt for the projectile soon.”
They did, but with no success. For several days more they lived in the
petrified city, the meat encased in its block of stone, which Andy
blasted from time to time, and the black water keeping them alive. From
time to time they went out in the surrounding country, looking for the
projectile. But they could not find the place where they had left it,
nor could they find even the place where they had picked up the lost
tool that had cost them so much suffering. They were more completely
lost than ever. They crossed back and forth on the bridge over the
crater chasm, and penetrated for many miles in a radius from that,
marking their way by chipping off pieces of the rocky pinnacles, as
they did not want to leave the petrified city behind.
From some peaks they caught glimpses of other towns that had fallen
under the strange spell of the petrification. Some were larger and some
smaller than the one they called “home.”
Jack proposed visiting some of them, thinking they might find better
food, but Mark and Andy decided it was best to stay where they were, as
they were nearer the supposed location of the projectile.
“I think they’ll manage to fix it up somehow, so it will move,” said
Andy, “and then they’ll come to look for us. I hope it will be soon,
though.”
“Why?” asked Jack, struck by something in the tone of the old hunter.
“Because,” replied Andy, “I am afraid our life-torches won’t last much
longer. Mine seems to be weakening. I have to hold it very close to my
face now to breathe in comfort, while at first the oxygen from it was
so strong that I could hold it two feet off and never notice the
poisonous moon vapors.”
This was a new danger, and, thinking of it, the faces of the boys
became graver than ever. Death seemed bound to get them somehow.
Two more days went by. They had now been lost on the moon over a week.
Each one now noticed that his life-torch was weakening. How much longer
would they last? They dared not answer that question. They could only
hope.
The sun, too, was moving away from them. Soon the long night would set
in. By Mark’s computation there was only three more days of daylight
left. What would happen in the desolate darkness?
As they were returning from the black pool, with their water bottles
filled, and put inside the fur bags to prevent the frost from reaching
them, Mark happened to gaze over across a line of towering peaks. What
he saw caused him to gasp in astonishment.
“Jack! Andy! See!” he whispered hoarsely, pointing a trembling finger
at the sky.
There, outlined against the cloudless heavens, was a long, black shape,
floating through the air about two miles distant.
“The projectile! The Annihilator!” yelled Jack. “Shout! Call to them!
Wave your hands! Andy, fire your gun! They have started off, and they
can’t see us. We must make them hear!”
Together they raised their voices in a mighty shout. The old hunter
fired his gun several times. They waved their hands frantically.
But the projectile never swerved from its course. On it moved slowly,
those in it paying no heed to the wanderers, for they did not hear
them. Andy fired his gun again, but the signal failed, and a few
minutes later the Annihilator was lost to sight behind a great peak.
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