"'THE MASTER OF THE WORLD\n\n\nBy\n\nJules Verne\n\n\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n 1 What Happened in the Mountains\n 2 I Reach Morganton\n 3 The Great Eyrie\n 4 A Meeting of the Automobile Club\n 5 Along the Shores of New England\n 6 The First Letter\n 7 A Third Machine\n 8 At Any Cost\n 9 The Second Letter\n 10 Outside the Law\n 11 The Campaign\n 12 Black Rock Creek\n 13 On Board the Terror\n 14 Niagara\n 15 The Eagle\'s Nest\n 16 Robur, the Conqueror\n 17 In the Name of the Law\n 18 The Old Housekeeper\'s Last Comment\n\n\n\n\nChapter 1\n\nWHAT HAPPENED IN THE MOUNTAINS\n\n\nIf I speak of myself in this story, it is because I have been deeply\ninvolved in its startling events, events doubtless among the most\nextraordinary which this twentieth century will witness. Sometimes I\neven ask myself if all this has really happened, if its pictures\ndwell in truth in my memory, and not merely in my imagination. In my\nposition as head inspector in the federal police department at\nWashington, urged on moreover by the desire, which has always been\nvery strong in me, to investigate and understand everything which is\nmysterious, I naturally became much interested in these remarkable\noccurrences. And as I have been employed by the government in various\nimportant affairs and secret missions since I was a mere lad, it also\nhappened very naturally that the head of my department placed In my\ncharge this astonishing investigation, wherein I found myself\nwrestling with so many impenetrable mysteries.\n\nIn the remarkable passages of the recital, it is important that you\nshould believe my word. For some of the facts I can bring no other\ntestimony than my own. If you do not wish to believe me, so be it. I\ncan scarce believe it all myself.\n\nThe strange occurrences began in the western part of our great\nAmerican State of North Carolina. There, deep amid the Blueridge\nMountains rises the crest called the Great Eyrie. Its huge rounded\nform is distinctly seen from the little town of Morganton on the\nCatawba River, and still more clearly as one approaches the mountains\nby way of the village of Pleasant Garden.\n\nWhy the name of Great Eyrie was originally given this mountain by the\npeople of the surrounding region, I am not quite Sure It rises rocky\nand grim and inaccessible, and under certain atmospheric conditions\nhas a peculiarly blue and distant effect. But the idea one would\nnaturally get from the name is of a refuge for birds of prey, eagles\ncondors, vultures; the home of vast numbers of the feathered tribes,\nwheeling and screaming above peaks beyond the reach of man. Now, the\nGreat Eyrie did not seem particularly attractive to birds; on the\ncontrary, the people of the neighborhood began to remark that on some\ndays when birds approached its summit they mounted still further,\ncircled high above the crest, and then flew swiftly away, troubling\nthe air with harsh cries.\n\nWhy then the name Great Eyrie? Perhaps the mount might better have\nbeen called a crater, for in the center of those steep and rounded\nwalls there might well be a huge deep basin. Perhaps there might even\nlie within their circuit a mountain lake, such as exists in other\nparts of the Appalachian mountain system, a lagoon fed by the rain\nand the winter snows.\n\nIn brief was not this the site of an ancient volcano, one which had\nslept through ages, but whose inner fires might yet reawake? Might\nnot the Great Eyrie reproduce in its neighborhood the violence of\nMount Krakatoa or the terrible disaster of Mont Pelee? If there were\nindeed a central lake, was there not danger that its waters,\npenetrating the strata beneath, would be turned to steam by the\nvolcanic fires and tear their way forth in a tremendous explosion,\ndeluging the fair plains of Carolina with an eruption such as that of\n1902 in Martinique?\n\nIndeed, with regard to this last possibility there had been certain\nsymptoms recently observed which might well be due to volcanic\naction. Smoke had floated above the mountain and once the country\nfolk passing near had heard subterranean noises, unexplainable\nrumblings. A glow in the sky had crowned the height at night.\n\nWhen the wind blew the smoky cloud eastward toward Pleasant Garden, a\nfew cinders and ashes drifted down from it. And finally one stormy\nnight pale flames, reflected from the clouds above the summit, cast\nupon the district below a sinister, warning light.\n\nIn presence of these strange phenomena, it is not astonishing that\nthe people of the surrounding district became seriously disquieted.\nAnd to the disquiet was joined an imperious need of knowing the true\ncondition of the mountain. The Carolina newspapers had flaring\nheadlines, \"The Mystery of Great Eyrie!\" They asked if it was not\ndangerous to dwell in such a region. Their articles aroused curiosity\nand fear--curiosity among those who being in no danger themselves\nwere interested in the disturbance merely as a strange phenomenon of\nnature, fear in those who were likely to be the victims if a\ncatastrophe actually occurred. Those more immediately threatened were\nthe citizens of Morganton, and even more the good folk of Pleasant\nGarden and the hamlets and farms yet closer to the mountain.\n\nAssuredly it was regrettable that mountain climbers had not\npreviously attempted to ascend to the summit of the Great Eyrie. The\ncliffs of rock which surrounded it had never been scaled. Perhaps\nthey might offer no path by which even the most daring climber could\npenetrate to the interior. Yet, if a volcanic eruption menaced all\nthe western region of the Carolinas, then a complete examination of\nthe mountain was become absolutely necessary.\n\nNow before the actual ascent of the crater, with its many serious\ndifficulties, was attempted, there was one way which offered an\nopportunity of reconnoitering the interior, with out clambering up\nthe precipices. In the first days of September of that memorable\nyear, a well-known aeronaut named Wilker came to Morganton with his\nballoon. By waiting for a breeze from the east, he could easily rise\nin his balloon and drift over the Great Eyrie. There from a safe\nheight above he could search with a powerful glass into its deeps.\nThus he would know if the mouth of a volcano really opened amid the\nmighty rocks. This was the principal question. If this were settled,\nit would be known if the surrounding country must fear an eruption at\nsome period more or less distant.\n\nThe ascension was begun according to the programme suggested. The\nwind was fair and steady; the sky clear; the morning clouds were\ndisappearing under the vigorous rays of the sun. If the interior of\nthe Great Eyrie was not filled with smoke, the aeronaut would be able\nto search with his glass its entire extent. If the vapors were\nrising, he, no doubt, could detect their source.\n\nThe balloon rose at once to a height of fifteen hundred feet, and\nthere rested almost motionless for a quarter of an hour. Evidently\nthe east wind, which was brisk upon the Surface of the earth, did not\nmake itself felt at that height. Then, unlucky chance, the balloon\nwas caught in an adverse current, and began to drift toward the east.\nIts distance from the mountain chain rapidly increased. Despite all\nthe efforts of the aeronaut, the citizens of Morganton saw the\nballoon disappear on the wrong horizon. Later, they learned that it\nhad landed in the neighborhood of Raleigh, the capital of North\nCarolina.\n\nThis attempt having failed, it was agreed that it should be tried\nagain under better conditions. Indeed, fresh rumblings were heard\nfrom the mountain, accompanied by heavy clouds and wavering\nglimmerings of light at night. Folk began to realize that the Great\nEyrie was a serious and perhaps imminent source of danger. Yes, the\nentire country lay under the threat of some seismic or volcanic\ndisaster.\n\nDuring the first days of April of that year, these more or less vague\napprehensions turned to actual panic. The newspapers gave prompt echo\nto the public terror. The entire district between the mountains and\nMorganton was sure that an eruption was at hand.\n\nThe night of the fourth of April, the good folk of Pleasant Garden\nwere awakened by a sudden uproar. They thought that the mountains\nwere falling upon them. They rushed from their houses, ready for\ninstant flight, fearing to see open before them some immense abyss,\nengulfing the farms and villages for miles around.\n\nThe night was very dark. A weight of heavy clouds pressed down upon\nthe plain. Even had it been day the crest of the mountains would have\nbeen invisible.\n\nIn the midst of this impenetrable obscurity, there was no response to\nthe cries which arose from every side. Frightened groups of men,\nwomen, and children groped their way along the black roads in wild\nconfusion. From every quarter came the screaming voices: \"It is an\nearthquake!\" \"It is an eruption!\" \"Whence comes it?\" \"From the Great\nEyrie!\"\n\nInto Morganton sped the news that stones, lava, ashes, were raining\ndown upon the country.\n\nShrewd citizens of the town, however, observed that if there were an\neruption the noise would have continued and increased, the flames\nwould have appeared above the crater; or at least their lurid\nreflections would have penetrated the clouds. Now, even these\nreflections were no longer seen. If there had been an earthquake, the\nterrified people saw that at least their houses had not crumbled\nbeneath the shock. It was possible that the uproar had been caused by\nan avalanche, the fall of some mighty rock from the summit of the\nmountains.\n\nAn hour passed without other incident. A wind from the west sweeping\nover the long chain of the Blueridge, set the pines and hemlocks\nwailing on the higher slopes. There seemed no new cause for panic;\nand folk began to return to their houses. All, however, awaited\nimpatiently the return of day.\n\nThen suddenly, toward three o\'clock in the morning, another alarm!\nFlames leaped up above the rocky wall of the Great Eyrie. Reflected\nfrom the clouds, they illuminated the atmosphere for a great\ndistance. A crackling, as if of many burning trees, was heard.\n\nHad a fire spontaneously broken out? And to what cause was it due?\nLightning could not have started the conflagration; for no thunder\nhad been heard. True, there was plenty of material for fire; at this\nheight the chain of the Blueridge is well wooded. But these flames\nwere too sudden for any ordinary cause.\n\n\"An eruption! An eruption!\"\n\nThe cry resounded from all sides. An eruption! The Great Eyrie was\nthen indeed the crater of a volcano buried in the bowels of the\nmountains. And after so many years, so many ages even, had it\nreawakened? Added to the flames, was a rain of stones and ashes about\nto follow? Were the lavas going to pour down torrents of molten fire,\ndestroying everything in their passage, annihilating the towns, the\nvillages, the farms, all this beautiful world of meadows, fields and\nforests, even as far as Pleasant Garden and Morganton?\n\nThis time the panic was overwhelming; nothing could stop it. Women\ncarrying their infants, crazed with terror, rushed along the eastward\nroads. Men, deserting their homes, made hurried bundles of their most\nprecious belongings and set free their livestock, cows, sheep, pigs,\nwhich fled in all directions. What disorder resulted from this\nagglomeration, human and animal, under darkest night, amid forests,\nthreatened by the fires of the volcano, along the border of marshes\nwhose waters might be upheaved and overflow! With the earth itself\nthreatening to disappear from under the feet of the fugitives! Would\nthey be in time to save themselves, if a cascade of glowing lava came\nrolling down the slope of the mountain across their route?\n\nNevertheless, some of the chief and shrewder farm owners were not\nswept away in this mad flight, which they did their best to restrain.\nVenturing within a mile of the mountain, they saw that the glare of\nthe flames was decreasing. In truth it hardly seemed that the region\nwas immediately menaced by any further upheaval. No stones were being\nhurled into space; no torrent of lava was visible upon the slopes; no\nrumblings rose from the ground. There was no further manifestation of\nany seismic disturbance capable of overwhelming the land.\n\nAt length, the flight of the fugitives ceased at a distance where\nthey seemed secure from all danger. Then a few ventured back toward\nthe mountain. Some farms were reoccupied before the break of day.\n\nBy morning the crests of the Great Eyrie showed scarcely the least\nremnant of its cloud of smoke. The fires were certainly at an end;\nand if it were impossible to determine their cause, one might at\nleast hope that they would not break out again.\n\nIt appeared possible that the Great Eyrie had not really been the\ntheater of volcanic phenomena at all. There was no further evidence\nthat the neighborhood was at the mercy either of eruptions or of\nearthquakes.\n\nYet once more about five o\'clock, from beneath the ridge of the\nmountain, where the shadows of night still lingered, a strange noise\nswept across the air, a sort of whirring, accompanied by the beating\nof mighty wings. And had it been a clear day, perhaps the farmers\nwould have seen the passage of a mighty bird of prey, some monster of\nthe skies, which having risen from the Great Eyrie sped away toward\nthe east.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 2\n\nI REACH MORGANTON\n\n\nThe twenty-seventh of April, having left Washington the night before,\nI arrived at Raleigh, the capital of the State of North Carolina.\n\nTwo days before, the head of the federal police had called me to his\nroom. He was awaiting me with some impatience. \"John Strock,\" said\nhe, \"are you still the man who on so many occasions has proven to me\nboth his devotion and his ability?\"\n\n\"Mr. Ward,\" I answered, with a bow, \"I cannot promise success or even\nability, but as to devotion, I assure you, it is yours.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt it,\" responded the chief. \"And I will ask you instead\nthis more exact question: Are you as fond of riddles as ever? As\neager to penetrate into mysteries, as I have known you before?\"\n\n\"I am, Mr. Ward.\"\n\n\"Good, Strock; then listen.\"\n\nMr. Ward, a man of about fifty years, of great power and intellect,\nwas fully master of the important position he filled. He had several\ntimes entrusted to me difficult missions which I had accomplished\nsuccessfully, and which had won me his confidence. For several months\npast, however, he had found no occasion for my services. Therefore I\nawaited with impatience what he had to say. I did not doubt that his\nquestioning implied a serious and important task for me.\n\n\"Doubtless you know,\" said he, \"what has happened down in the\nBlueridge Mountains near Morganton.\"\n\n\"Surely, Mr. Ward, the phenomena reported from there have been\nsingular enough to arouse anyone\'s curiosity.\"\n\n\"They are singular, even remarkable, Strock. No doubt about that. But\nthere is also reason to ask, if these phenomena about the Great Eyrie\nare not a source of continued danger to the people there, if they are\nnot forerunners of some disaster as terrible as it is mysterious.\"\n\n\"It is to be feared, sir.\"\n\n\"So we must know, Strock, what is inside of that mountain. If we are\nhelpless in the face of some great force of nature, people must be\nwarned in time of the danger which threatens them.\"\n\n\"It is clearly the duty of the authorities, Mr. Ward,\" responded I,\n\"to learn what is going on within there.\"\n\n\"True, Strock; but that presents great difficulties. Everyone reports\nthat it is impossible to scale the precipices of the Great Eyrie and\nreach its interior. But has anyone ever attempted it with scientific\nappliances and under the best conditions? I doubt it, and believe a\nresolute attempt may bring success.\"\n\n\"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Ward; what we face here is merely a\nquestion of expense.\"\n\n\"We must not regard expense when we are seeking to reassure an entire\npopulation, or to preserve it from a catastrophe. There is another\nsuggestion I would make to you. Perhaps this Great Eyrie is not so\ninaccessible as is supposed. Perhaps a band of malefactors have\nsecreted themselves there, gaining access by ways known only to\nthemselves.\"\n\n\"What! You suspect that robbers--\"\n\n\"Perhaps I am wrong, Strock; and these strange sights and sounds have\nall had natural causes. Well, that is what we have to settle, and as\nquickly as possible.\"\n\n\"I have one question to ask.\"\n\n\"Go ahead, Strock.\"\n\n\"When the Great Eyrie has been visited, when we know the source of\nthese phenomena, if there really is a crater there and an eruption is\nimminent, can we avert it?\"\n\n\"No, Strock; but we can estimate the extent of the danger. If some\nvolcano in the Alleghanies threatens North Carolina with a disaster\nsimilar to that of Martinique, buried beneath the outpourings of Mont\nPelee, then these people must leave their homes.\"\n\n\"I hope, sir, there is no such widespread danger.\"\n\n\"I think not, Strock; it seems to me highly improbable that an active\nvolcano exists in the Blueridge mountain chain. Our Appalachian\nmountain system is nowhere volcanic in its origin. But all these\nevents cannot be without basis. In short, Strock, we have decided to\nmake a strict inquiry into the phenomena of the Great Eyrie, to\ngather all the testimony, to question the people of the towns and\nfarms. To do this, I have made choice of an agent in whom we have\nfull confidence; and this agent is you, Strock.\"\n\n\"Good! I am ready, Mr. Ward,\" cried I, \"and be sure that I shall\nneglect nothing to bring you full information.\"\n\n\"I know it, Strock, and I will add that I regard you as specially\nfitted for the work. You will have a splendid opportunity to\nexercise, and I hope to satisfy, your favorite passion of curiosity.\"\n\n\"As you say, sir.\"\n\n\"You will be free to act according to circumstances. As to expenses,\nif there seems reason to organize an ascension party, which will be\ncostly, you have carte blanche.\"\n\n\"I will act as seems best, Mr. Ward.\"\n\n\"Let me caution you to act with all possible discretion. The people\nin the vicinity are already over-excited. It will be well to move\nsecretly. Do not mention the suspicions I have suggested to you. And\nabove all, avoid arousing any fresh panic.\"\n\n\"It is understood.\"\n\n\"You will be accredited to the Mayor of Morganton, who will assist\nyou. Once more, be prudent, Strock, and acquaint no one with your\nmission, unless it is absolutely necessary. You have often given\nproofs of your intelligence and address; and this time I feel assured\nyou will succeed.\"\n\nI asked him only \"When shall I start?\"\n\n\"Tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow, I shall leave Washington; and the day after, I shall be at\nMorganton.\"\n\nHow little suspicion had I of what the future had in store for me!\n\nI returned immediately to my house where I made my preparations for\ndeparture; and the next evening found me in Raleigh. There I passed\nthe night, and in the course of the next afternoon arrived at the\nrailroad station of Morganton.\n\nMorganton is but a small town, built upon strata of the jurassic\nperiod, particularly rich in coal. Its mines give it some prosperity.\nIt also has numerous unpleasant mineral waters, so that the season\nthere attracts many visitors. Around Morganton is a rich farming\ncountry, with broad fields of grain. It lies in the midst of swamps,\ncovered with mosses and reeds. Evergreen forests rise high up the\nmountain slopes. All that the region lacks is the wells of natural\ngas, that invaluable natural source of power, light, and warmth, so\nabundant in most of the Alleghany valleys. Villages and farms are\nnumerous up to the very borders of the mountain forests. Thus there\nwere many thousands of people threatened, if the Great Eyrie proved\nindeed a volcano, if the convulsions of nature extended to Pleasant\nGarden and to Morganton.\n\nThe mayor of Morganton, Mr. Elias Smith, was a tall man, vigorous and\nenterprising, forty years old or more, and of a health to defy all\nthe doctors of the two Americas. He was a great hunter of bears and\npanthers, beasts which may still be found in the wild gorges and\nmighty forests of the Alleghanies.\n\nMr. Smith was himself a rich land-owner, possessing several farms in\nthe neighborhood. Even his most distant tenants received frequent\nvisits from him. Indeed, whenever his official duties did not keep\nhim in his so-called home at Morganton, he was exploring the\nsurrounding country, irresistibly drawn by the instincts of the\nhunter.\n\nI went at once to the house of Mr. Smith. He was expecting me, having\nbeen warned by telegram. He received me very frankly, without any\nformality, his pipe in his mouth, a glass of brandy on the table. A\nsecond glass was brought in by a servant, and I had to drink to my\nhost before beginning our interview.\n\n\"Mr. Ward sent you,\" said he to me in a jovial tone. \"Good; let us\ndrink to Mr. Ward\'s health.\"\n\nI clinked glasses with him, and drank in honor of the chief of police.\n\n\"And now,\" demanded Elias Smith, \"what is worrying him?\"\n\nAt this I made known to the mayor of Morganton the cause and the\npurpose of my mission in North Carolina. I assured him that my chief\nhad given me full power, and would render me every assistance,\nfinancial and otherwise, to solve the riddle and relieve the\nneighborhood of its anxiety relative to the Great Eyrie.\n\nElias Smith listened to me without uttering a word, but not without\nseveral times refilling his glass and mine. While he puffed steadily\nat his pipe, the close attention which he gave me was beyond\nquestion. I saw his cheeks flush at times, and his eyes gleam under\ntheir bushy brows. Evidently the chief magistrate of Morganton was\nuneasy about Great Eyrie, and would be as eager as I to discover the\ncause of these phenomena.\n\nWhen I had finished my communication, Elias Smith gazed at me for\nsome moments in silence. Then he said, softly, \"So at Washington they\nwish to know what the Great Eyrie hides within its circuit?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Smith.\"\n\n\"And you, also?\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"So do I, Mr. Strock.\"\n\nHe and I were as one in our curiosity.\n\n\"You will understand,\" added he, knocking the cinders from his pipe,\n\"that as a land-owner, I am much interested in these stories of the\nGreat Eyrie, and as mayor, I wish to protect my constituents.\"\n\n\"A double reason,\" I commented, \"to stimulate you to discover the\ncause of these extraordinary occurrences! Without doubt, my dear Mr.\nSmith, they have appeared to you as inexplicable and as threatening\nas to your people.\"\n\n\"Inexplicable, certainly, Mr. Strock. For on my part, I do not\nbelieve it possible that the Great Eyrie can be a volcano; the\nAlleghanies are nowhere of volcanic origins. I, myself, in our\nimmediate district, have never found any geological traces of scoria,\nor lava, or any eruptive rock whatever. I do not think, therefore,\nthat Morganton can possibly be threatened from such a source.\"\n\n\"You really think not, Mr. Smith?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"But these tremblings of the earth that have been felt in the\nneighborhood!\"\n\n\"Yes these tremblings! These tremblings!\" repeated Mr. Smith, shaking\nhis head; \"but in the first place, is it certain that there have been\ntremblings? At the moment when the flames showed most sharply, I was\non my farm of Wildon, less than a mile from the Great Eyrie. There\nwas certainly a tumult in the air, but I felt no quivering of the\nearth.\"\n\n\"But in the reports sent to Mr. Ward--\"\n\n\"Reports made under the impulse of the panic,\" interrupted the mayor\nof Morganton. \"I said nothing of any earth tremors in mine.\"\n\n\"But as to the flames which rose clearly above the crest?\"\n\n\"Yes, as to those, Mr. Strock, that is different. I saw them; saw\nthem with my own eyes, and the clouds certainly reflected them for\nmiles around. Moreover noises certainly came from the crater of the\nGreat Eyrie, hissings, as if a great boiler were letting off steam.\"\n\n\"You have reliable testimony of this?\"\n\n\"Yes, the evidence of my own ears.\"\n\n\"And in the midst of this noise, Mr. Smith, did you believe that you\nheard that most remarkable of all the phenomena, a sound like the\nflapping of great wings?\"\n\n\"I thought so, Mr. Strock; but what mighty bird could this be, which\nsped away after the flames had died down, and what wings could ever\nmake such tremendous sounds. I therefore seriously question, if this\nmust not have been a deception of my imagination. The Great Eyrie a\nrefuge for unknown monsters of the sky! Would they not have been seen\nlong since, soaring above their immense nest of stone? In short,\nthere is in all this a mystery which has not yet been solved.\"\n\n\"But we will solve it, Mr. Smith, if you will give me your aid.\"\n\n\"Surely, Mr. Strock; tomorrow we will start our campaign.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow.\" And on that word the mayor and I separated. I went to a\nhotel, and established myself for a stay which might be indefinitely\nprolonged. Then having dined, and written to Mr. Ward, I saw Mr.\nSmith again in the afternoon, and arranged to leave Morganton with\nhim at daybreak.\n\nOur first purpose was to undertake the ascent of the mountain, with\nthe aid of two experienced guides. These men had ascended Mt.\nMitchell and others of the highest peaks of the Blueridge. They had\nnever, however, attempted the Great Eyrie, knowing that its walls of\ninaccessible cliffs defended it on every side. Moreover, before the\nrecent startling occurrences the Great Eyrie had not particularly\nattracted the attention of tourists. Mr. Smith knew the two guides\npersonally as men daring, skillful and trustworthy. They would stop\nat no obstacle; and we were resolved to follow them through\neverything.\n\nMoreover Mr. Smith remarked at the last that perhaps it was no longer\nas difficult as formerly to penetrate within the Great Eyrie.\n\n\"And why?\" asked I.\n\n\"Because a huge block has recently broken away from the mountain side\nand perhaps it has left a practicable path or entrance.\"\n\n\"That would be a fortunate chance, Mr. Smith.\"\n\n\"We shall know all about it, Mr. Strock, no later than tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Till tomorrow, then.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 3\n\nTHE GREAT EYRIE\n\n\nThe next day at dawn, Elias Smith and I left Morganton by a road\nwhich, winding along the left bank of the Catawba River, led to the\nvillage of Pleasant Garden. The guides accompanied us, Harry Horn, a\nman of thirty, and James Bruck, aged twenty-five. They were both\nnatives of the region, and in constant demand among the tourists who\nclimbed the peaks of the Blueridge and Cumberland Mountains.\n\nA light wagon with two good horses was provided to carry us to the\nfoot of the range. It contained provisions for two or three days,\nbeyond which our trip surely would not be protracted. Mr. Smith had\nshown himself a generous provider both in meats and in liquors. As to\nwater the mountain springs would furnish it in abundance, increased\nby the heavy rains, frequent in that region during springtime.\n\nIt is needless to add that the Mayor of Morganton in his role of\nhunter, had brought along his gun and his dog, Nisko, who gamboled\njoyously about the wagon. Nisko, however, was to remain behind at the\nfarm at Wildon, when we attempted our ascent. He could not possibly\nfollow us to the Great Eyrie with its cliffs to scale and its\ncrevasses to cross.\n\nThe day was beautiful, the fresh air in that climate is still cool of\nan April morning. A few fleecy clouds sped rapidly overhead, driven\nby a light breeze which swept across the long plains, from the\ndistant Atlantic. The sun peeping forth at intervals, illumined all\nthe fresh young verdure of the countryside.\n\nAn entire world animated the woods through which we passed. From\nbefore our equipage fled squirrels, field-mice, parroquets of\nbrilliant colors and deafening loquacity. Opossums passed in hurried\nleaps, bearing their young in their pouches. Myriads of birds were\nscattered amid the foliage of banyans, palms, and masses of\nrhododendrons, so luxuriant that their thickets were impenetrable.\n\nWe arrived that evening at Pleasant Garden, where we were comfortably\nlocated for the night with the mayor of the town, a particular friend\nof Mr. Smith. Pleasant Garden proved little more than a village; but\nits mayor gave us a warm and generous reception, and we supped\npleasantly in his charming home, which stood beneath the shades of\nsome giant beech-trees.\n\nNaturally the conversation turned upon our attempt to explore the\ninterior of the Great Eyrie. \"You are right,\" said our host, \"until\nwe all know what is hidden within there, our people will remain\nuneasy.\"\n\n\"Has nothing new occurred,\" I asked, \"since the last appearance of\nflames above the Great Eyrie?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Mr. Strock. From Pleasant Garden we can see the entire\ncrest of the mountain. Not a suspicious noise has come down to us.\nNot a spark has risen. If a legion of devils is in hiding there, they\nmust have finished their infernal cookery, and soared away to some\nother haunt.\"\n\n\"Devils!\" cried Mr. Smith. \"Well, I hope they have not decamped\nwithout leaving some traces of their occupation, some parings of\nhoofs or horns or tails. We shall find them out.\"\n\nOn the morrow, the twenty-ninth of April, we started again at dawn.\nBy the end of this second day, we expected to reach the farm of\nWildon at the foot of the mountain. The country was much the same as\nbefore, except that our road led more steeply upward. Woods and\nmarshes alternated, though the latter grew sparser, being drained by\nthe sun as we approached the higher levels. The country was also less\npopulous. There were only a few little hamlets, almost lost beneath\nthe beech trees, a few lonely farms, abundantly watered by the many\nstreams that rushed downward toward the Catawba River.\n\nThe smaller birds and beasts grew yet more numerous. \"I am much\ntempted to take my gun,\" said Mr. Smith, \"and to go off with Nisko.\nThis will be the first time that I have passed here without trying my\nluck with the partridges and hares. The good beasts will not\nrecognize me. But not only have we plenty of provisions, but we have\na bigger chase on hand today. The chase of a mystery.\"\n\n\"And let us hope,\" added I, \"we do not come back disappointed\nhunters.\"\n\nIn the afternoon the whole chain of the Blueridge stretched before us\nat a distance of only six miles. The mountain crests were sharply\noutlined against the clear sky. Well wooded at the base, they grew\nmore bare and showed only stunted evergreens toward the summit. There\nthe scraggly trees, grotesquely twisted, gave to the rocky heights a\nbleak and bizarre appearance. Here and there the ridge rose in sharp\npeaks. On our right the Black Dome, nearly seven thousand feet high,\nreared its gigantic head, sparkling at times above the clouds.\n\n\"Have you ever climbed that dome, Mr. Smith?\" I asked.\n\n\"No,\" answered he, \"but I am told that it is a very difficult ascent.\nA few mountaineers have climbed it; but they report that it has no\noutlook commanding the crater of the Great Eyrie.\"\n\n\"That is so,\" said the guide, Harry Horn. \"I have tried it myself.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" suggested I, \"the weather was unfavorable.\"\n\n\"On the contrary, Mr. Strock, it was unusually clear. But the wall of\nthe Great Eyrie on that side rose so high, it completely hid the\ninterior.\"\n\n\"Forward,\" cried Mr. Smith. \"I shall not be sorry to set foot where\nno person has ever stepped, or even looked, before.\"\n\nCertainly on this day the Great Eyrie looked tranquil enough. As we\ngazed upon it, there rose from its heights neither smoke nor flame.\n\nToward five o\'clock our expedition halted at the Wildon farm, where\nthe tenants warmly welcomed their landlord. The farmer assured us\nthat nothing notable had happened about the Great Eyrie for some\ntime. We supped at a common table with all the people of the farm;\nand our sleep that night was sound and wholly untroubled by\npremonitions of the future.\n\nOn the morrow, before break of day, we set out for the ascent of the\nmountain. The height of the Great Eyrie scarce exceeds five thousand\nfeet. A modest altitude, often surpassed in this section of the\nAlleghanies. As we were already more than three thousand feet above\nsea level, the fatigue of the ascent could not be great. A few hours\nshould suffice to bring us to the crest of the crater. Of course,\ndifficulties might present themselves, precipices to scale, clefts\nand breaks in the ridge might necessitate painful and even dangerous\ndetours. This was the unknown, the spur to our attempt. As I said,\nour guides knew no more than we upon this point. What made me\nanxious, was, of course, the common report that the Great Eyrie was\nwholly inaccessible. But this remained unproven. And then there was\nthe new chance that a fallen block had left a breach in the rocky\nwall.\n\n\"At last,\" said Mr. Smith to me, after lighting the first pipe of the\ntwenty or more which he smoked each day, \"we are well started. As to\nwhether the ascent will take more or less time--\"\n\n\"In any case, Mr. Smith,\" interrupted I, \"you and I are fully\nresolved to pursue our quest to the end.\"\n\n\"Fully resolved, Mr. Strock.\"\n\n\"My chief has charged me to snatch the secret from this demon of the\nGreat Eyrie.\"\n\n\"We will snatch it from him, willing or unwilling,\" vowed Mr. Smith,\ncalling Heaven to witness. \"Even if we have to search the very bowels\nof the mountain.\"\n\n\"As it may happen, then,\" said I, \"that our excursion will be\nprolonged beyond today, it will be well to look to our provisions.\"\n\n\"Be easy, Mr. Strock; our guides have food for two days in their\nknapsacks, besides what we carry ourselves. Moreover, though I left\nmy brave Nisko at the farm, I have my gun. Game will be plentiful in\nthe woods and gorges of the lower part of the mountain, and perhaps\nat the top we shall find a fire to cook it, already lighted.\"\n\n\"Already lighted, Mr. Smith?\"\n\n\"And why not, Mr. Strock? These flames! These superb flames, which\nhave so terrified our country folk! Is their fire absolutely cold, is\nno spark to be found beneath their ashes? And then, if this is truly\na crater, is the volcano so wholly extinct that we cannot find there\na single ember? Bah! This would be but a poor volcano if it hasn\'t\nenough fire even to cook an egg or roast a potato. Come, I repeat, we\nshall see! We shall see!\"\n\nAt that point of the investigation I had, I confess, no opinion\nformed. I had my orders to examine the Great Eyrie. If it proved\nharmless, I would announce it, and people would be reassured. But at\nheart, I must admit, I had the very natural desire of a man possessed\nby the demon of curiosity. I should be glad, both for my own sake,\nand for the renown which would attach to my mission if the Great\nEyrie proved the center of the most remarkable phenomena--of which I\nwould discover the cause.\n\nOur ascent began in this order. The two guides went in front to seek\nout the most practicable paths. Elias Smith and I followed more\nleisurely. We mounted by a narrow and not very steep gorge amid rocks\nand trees. A tiny stream trickled downward under our feet. During the\nrainy season or after a heavy shower, the water doubtless bounded\nfrom rock to rock in tumultuous cascades. But it evidently was fed\nonly by the rain, for now we could scarcely trace its course. It\ncould not be the outlet of any lake within the Great Eyrie.\n\nAfter an hour of climbing, the slope became so steep that we had to\nturn, now to the right, now to the left; and our progress was much\ndelayed. Soon the gorge became wholly impracticable; its cliff-like\nsides offered no sufficient foothold. We had to cling by branches, to\ncrawl upon our knees. At this rate the top would not be reached\nbefore sundown.\n\n\"Faith!\" cried Mr. Smith, stopping for breath, \"I realize why the\nclimbers of the Great Eyrie have been few, so few, that it has never\nbeen ascended within my knowledge.\"\n\n\"The fact is,\" I responded, \"that it would be much toil for very\nlittle profit. And if we had not special reasons to persist in our\nattempt.\"\n\n\"You never said a truer word,\" declared Harry Horn. \"My comrade and I\nhave scaled the Black Dome several times, but we never met such\nobstacles as these.\"\n\n\"The difficulties seem almost impassable,\" added James Bruck.\n\nThe question now was to determine to which side we should turn for a\nnew route; to right, as to left, arose impenetrable masses of trees\nand bushes. In truth even the scaling of cliffs would have been more\neasy. Perhaps if we could get above this wooded slope we could\nadvance with surer foot. Now, we could only go ahead blindly, and\ntrust to the instincts of our two guides. James Bruck was especially\nuseful. I believe that that gallant lad would have equaled a monkey\nin lightness and a wild goat in agility. Unfortunately, neither Elias\nSmith nor I was able to climb where he could.\n\nHowever, when it is a matter of real need with me, I trust I shall\nnever be backward, being resolute by nature and well-trained in bodily\nexercise. Where James Bruck went, I was determined to go, also;\nthough it might cost me some uncomfortable falls. But it was not the\nsame with the first magistrate of Morganton, less young, less\nvigorous, larger, stouter, and less persistent than we others.\nPlainly he made every effort, not to retard our progress, but he\npanted like a seal, and soon I insisted on his stopping to rest.\n\nIn short, it was evident that the ascent of the Great Eyrie would\nrequire far more time than we had estimated. We had expected to reach\nthe foot of the rocky wall before eleven o\'clock, but we now saw that\nmid-day would still find us several hundred feet below it.\n\nToward ten o\'clock, after repeated attempts to discover some more\npracticable route, after numberless turnings and returnings, one of\nthe guides gave the signal to halt. We found ourselves at last on the\nupper border of the heavy wood. The trees, more thinly spaced,\npermitted us a glimpse upward to the base of the rocky wall which\nconstituted the true Great Eyrie.\n\n\"Whew!\" exclaimed Mr. Smith, leaning against a mighty pine tree, \"a\nlittle respite, a little repose, and even a little repast would not\ngo badly.\"\n\n\"We will rest an hour,\" said I.\n\n\"Yes; after working our lungs and our legs, we will make our stomachs\nwork.\"\n\nWe were all agreed on this point. A rest would certainty freshen us.\nOur only cause for inquietude was now the appearance of the\nprecipitous slope above us. We looked up toward one of those bare\nstrips called in that region, slides. Amid this loose earth, these\nyielding stones, and these abrupt rocks there was no roadway.\n\nHarry Horn said to his comrade, \"It will not be easy.\"\n\n\"Perhaps impossible,\" responded Bruck.\n\nTheir comments caused me secret uneasiness. If I returned without\neven having scaled the mountain, my mission would be a complete\nfailure, without speaking of the torture to my curiosity. And when I\nstood again before Mr. Ward, shamed and confused, I should cut but a\nsorry figure.\n\nWe opened our knapsacks and lunched moderately on bread and cold\nmeat. Our repast finished, in less than half an hour, Mr. Smith\nsprang up eager to push forward once more. James Bruck took the lead;\nand we had only to follow him as best we could.\n\nWe advanced slowly. Our guides did not attempt to conceal their doubt\nand hesitation. Soon Horn left us and went far ahead to spy out which\nroad promised most chance of success.\n\nTwenty minutes later he returned and led us onward toward the\nnorthwest. It was on this side that the Black Dome rose at a distance\nof three or four miles. Our path was still difficult and painful,\namid the sliding stones, held in place only occasionally by wiry\nbushes. At length after a weary struggle, we gained some two\nhundred feet further upward and found ourselves facing a great gash,\nwhich, broke the earth at this spot. Here and there were scattered\nroots recently uptorn, branches broken off, huge stones reduced to\npowder, as if an avalanche had rushed down this flank of the mountain.\n\n\"That must be the path taken by the huge block which broke away\nfrom the Great Eyrie,\" commented James Bruck.\n\n\"No doubt,\" answered Mr. Smith, \"and I think we had better follow the\nroad that it has made for us.\"\n\nIt was indeed this gash that Harry Horn had selected for our ascent.\nOur feet found lodgment in the firmer earth which had resisted the\npassage of the monster rock. Our task thus became much easier, and\nour progress was in a straight line upward, so that toward half past\neleven we reached the upper border of the \"slide.\"\n\nBefore us, less than a hundred feet away, but towering a hundred feet\nstraight upwards in the air rose the rocky wall which formed the\nfinal crest, the last defence of the Great Eyrie.\n\nFrom this side, the summit of the wall showed capriciously irregular,\nrising in rude towers and jagged needles. At one point the outline\nappeared to be an enormous eagle silhouetted against the sky, just\nready to take flight. Upon this side, at least, the precipice was\ninsurmountable.\n\n\"Rest a minute,\" said Mr. Smith, \"and we will see if it is possible\nto make our way around the base of this cliff.\"\n\n\"At any rate,\" said Harry Horn, \"the great block must have fallen\nfrom this part of the cliff; and it has left no breach for entering.\"\n\nThey were both right; we must seek entrance elsewhere. After a rest\nof ten minutes, we clambered up close to the foot of the wall, and\nbegan to make a circuit of its base.\n\nAssuredly the Great Eyrie now took on to my eyes an aspect absolutely\nfantastic. Its heights seemed peopled by dragons and huge monsters.\nIf chimeras, griffins, and all the creations of mythology had\nappeared to guard it, I should have been scarcely surprised.\n\nWith great difficulty and not without danger we continued our tour of\nthis circumvallation, where it seemed that nature had worked as man\ndoes, with careful regularity. Nowhere was there any break in the\nfortification; nowhere a fault in the strata by which one might\nclamber up. Always this mighty wall, a hundred feet in height!\n\nAfter an hour and a half of this laborious circuit, we regained our\nstarting-place. I could not conceal my disappointment, and Mr. Smith\nwas not less chagrined than I.\n\n\"A thousand devils!\" cried he, \"we know no better than before what is\ninside this confounded Great Eyrie, nor even if it is a crater.\"\n\n\"Volcano, or not,\" said I, \"there are no suspicious noises now;\nneither smoke nor flame rises above it; nothing whatever threatens an\neruption.\"\n\nThis was true. A profound silence reigned around us; and a perfectly\nclear sky shone overhead. We tasted the perfect calm of great\naltitudes.\n\nIt was worth noting that the circumference of the huge wall was about\ntwelve or fifteen hundred feet. As to the space enclosed within, we\ncould scarce reckon that without knowing the thickness of the\nencompassing wall. The surroundings were absolutely deserted.\nProbably not a living creature ever mounted to this height, except\nthe few birds of prey which soared high above us.\n\nOur watches showed three o\'clock, and Mr. Smith cried in disgust,\n\"What is the use of stopping here all day! We shall learn nothing\nmore. We must make a start, Mr. Strock, if we want to get back to\nPleasant Garden to-night.\"\n\nI made no answer, and did not move from where I was seated; so he\ncalled again, \"Come, Mr. Strock; you don\'t answer.\"\n\nIn truth, it cut me deeply to abandon our effort, to descend the\nslope without having achieved my mission. I felt an imperious need of\npersisting; my curiosity had redoubled. But what could I do? Could I\ntear open this unyielding earth? Overleap the mighty cliff? Throwing\none last defiant glare at the Great Eyrie, I followed my companions.\n\nThe return was effected without great difficulty. We had only to\nslide down where we had so laboriously scrambled up. Before five\no\'clock we descended the last slopes of the mountain, and the farmer\nof Wildon welcomed us to a much needed meal.\n\n\"Then you didn\'t get inside?\" said he.\n\n\"No,\" responded Mr. Smith, \"and I believe that the inside exists only\nin the imagination of our country folk.\"\n\nAt half past eight our carriage drew up before the house of the Mayor\nof Pleasant Garden, where we passed the night. While I strove vainly\nto sleep, I asked myself if I should not stop there in the village\nand organize a new ascent. But what better chance had it of\nsucceeding than the first? The wisest course was, doubtless, to\nreturn to Washington and consult Mr. Ward.\n\nSo, the next day, having rewarded our two guides, I took leave of Mr.\nSmith at Morganton, and that same evening left by train for\nWashington.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 4\n\nA MEETING OF THE AUTOMOBILE CLUB\n\n\nWas the mystery of the Great Eyrie to be solved some day by chances\nbeyond our imagining? That was known only to the future. And was the\nsolution a matter of the first importance? That was beyond doubt,\nsince the safety of the people of western Carolina perhaps depended\nupon it.\n\nYet a fortnight after my return to Washington, public attention was\nwholly distracted from this problem by another very different in\nnature, but equally astonishing.\n\nToward the middle of that month of May the newspapers of Pennsylvania\ninformed their readers of some strange occurrences in different parts\nof the state. On the roads which radiated from Philadelphia, the\nchief city, there circulated an extraordinary vehicle, of which no\none could describe the form, or the nature, or even the size, so\nrapidly did it rush past. It was an automobile; all were agreed on\nthat. But as to what motor drove it, only imagination could say; and\nwhen the popular imagination is aroused, what limit is there to its\nhypotheses?\n\nAt that period the most improved automobiles, whether driven by\nsteam, gasoline, or electricity, could not accomplish much more than\nsixty miles an hour, a speed that the railroads, with their most\nrapid expresses, scarce exceed on the best lines of America and\nEurope. Now, this new automobile which was astonishing the world,\ntraveled at more than double this speed.\n\nIt is needless to add that such a rate constituted an extreme danger\non the highroads, as much so for vehicles, as for pedestrians. This\nrushing mass, coming like a thunder-bolt, preceded by a formidable\nrumbling, caused a whirlwind, which tore the branches from the trees\nalong the road, terrified the animals browsing in adjoining fields,\nand scattered and killed the birds, which could not resist the\nsuction of the tremendous air currents engendered by its passage.\n\nAnd, a bizarre detail to which the newspapers drew particular\nattention, the surface of the roads was scarcely even scratched by\nthe wheels of the apparition, which left behind it no such ruts as\nare usually made by heavy vehicles. At most there was a light touch,\na mere brushing of the dust. It was only the tremendous speed which\nraised behind the vehicle such whirlwinds of dust.\n\n\"It is probable,\" commented the New Fork Herald, \"that the extreme\nrapidity of motion destroys the weight.\"\n\nNaturally there were protests from all sides. It was impossible to\npermit the mad speed of this apparition which threatened to overthrow\nand destroy everything in its passage, equipages and people. But how\ncould it be stopped? No one knew to whom the vehicle belonged, nor\nwhence it came, nor whither it went. It was seen but for an instant\nas it darted forward like a bullet in its dizzy flight. How could one\nseize a cannon-ball in the air, as it leaped from the mouth of the\ngun?\n\nI repeat, there was no evidence as to the character of the propelling\nengine. It left behind it no smoke, no steam, no odor of gasoline, or\nany other oil. It seemed probable, therefore, that the vehicle ran by\nelectricity, and that its accumulators were of an unknown model,\nusing some unknown fluid.\n\nThe public imagination, highly excited, readily accepted every sort\nof rumor about this mysterious automobile. It was said to be a\nsupernatural car. It was driven by a specter, by one of the\nchauffeurs of hell, a goblin from another world, a monster escaped\nfrom some mythological menagerie, in short, the devil in person, who\ncould defy all human intervention, having at his command invisible\nand infinite satanic powers.\n\nBut even Satan himself had no right to run at such speed over the\nroads of the United States without a special permit, without a number\non his car, and without a regular license. And it was certain that\nnot a single municipality had given him permission to go two hundred\nmiles an hour. Public security demanded that some means be found to\nunmask the secret of this terrible chauffeur.\n\nMoreover, it was not only Pennsylvania that served as the theater of\nhis sportive eccentricities. The police reported his appearance in\nother states; in Kentucky near Frankfort; in Ohio near Columbus; in\nTennessee near Nashville; in Missouri near Jefferson; and finally in\nIllinois in the neighborhood of Chicago.\n\nThe alarm having been given, it became the duty of the authorities to\ntake steps against this public danger. To arrest or even to halt an\napparition moving at such speed was scarcely practicable. A better\nway would be to erect across the roads solid gateways with which the\nflying machine must come in contact sooner or later, and be smashed\ninto a thousand pieces.\n\n\"Nonsense!\" declared the incredulous. \"This madman would know well\nhow to circle around such obstructions.\"\n\n\"And if necessary,\" added others, \"the machine would leap over the\nbarriers.\"\n\n\"And if he is indeed the devil, he has, as a former angel, presumably\npreserved his wings, and so he will take to flight.\"\n\nBut this last was but the suggestion of foolish old gossips who did\nnot stop to study the matter. For if the King of Hades possessed a\npair of wings, why did he obstinately persist in running around on\nthe earth at the risk of crushing his own subjects, when he might\nmore easily have hurled himself through space as free as a bird.\n\nSuch was the situation when, in the last week of May, a fresh event\noccurred, which seemed to show that the United States was indeed\nhelpless in the hands of some unapproachable monster. And after the\nNew World, would not the Old in its turn, be desecrated by the mad\ncareer of this remarkable automobilist?\n\nThe following occurrence was reported in all the newspapers of the\nUnion, and with what comments and outcries it is easy to imagine.\n\nA race was to be held by the automobile Club of Wisconsin, over the\nroads of that state of which Madison is the capital. The route laid\nout formed an excellent track, about two hundred miles in length,\nstarting from Prairie-du-chien on the western frontier, passing by\nMadison and ending a little above Milwaukee on the borders of Lake\nMichigan. Except for the Japanese road between Nikko and Namode,\nbordered by giant cypresses, there is no better track in the world\nthan this of Wisconsin. It runs straight and level as an arrow for\nsometimes fifty miles at a stretch. Many and noted were the machines\nentered for this great race. Every kind of motor vehicle was\npermitted to compete, even motorcycles, as well as automobiles. The\nmachines were of all makes and nationalities. The sum of the\ndifferent prizes reached fifty thousand dollars, so that the race was\nsure to be desperately contested. New records were expected to be\nmade.\n\nCalculating on the maximum speed hitherto attained, of perhaps eighty\nmiles an hour, this international contest covering two hundred miles\nwould last about three hours. And, to avoid all danger, the state\nauthorities of Wisconsin had forbidden all other traffic between\nPrairie-du-chien and Milwaukee during three hours on the morning of\nthe thirtieth of May. Thus, if there were any accidents, those who\nsuffered would be themselves to blame.\n\nThere was an enormous crowd; and it was not composed only of the\npeople of Wisconsin. Many thousands gathered from the neighboring\nstates of Illinois, Michigan, Iowa, Indiana, and even from New York.\nAmong the sportsmen assembled were many foreigners, English, French,\nGermans and Austrians, each nationality, of course, supporting the\nchauffeurs of its land. Moreover, as this was the United States, the\ncountry of the greatest gamblers of the world, bets were made of\nevery sort and of enormous amounts.\n\nThe start was to be made at eight o\'clock in the morning; and to\navoid crowding and the accidents which must result from it, the\nautomobiles were to follow each other at two minute intervals, along\nthe roads whose borders were black with spectators.\n\nThe first ten racers, numbered by lot, were dispatched between eight\no\'clock and twenty minutes past. Unless there was some disastrous\naccident, some of these machines would surely arrive at the goal by\neleven o\'clock. The others followed in order.\n\nAn hour and a half had passed. There remained but a single contestant\nat Prairie-du-chien. Word was sent back and forth by telephone every\nfive minutes as to the order of the racers. Midway between Madison\nand Milwaukee, the lead was held by a machine of Renault brothers,\nfour cylindered, of twenty horsepower, and with Michelin tires. It\nwas closely followed by a Harvard-Watson car and by a Dion-Bouton.\nSome accidents had already occurred, other machines were hopelessly\nbehind. Not more than a dozen would contest the finish. Several\nchauffeurs had been injured, but not seriously. And even had they\nbeen killed, the death of men is but a detail, not considered of\ngreat importance in that astonishing country of America.\n\nNaturally the excitement became more intense as one approached the\nfinishing line near Milwaukee. There were assembled the most curious,\nthe most interested; and there the passions of the moment were\nunchained. By ten o\'clock it was evident, that the first prize,\ntwenty thousand dollars, lay between five machines, two American, two\nFrench, and one English. Imagine, therefore, the fury with which bets\nwere being made under the influence of national pride. The regular\nbook makers could scarcely meet the demands of those who wished to\nwager. Offers and amounts were hurled from lip to lip with feverish\nrapidity. \"One to three on the Harvard-Watson!\"\n\n\"One to two on the Dion-Bouton!\"\n\n\"Even money on the Renault!\"\n\nThese cries rang along the line of spectators at each new\nannouncement from the telephones.\n\nSuddenly at half-past nine by the town clock of Prairie-du-chien, two\nmiles beyond that town was heard a tremendous noise and rumbling\nwhich proceeded from the midst of a flying cloud of dust accompanied\nby shrieks like those of a naval siren.\n\nScarcely had the crowds time to draw to one side, to escape a\ndestruction which would have included hundreds of victims. The cloud\nswept by like a hurricane. No one could distinguish what it was that\npassed with such speed. There was no exaggeration in saying that its\nrate was at least one hundred and fifty miles an hour.\n\nThe apparition passed and disappeared in an instant, leaving behind\nit a long train of white dust, as an express locomotive leaves behind\na train of smoke. Evidently it was an automobile with a most\nextraordinary motor. If it maintained this arrow-like speed, it would\nreach the contestants in the fore-front of the race; it would pass\nthem with this speed double their own; it would arrive first at the\ngoal.\n\nAnd then from all parts arose an uproar, as soon as the spectators\nhad nothing more to fear.\n\n\"It is that infernal machine.\"\n\n\"Yes; the one the police cannot stop.\"\n\n\"But it has not been heard of for a fortnight.\"\n\n\"It was supposed to be done for, destroyed, gone forever.\"\n\n\"It is a devil\'s car, driven by hellfire, and with Satan driving!\"\n\nIn truth, if he were not the devil, who could this mysterious\nchauffeur be, driving with this unbelievable velocity, his no less\nmysterious machine? At least it was beyond doubt that this was the\nsame machine which had already attracted so much attention. If the\npolice believed that they had frightened it away, that it was never\nto be, heard of more, well, the police were mistaken which happens in\nAmerica as elsewhere.\n\nThe first stunned moment of surprise having passed,\nmany people rushed to the telephones to warn those further\nalong the route of the danger which menaced, not only the\npeople, but also the automobiles scattered along the road.\n\nWhen this terrible madman arrived like an avalanche they would be\nsmashed to pieces, ground into powder, annihilated!\n\nAnd from the collision might not the destroyer himself emerge safe\nand sound? He must be so adroit, this chauffeur of chauffeurs, he\nmust handle his machine with such perfection of eye and hand, that he\nknew, no doubt, how to escape from every situation. Fortunately the\nWisconsin authorities had taken such precautions that the road would\nbe clear except for contesting automobiles. But what right had this\nmachine among them!\n\nAnd what said the racers themselves, who, warned by telephone, had to\nsheer aside from the road in their struggle for the grand prize? By\ntheir estimate, this amazing vehicle was going at least one hundred\nand thirty miles an hour. Fast as was their speed, it shot by them at\nsuch a rate that they could hardly make out even the shape of the\nmachine, a sort of lengthened spindle, probably not over thirty feet\nlong. Its wheels spun with such velocity that they could scarce be\nseen. For the rest, the machine left behind it neither smoke nor\nscent.\n\nAs for the driver, hidden in the interior of his machine, he had been\nquite invisible. He remained as unknown as when he had first appeared\non the various roads throughout the country.\n\nMilwaukee was promptly warned of the coming of this interloper. Fancy\nthe excitement the news caused! The immediate purpose agreed upon was\nto stop this projectile, to erect across its route an obstacle\nagainst which it would smash into a thousand pieces. But was there\ntime? Would not the machine appear at any moment? And what need was\nthere, since the track ended on the edge of Lake Michigan, and so the\nvehicle would be forced to stop there anyway, unless its supernatural\ndriver could ride the water as well as the land.\n\nHere, also, as all along the route, the most extravagant suggestions\nwere offered. Even those who would not admit that the mysterious\nchauffeur must be Satan in person allowed that he might be some\nmonster escaped from the fantastic visions of the Apocalypse.\n\nAnd now there were no longer minutes to wait. Any second might bring\nthe expected apparition.\n\nIt was not yet eleven o\'clock when a rumbling was heard far down the\ntrack, and the dust rose in violent whirlwinds. Harsh whistlings\nshrieked through the air warning all to give passage to the monster.\n\nIt did not slacken speed at the finish. Lake Michigan was not half a\nmile beyond, and the machine must certainly be hurled into the water!\nCould it be that the mechanician was no longer master of his\nmechanism?\n\nThere could be little doubt of it. Like a shooting star, the vehicle\nflashed through Milwaukee. When it had passed the city, would it\nplunge itself to destruction in the waters of Lake Michigan?\n\nAt any rate when it disappeared at a slight bend in the road no trace\nwas to be found of its passage.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 5\n\nALONG THE SHORES OF NEW ENGLAND\n\n\nAt the time when the newspapers were filled with these reports, I was\nagain in Washington. On my return I had presented myself at my\nchief\'s office, but had been unable to see him. Family affairs had\nsuddenly called him away, to be absent some weeks. Mr. Ward, however,\nundoubtedly knew of the failure of my mission. The newspapers,\nespecially those of North Carolina, had given full details of our\nascent of the Great Eyrie.\n\nNaturally, I was much annoyed by this delay which further fretted my\nrestless curiosity. I could turn to no other plans for the future.\nCould I give up the hope of learning the secret of the Great Eyrie?\nNo! I would return to the attack a dozen times if necessary, and\ndespite every failure.\n\nSurely, the winning of access within those walls was not a task\nbeyond human power. A scaffolding might be raised to the summit of\nthe cliff; or a tunnel might be pierced through its depth. Our\nengineers met problems more difficult every day. But in this case it\nwas necessary to consider the expense, which might easily grow out of\nproportion to the advantages to be gained. A tunnel would cost many\nthousand dollars, and what good would it accomplish beyond satisfying\nthe public curiosity and my own?\n\nMy personal resources were wholly insufficient for the achievement.\nMr. Ward, who held the government\'s funds, was away. I even thought\nof trying to interest some millionaire. Oh, if I could but have\npromised one of them some gold or silver mines within the mountain!\nBut such an hypothesis was not admissible. The chain of the\nAppalachians is not situated in a gold bearing region like that of\nthe Pacific mountains, the Transvaal, or Australia.\n\nIt was not until the fifteenth of June that Mr. Ward returned to\nduty. Despite my lack of success he received me warmly. \"Here is our\npoor Strock!\" cried he, at my entrance. \"Our poor Strock, who has\nfailed!\"\n\n\"No more, Mr. Ward, than if you had charged me to investigate the\nsurface of the moon,\" answered I. \"We found ourselves face to face\nwith purely natural obstacles insurmountable with the forces then at\nour command.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt that, Strock, I do not doubt that in the least.\nNevertheless, the fact remains that you have discovered nothing of\nwhat is going on within the Great Eyrie.\"\n\n\"Nothing, Mr. Ward.\"\n\n\"You saw no sign of fire?\"\n\n\"None.\"\n\n\"And you heard no suspicious noises whatever?\"\n\n\"None.\"\n\n\"Then it is still uncertain if there is really a volcano there?\"\n\n\"Still uncertain, Mr. Ward. But if it is there, we have good reason\nto believe that it has sunk into a profound sleep.\"\n\n\"Still,\" returned Mr. Ward, \"there is nothing to show that it will\nnot wake up again any day, Strock. It is not enough that a volcano\nshould sleep, it must be absolutely extinguished unless indeed all\nthese threatening rumors have been born solely in the Carolinian\nimagination.\"\n\n\"That is not possible, sir,\" I said. \"Both Mr. Smith, the mayor of\nMorganton and his friend the mayor of Pleasant Garden, are reliable\nmen. And they speak from their own knowledge in this matter. Flames\nhave certainly risen above the Great Eyrie. Strange noises have\nissued from it. There can be no doubt whatever of the reality of\nthese phenomena.\"\n\n\"Granted,\" declared Mr. Ward. \"I admit that the evidence is\nunassailable. So the deduction to be drawn is that the Great Eyrie\nhas not yet given up its secret.\"\n\n\"If we are determined to know it, Mr. Ward, the solution is only a\nsolution of expense. Pickaxes and dynamite would soon conquer those\nwalls.\"\n\n\"No doubt,\" responded the chief, \"but such an undertaking hardly\nseems justified, since the mountain is now quiet. We will wait awhile\nand perhaps nature herself will disclose her mystery.\"\n\n\"Mr. Ward, believe me that I regret deeply that I have been unable to\nsolve the problem you entrusted to me,\" I said.\n\n\"Nonsense! Do not upset yourself, Strock. Take your defeat\nphilosophically. We cannot always be successful, even in the police.\nHow many criminals escape us! I believe we should never capture one\nof them, if they were a little more intelligent and less imprudent,\nand if they did not compromise themselves so stupidly. Nothing, it\nseems to me, would be easier than to plan a crime, a theft or an\nassassination, and to execute it without arousing any suspicions, or\nleaving any traces to be followed. You understand, Strock, I do not\nwant to give our criminals lessons; I much prefer to have them remain\nas they are. Nevertheless there are many whom the police will never\nbe able to track down.\"\n\nOn this matter I shared absolutely the opinion of my chief. It is\namong rascals that one finds the most fools. For this very reason I\nhad been much surprised that none of the authorities had been able to\nthrow any light upon the recent performances of the \"demon\nautomobile.\" And when Mr. Ward brought up this subject, I did not\nconceal from him my astonishment.\n\nHe pointed out that the vehicle was practically unpursuable; that in\nits earlier appearances, it had apparently vanished from all roads\neven before a telephone message could be sent ahead. Active and\nnumerous police agents had been spread throughout the country, but no\none of them had encountered the delinquent. He did not move\ncontinuously from place to place, even at his amazing speed, but\nseemed to appear only for a moment and then to vanish into thin air.\nTrue, he had at length remained visible along the entire route from\nPrairie-du-Chien to Milwaukee, and he had covered in less than an\nhour and a half this track of two hundred miles.\n\nBut since then, there had been no news whatever of the machine.\nArrived at the end of the route, driven onward by its own impetus,\nunable to stop, had it indeed been engulfed within the waters of Lake\nMichigan? Must we conclude that the machine and its driver had both\nperished, that there was no longer any danger to be feared from\neither? The great majority of the public refused to accept this\nconclusion. They fully expected the machine to reappear.\n\nMr. Ward frankly admitted that the whole matter seemed to him most\nextraordinary; and I shared his view. Assuredly if this infernal\nchauffeur did not return, his apparition would have to be placed\namong those superhuman mysteries which it is not given to man to\nunderstand.\n\nWe had fully discussed this affair, the chief and I; and I thought\nthat our interview was at an end, when, after pacing the room for a\nfew moments, he said abruptly, \"Yes, what happened there at Milwaukee\nwas very strange. But here is something no less so!\"\n\nWith this he handed me a report which he had received from Boston, on\na subject of which the evening papers had just begun to apprise their\nreaders. While I read it, Mr. Ward was summoned from the room. I\nseated myself by the window and studied with extreme attention the\nmatter of the report.\n\nFor some days the waters along the coast of Maine, Connecticut, and\nMassachusetts had been the scene of an appearance which no one could\nexactly describe. A moving body would appear amid the waters, some\ntwo or three miles off shore, and go through rapid evolutions. It\nwould flash for a while back and forth among the waves and then dart\nout of sight.\n\nThe body moved with such lightning speed that the best telescopes\ncould hardly follow it. Its length did not seem to exceed thirty\nfeet. Its cigar-shaped form and greenish color, made it difficult to\ndistinguish against the background of the ocean. It had been most\nfrequently observed along the coast between Cape Cod and Nova Scotia.\nFrom Providence, from Boston, from Portsmouth, and from Portland\nmotor boats and steam launches had repeatedly attempted to approach\nthis moving body and even to give it chase. They could not get\nanywhere near it. Pursuit seemed useless. It darted like an arrow\nbeyond the range of view.\n\nNaturally, widely differing opinions were held as to the nature of\nthis object. But no hypothesis rested on any secure basis. Seamen\nwere as much at a loss as others. At first sailors thought it must be\nsome great fish, like a whale. But it is well known that all these\nanimals come to the surface with a certain regularity to breathe, and\nspout up columns of mingled air and water. Now, this strange animal,\nif it was an animal, had never \"blown\" as the whalers say; nor, had\nit ever made any noises of breathing. Yet if it were not one of these\nhuge marine mammals, how was this unknown monster to be classed? Did\nit belong among the legendary dwellers in the deep, the krakens, the\noctopuses, the leviathans, the famous sea-serpents?\n\nAt any rate, since this monster, whatever it was, had appeared along\nthe New England shores, the little fishing-smacks and pleasure boats\ndared not venture forth. Wherever it appeared the boats fled to the\nnearest harbor, as was but prudent. If the animal was of a ferocious\ncharacter, none cared to await its attack.\n\nAs to the large ships and coast steamers, they had nothing to fear\nfrom any monster, whale or otherwise. Several of them had seen this\ncreature at a distance of some miles. But when they attempted to\napproach, it fled rapidly away. One day, even, a fast United States\ngun boat went out from Boston, if not to pursue the monster, at least\nto send after it a few cannon shot. Almost instantly the animal\ndisappeared, and the attempt was vain. As yet, however, the monster\nhad shown no intention of attacking either boats or people.\n\nAt this moment Mr. Ward returned and I interrupted my reading to say,\n\"There seems as yet no reason to complain of this sea-serpent. It\nflees before big ships. It does not pursue little ones. Feeling and\nintelligence are not very strong in fishes.\"\n\n\"Yet their emotions exist, Strock, and if strongly aroused--\"\n\n\"But, Mr. Ward, the beast seems not at all dangerous. One of two\nthings will happen. Either it will presently quit these coasts, or\nfinally it will be captured and we shall be able to study it at our\nleisure here in the museum of Washington.\"\n\n\"And if it is not a marine animal?\" asked Mr. Ward.\n\n\"What else can it be?\" I protested in surprise.\n\n\"Finish your reading,\" said Mr. Ward.\n\nI did so; and found that in the second part of the report, my chief\nhad underlined some passages in red pencil.\n\nFor some time no one had doubted that this was an animal; and that,\nif it were vigorously pursued, it would at last be driven from our\nshores. But a change of opinion had come about. People began to ask\nif, instead of a fish, this were not some new and remarkable kind of\nboat.\n\nCertainly in that case its engine must be one of amazing power.\nPerhaps the inventor before selling the secret of his invention,\nsought to attract public attention and to astound the maritime world.\nSuch surety in the movements of his boat, grace in its every\nevolution, such ease in defying pursuit by its arrow-like speed,\nsurely, these were enough to arouse world-wide curiosity!\n\nAt that time great progress had been made in the manufacture of\nmarine engines. Huge transatlantic steamers completed the ocean\npassage in five days. And the engineers had not yet spoken their last\nword. Neither were the navies of the world behind. The cruisers, the\ntorpedo boats, the torpedo-destroyers, could match the swiftest\nsteamers of the Atlantic and Pacific, or of the Indian trade.\n\nIf, however, this were a boat of some new design, there had as yet\nbeen no opportunity to observe its form. As to the engines which\ndrove it, they must be of a power far beyond the fastest known. By\nwhat force they worked, was equally a problem. Since the boat had no\nsails, it was not driven by the wind; and since it had no\nsmoke-stack, it was not driven by steam.\n\nAt this point in the report, I again paused in my reading and\nconsidered the comment I wished to make.\n\n\"What are you puzzling over, Strock?\" demanded my chief.\n\n\"It is this, Mr. Ward; the motive power of this so-called boat must\nbe as tremendous and as unknown as that of the remarkable automobile\nwhich has so amazed us all.\"\n\n\"So that is your idea, is it, Strock?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Ward.\"\n\nThere was but one conclusion to be drawn. If the mysterious chauffeur\nhad disappeared, if he had perished with his machine in Lake\nMichigan, it was equally important now to win the secret of this no\nless mysterious navigator. And it must be won before he in his turn\nplunged into the abyss of the ocean. Was it not the interest of the\ninventor to disclose his invention? Would not the American government\nor any other give him any price he chose to ask?\n\nYet unfortunately, since the inventor of the terrestrial apparition\nhad persisted in preserving his incognito, was it not to be feared\nthat the inventor of the marine apparition would equally preserve\nhis? Even if the first machine still existed, it was no longer heard\nfrom; and would not the second, in the same way, after having\ndisclosed its powers, disappear in its turn, without a single trace?\n\nWhat gave weight to this probability was that since the arrival of\nthis report at Washington twenty-four hours before, the presence of\nthe extraordinary boat hadn\'t been announced from anywhere along the\nshore. Neither had it been seen on any other coast. Though, of\ncourse, the assertion that it would not reappear at all would have\nbeen hazardous, to say the least.\n\nI noted another interesting and possibly important point. It was a\nsingular coincidence which indeed Mr. Ward suggested to me, at the\nsame moment that I was considering it. This was that only after the\ndisappearance of the wonderful automobile had the no less wonderful\nboat come into view. Moreover, their engines both possessed a most\ndangerous power of locomotion. If both should go rushing at the same\ntime over the face of the world, the same danger would threaten\nmankind everywhere, in boats, in vehicles, and on foot. Therefore it\nwas absolutely necessary that the police should in some manner\ninterfere to protect the public ways of travel.\n\nThat is what Mr. Ward pointed out to me; and our duty was obvious.\nBut how could we accomplish this task? We discussed the matter for\nsome time; and I was just about to leave when Mr. Ward made one last\nsuggestion.\n\n\"Have you not observed, Strock,\" said he, \"that there is a sort of\nfantastic resemblance between the general appearance of this boat and\nthis automobile?\"\n\n\"There is something of the sort, Mr. Ward.\"\n\n\"Well, is it not possible that the two are one?\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 6\n\nTHE FIRST LETTER\n\n\nAfter leaving Mr. Ward I returned to my home in Long Street. There I\nhad plenty of time to consider this strange case uninterrupted by\neither wife or children. My household consisted solely of an ancient\nservant, who having been formerly in the service of my mother, had\nnow continued for fifteen years in mine.\n\nTwo months before I had obtained a leave of absence. It had still two\nweeks to run, unless indeed some unforeseen circumstance interrupted\nit, some mission which could not be delayed. This leave, as I have\nshown, had already been interrupted for four days by my exploration\nof the Great Eyrie.\n\nAnd now was it not my duty to abandon my vacation, and endeavor to\nthrow light upon the remarkable events of which the road to Milwaukee\nand the shore of New England had been in turn the scene? I would have\ngiven much to solve the twin mysteries, but how was it possible to\nfollow the track of this automobile or this boat?\n\nSeated in my easy chair after breakfast, with my pipe lighted, I\nopened my newspaper. To what should I turn? Politics interested me\nbut little, with its eternal strife between the Republicans and the\nDemocrats. Neither did I care for the news of society, nor for the\nsporting page. You will not be surprised, then, that my first idea\nwas to see if there was any news from North Carolina about the Great\nEyrie. There was little hope of this, however, for Mr. Smith had\npromised to telegraph me at once if anything occurred. I felt quite\nsure that the mayor of Morganton was as eager for information and as\nwatchful as could have been myself. The paper told me nothing new. It\ndropped idly from my hand; and I remained deep in thought.\n\nWhat most frequently recurred to me was the suggestion of Mr. Ward\nthat perhaps the automobile and the boat which had attracted our\nattention were in reality one and the same. Very probably, at least,\nthe two machines had been built by the same hand. And beyond doubt,\nthese were similar engines, which generated this remarkable speed,\nmore than doubling the previous records of earth and sea.\n\n\"The same inventor!\" repeated I.\n\nEvidently this hypothesis had strong grounds. The fact that the two\nmachines had not yet appeared at the same time added weight to the\nidea. I murmured to myself, \"After the mystery of Great Eyrie, comes\nthat of Milwaukee and Boston. Will this new problem be as difficult\nto solve as was the other?\"\n\nI noted idly that this new affair had a general resemblance to the\nother, since both menaced the security of the general public. To be\nsure, only the inhabitants of the Blueridge region had been in danger\nfrom an eruption or possible earthquake at Great Eyrie. While now, on\nevery road of the United States, or along every league of its coasts\nand harbors, every inhabitant was in danger from this vehicle or this\nboat, with its sudden appearance and insane speed.\n\nI found that, as was to be expected, the newspapers not only\nsuggested, but enlarged upon the dangers of the case. Timid people\neverywhere were much alarmed. My old servant, naturally credulous and\nsuperstitious, was particularly upset. That same day after dinner, as\nshe was clearing away the things, she stopped before me, a water\nbottle in one hand, the serviette in the other, and asked anxiously,\n\"Is there no news, sir?\"\n\n\"None,\" I answered, knowing well to what she referred.\n\n\"The automobile has not come back?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Nor the boat?\"\n\n\"Nor the boat There is no news even-in the best informed papers.\"\n\n\"But--your secret police information?\"\n\n\"We are no wiser.\"\n\n\"Then, sir, if you please, of what use are the police?\"\n\nIt is a question which has phased me more than once.\n\n\"Now you see what will happen,\" continued the old housekeeper,\ncomplainingly, \"Some fine morning, he will come without warning, this\nterrible chauffeur, and rush down our street here, and kill us all!\"\n\n\"Good! When that happens, there will be some chance of catching him.\"\n\n\"He will never be arrested, sir.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because he is the devil himself, and you can\'t arrest the devil!\"\n\nDecidedly, thought I, the devil has many uses; and if he did not\nexist we would have to invent him, to give people some way of\nexplaining the inexplicable. It was he who lit the flames of the\nGreat Eyrie. It was he who smashed the record in the Wisconsin race.\nIt is he who is scurrying along the shores of Connecticut and\nMassachusetts. But putting to one side this evil spirit who is so\nnecessary, for the convenience of the ignorant, there was no doubt\nthat we were facing a most bewildering problem. Had both of these\nmachines disappeared forever? They had passed like a meteor, like a\nstar shooting through space; and in a hundred years the adventure\nwould become a legend, much to the taste of the gossips of the next\ncentury.\n\nFor several days the newspapers of America and even those of Europe\ncontinued to discuss these events. Editorials crowded upon\neditorials. Rumors were added to rumors. Story tellers of every kind\ncrowded to the front. The public of two continents was interested. In\nsome parts of Europe there was even jealousy that America should have\nbeen chosen as the field of such an experience. If these marvelous\ninventors were American, then their country, their army and navy,\nwould have a great advantage over others. The United States might\nacquire an incontestable superiority.\n\nUnder the date of the tenth of June, a New York paper published a\ncarefully studied article on this phase of the subject. Comparing the\nspeed of the swiftest known vessels with the smallest minimum of\nspeed which could possibly be assigned to the new boat, the article\ndemonstrated that if the United States secured this secret, Europe\nwould be but three days away from her, while she would still be five\ndays from Europe.\n\nIf our own police had searched diligently to discover the mystery of\nthe Great Eyrie, the secret service of every country in the world was\nnow interested in these new problems.\n\nMr. Ward referred to the matter each time I saw him. Our chat would\nbegin by his rallying me about my ill-success in Carolina, and I\nwould respond by reminding him that success there was only a question\nof expense.\n\n\"Never mind, my good Strock,\" said he, \"there will come a chance for\nour clever inspector to regain his laurels. Take now this affair of\nthe automobile and the boat. If you could clear that up in advance of\nall the detectives of the world, what an honor it would be to our\ndepartment! What glory for you!\"\n\n\"It certainly would, Mr. Ward. And if you put the matter in my\ncharge--\"\n\n\"Who knows, Strock? Let us wait a while! Let us wait!\"\n\nMatters stood thus when, on the morning of June fifteenth, my old\nservant brought me a letter from the letter-carrier, a registered\nletter for which I had to sign. I looked at the address. I did not\nknow the handwriting. The postmark, dating from two days before, was\nstamped at the post office of Morganton.\n\nMorganton! Here at last was, no doubt, news from Mr. Elias Smith.\n\n\"Yes!\" exclaimed I, speaking to my old servant, for lack of another,\n\"it must be from Mr. Smith at last. I know no one else in Morganton.\nAnd if he writes he has news!\"\n\n\"Morganton?\" said the old woman, \"isn\'t that the place where the\ndemons set fire to their mountain?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"Oh, sir! I hope you don\'t mean to go back there!\"\n\n\"Because you will end by being burned up in that furnace of the Great\nEyrie. And I wouldn\'t want you buried that way, sir.\"\n\n\"Cheer up, and let us see if it is not better news than that.\"\n\nThe envelope was sealed with red sealing wax, and stamped with a sort\nof coat of arms, surmounted with three stars. The paper was thick and\nvery strong. I broke the envelope and drew out a letter. It was a\nsingle sheet, folded in four, and written on one side only. My first\nglance was for the signature.\n\nThere was no signature! Nothing but three initials at the end of the\nlast line!\n\n\"The letter is not from the Mayor of Morganton,\" said I.\n\n\"Then from whom?\" asked the old servant, doubly curious in her\nquality as a woman and as an old gossip.\n\nLooking again at the three initials of the signature, I said, \"I know\nno one for whom these letters would stand; neither at Morganton nor\nelsewhere.\"\n\nThe hand-writing was bold. Both up strokes and down strokes very\nsharp, about twenty lines in all. Here is the letter, of which I,\nwith good reason, retained an exact copy. It was dated, to my extreme\nstupefaction, from that mysterious Great Eyrie:\n\n\nGreat Eyrie, Blueridge Mtns,\n\nTo Mr. Strock: North Carolina, June 13th.\n\nChief Inspector of Police,\n\n34 Long St., Washington, D. C.\n\nSir,\n\nYou were charged with the mission of penetrating the Great Eyrie.\n\nYou came on April the twenty-eighth, accompanied by the\nMayor of Morganton and two guides.\n\nYou mounted to the foot of the wall, and you encircled it,\nfinding it too high and steep to climb.\n\nYou sought a breech and you found none. Know this: none\nenter the Great Eyrie; or if one enters, he never returns.\n\n\"Do not try again, for the second attempt will not result\nas did the first, but will have grave consequences for you.\n\n\"Heed this warning, or evil fortune will come to you.\n\n\"M. o. W.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 7\n\nA THIRD MACHINE\n\n\nI confess that at first this letter dumfounded me. \"Ohs!\" and \"Ahs!\"\nslipped from my open mouth. The old servant stared at me, not knowing\nwhat to think.\n\n\"Oh, sir! is it bad news?\"\n\nI answered for I kept few secrets from this faithful soul by reading\nher the letter from end to end. She listened with much anxiety.\n\n\"A joke, without doubt,\" said I, shrugging my shoulders.\n\n\"Well,\" returned my superstitious handmaid, \"if it isn\'t from the\ndevil, it\'s from the devil\'s country, anyway.\"\n\nLeft alone, I again went over this unexpected letter. Reflection\ninclined me yet more strongly to believe that it was the work of a\npractical joker. My adventure was well known. The newspapers had\ngiven it in full detail. Some satirist, such as exists even in\nAmerica, must have written this threatening letter to mock me.\n\nTo assume, on the other hand, that the Eyrie really served as the\nrefuge of a band of criminals, seemed absurd. If they feared that the\npolice would discover their retreat, surely they would not have been\nso foolish as thus to force attention upon themselves. Their chief\nsecurity would lie in keeping their presence there unknown. They must\nhave realized that such a challenge from them would only arouse the\npolice to renewed activity. Dynamite or melinite would soon open an\nentrance to their fortress. Moreover, how could these men have,\nthemselves, gained entrance into the Eyrie unless there existed a\npassage which we had failed to discover? Assuredly the letter came\nfrom a jester or a madman; and I need not worry over it, nor even\nconsider it.\n\nHence, though for an instant I had thought of showing this letter to\nMr. Ward, I decided not to do so. Surely he would attach no\nimportance to it. However, I did not destroy it, but locked it in my\ndesk for safe keeping. If more letters came of the same kind, and\nwith the same initials, I would attach as little weight to them as to\nthis.\n\nSeveral days passed quietly. There was nothing to lead me to expect\nthat I should soon quit Washington; though in my line of duty one is\nnever certain of the morrow. At any moment I might be sent speeding\nfrom Oregon to Florida, from Maine to Texas. And this unpleasant\nthought haunted me frequently if my next mission were no more\nsuccessful than that to the Great Eyrie, I might as well give up and\nhand in my resignation from the force. Of the mysterious chauffeur or\nchauffeurs, nothing more was heard. I knew that our own government\nagents, as well as foreign ones, were keeping keen watch over all the\nroads and rivers, all the lakes and the coasts of America. Of course,\nthe size of the country made any close supervision impossible; but\nthese twin inventors had not before chosen secluded and unfrequented\nspots in which to appear. The main highway of Wisconsin on a great\nrace day, the harbor of Boston, incessantly crossed by thousands of\nboats, these were hardly what would be called hiding-places! If the\ndaring driver had not perished of which there was always strong\nprobability; then he must have left America. Perhaps he was in the\nwaters of the Old World, or else resting in some retreat known only\nto himself, and in that case--\n\n\"Ah!\" I repeated to myself, many times, \"for such a retreat, as\nsecret as inaccessible, this fantastic personage could not find one\nbetter than the Great Eyrie!\" But, of course, a boat could not get\nthere, any more than an automobile. Only high-flying birds of prey,\neagles or condors, could find refuge there.\n\nThe nineteenth of June I was going to the police bureau, when, on\nleaving my house, I noticed two men who looked at me with a certain\nkeenness. Not knowing them, I took no notice; and if my attention was\ndrawn to the matter, it was because my servant spoke of it when I\nreturned.\n\nFor some days, she said, she had noticed that two men seemed to be\nspying upon me in the street. They stood constantly, perhaps a\nhundred steps from my house; and she suspected that they followed me\neach time I went up the street.\n\n\"You are sure?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes, sir and no longer ago than yesterday, when you came into the\nhouse, these men came slipping along in your footsteps, and then went\naway as soon as the door was shut behind you.\"\n\n\"You must be mistaken?\"\n\n\"I am not, sir.\"\n\n\"And if you met these two men, you would know them?\"\n\n\"I would.\"\n\n\"Good;\" I cried, laughing, \"I see you have the very spirit for a\ndetective. I must engage you as a member of our force.\"\n\n\"Joke if you like, sir. But I have still two good eyes, and I don\'t\nneed spectacles to recognize people. Someone is spying on you, that\'s\ncertain; and you should put some of your men to track them in turn.\"\n\n\"All right; I promise to do so,\" I said, to satisfy her. \"And when my\nmen get after them, we shall soon know what these mysterious fellows\nwant of me.\"\n\nIn truth I did not take the good soul\'s excited announcement very\nseriously. I added, however, \"When I go out, I will watch the people\naround me with great care.\"\n\n\"That will be best, sir.\"\n\nMy poor old housekeeper was always frightening herself at nothing.\n\"If I see them again,\" she added, \"I will warn you before you set\nfoot out of doors.\"\n\n\"Agreed!\" And I broke off the conversation, knowing well that if I\nallowed her to run on, she would end by being sure that Beelzebub\nhimself and one of his chief attendants were at my heels.\n\nThe two following days, there was certainly no one spying on me,\neither at my exits or entrances. So I concluded my old servant had\nmade much of nothing, as usual. But on the morning of the\ntwenty-second of June, after rushing upstairs as rapidly as her age\nwould permit, the devoted old soul burst into my room and in a half\nwhisper gasped \"Sir! Sir!\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"They are there!\"\n\n\"Who?\" I queried, my mind on anything but the web she had been\nspinning about me.\n\n\"The two spies!\"\n\n\"Ah, those wonderful spies!\"\n\n\"Themselves! In the street! Right in front of our windows! Watching\nthe house, waiting for you to go out.\"\n\nI went to the window and raising just an edge of the shade, so as not\nto give any warning, I saw two men on the pavement.\n\nThey were rather fine-looking men, broad-shouldered and vigorous,\naged somewhat under forty, dressed in the ordinary fashion of the\nday, with slouched hats, heavy woolen suits, stout walking shoes and\nsticks in hand. Undoubtedly, they were staring persistently at my\napparently unwatchful house. Then, having exchanged a few words, they\nstrolled off a little way, and returned again.\n\n\"Are you sure these are the same men you saw before?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nEvidently, I could no longer dismiss her warning as an hallucination;\nand I promised myself to clear up the matter. As to following the men\nmyself, I was presumably too well known to them. To address them\ndirectly would probably be of no use. But that very day, one of our\nbest men should be put on watch, and if the spies returned on the\nmorrow, they should be tracked in their turn, and watched until their\nidentity was established.\n\nAt the moment, they were waiting to follow me to police headquarters?\nFor it was there that I was bound, as usual. If they accompanied me I\nmight be able to offer them a hospitality for which they would scarce\nthank me.\n\nI took my hat; and while the housekeeper remained peeping from the\nwindow, I went down stairs, opened the door, and stepped into the\nstreet.\n\nThe two men were no longer there.\n\nDespite all my watchfulness, that day I saw no more of them as I\npassed along the streets. From that time on, indeed, neither my old\nservant nor I saw them again before the house, nor did I encounter\nthem elsewhere. Their appearance, however, was stamped upon my\nmemory, I would not forget them.\n\nPerhaps after all, admitting that I had been the object of their\nespionage, they had been mistaken in my identity. Having obtained a\ngood look at me, they now followed me no more. So in the end, I came\nto regard this matter as of no more importance than the letter with\nthe initials, M. o. W.\n\nThen, on the twenty-fourth of June, there came a new event, to\nfurther stimulate both my interest and that of the general public in\nthe previous mysteries of the automobile and the boat. The Washington\nEvening Star published the following account, which was next morning\ncopied by every paper in the country.\n\n\"Lake Kirdall in Kansas, forty miles west of Topeka, is little known.\nIt deserves wider knowledge, and doubtless will have it hereafter,\nfor attention is now drawn to it in a very remarkable way.\n\n\"This lake, deep among the mountains, appears to have no outlet. What\nit loses by evaporation, it regains from the little neighboring\nstreamlets and the heavy rains.\n\n\"Lake Kirdall covers about seventy-five square miles, and its level\nis but slightly below that of the heights which surround it. Shut in\namong the mountains, it can be reached only by narrow and rocky\ngorges. Several villages, however, have sprung up upon its banks. It\nis full of fish, and fishing-boats cover its waters.\n\n\"Lake Kirdall is in many places fifty feet deep close to shore.\nSharp, pointed rocks form the edges of this huge basin. Its surges,\nroused by high winds, beat upon its banks with fury, and the houses\nnear at hand are often deluged with spray as if with the downpour of\na hurricane. The lake, already deep at the edge, becomes yet deeper\ntoward the center, where in some places soundings show over three\nhundred feet of water.\n\n\"The fishing industry supports a population of several thousands, and\nthere are several hundred fishing boats in addition to the dozen or\nso of little steamers which serve the traffic of the lake. Beyond the\ncircle of the mountains lie the railroads which transport the\nproducts of the fishing industry throughout Kansas and the\nneighboring states.\n\n\"This account of Lake Kirdall is necessary for the understanding of\nthe remarkable facts which we are about to report.\"\n\nAnd this is what the Evening Star then reported in its startling\narticle. \"For some time past, the fishermen have noticed a strange\nupheaval in the waters of the lake. Sometimes it rises as if a wave\nsurged up from its depths. Even in perfectly calm weather, when there\nis no wind whatever, this upheaval sometimes arises in a mass of foam.\n\n\"Tossed about by violent waves and unaccountable currents, boats have\nbeen swept beyond all control. Sometimes they have been dashed one\nagainst another, and serious damage has resulted.\n\n\"This confusion of the waters evidently has its origin somewhere in\nthe depths of the lake; and various explanations have been offered to\naccount for it. At first, it was suggested that the trouble was due\nto seismic forces, to some volcanic action beneath the lake; but this\nhypothesis had to be rejected when it was recognized that the\ndisturbance was not confined to one locality, but spread itself over\nthe entire surface of the lake, either at one part or another, in the\ncenter or along the edges, traveling along almost in a regular line\nand in a way to exclude entirely all idea of earthquake or volcanic\naction.\n\n\"Another hypothesis suggested that it was a marine monster who thus\nupheaved the waters. But unless the beast had been born in the lake\nand had there grown to its gigantic proportions unsuspected, which\nwas scarce possible, he must have come there from outside. Lake\nKirdall, however, has no connection with any other waters. If this\nlake were situated near any of the oceans, there might be\nsubterranean canals; but in the center of America, and at the height\nof some thousands of feet above sea-level, this is not possible. In\nshort, here is another riddle not easy to solve, and it is much\neasier to point out the impossibility of false explanations, than to\ndiscover the true one.\n\n\"Is it possible that a submarine boat is being experimented with\nbeneath the lake? Such boats are no longer impossible today. Some\nyears ago, at Bridgeport, Connecticut, there was launched a boat, The\nProtector, which could go on the water, under the water, and also\nupon land. Built by an inventor named Lake, supplied with two motors,\nan electric one of seventy-five horse power, and a gasoline one of\ntwo hundred and fifty horse power, it was also provided with wheels a\nyard in diameter, which enabled it to roll over the roads, as well as\nswim the seas.\n\n\"But even then, granting that the turmoil of Lake Kirdall might be\nproduced by a submarine, brought to a high degree of perfection,\nthere remains as before the question how could it have reached Lake\nKirdall? The lake, shut in on all sides by a circle of mountains, is\nno more accessible to a submarine than to a sea-monster.\n\n\"In whatever way this last puzzling question may be solved, the\nnature of this strange appearance can no longer be disputed since the\ntwentieth of June. On that day, in the afternoon, the schooner\n\"Markel\" while speeding with all sails set, came into violent\ncollision with something just below the water level. There was no\nshoal nor rock near; for the lake in this part is eighty or ninety\nfeet deep. The schooner with both her bow and her side badly broken,\nran great danger of sinking. She managed, however, to reach the shore\nbefore her decks were completely submerged.\n\n\"When the \'Markel\' had been pumped out and hauled up on shore, an\nexamination showed that she had received a blow near the bow as if\nfrom a powerful ram.\n\n\"From this it seems evident that there is actually a submarine boat\nwhich darts about beneath the surface of Lake Kirdall with most\nremarkable rapidity.\n\n\"The thing is difficult to explain. Not only is there a question as\nto how did the submarine get there? But why is it there? Why does it\nnever come to the surface? What reason has its owner for remaining\nunknown? Are other disasters to be expected from its reckless course?\"\n\nThe article in the Evening Star closed with this truly striking\nsuggestion: \"After the mysterious automobile, came the mysterious\nboat. Now comes the mysterious submarine.\n\n\"Must we conclude that the three engines are due to the genius of the\nsame inventor, and that the three vehicles are in truth but one?\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 8\n\nAT ANY COST\n\n\nThe suggestion of the Star came like a revelation. It was accepted\neverywhere. Not only were these three vehicles the work of the same\ninventor; they were the same machine!\n\nIt was not easy to see how the remarkable transformation could be\npractically accomplished from one means of locomotion to the other.\nHow could an automobile become a boat, and yet more, a submarine? All\nthe machine seemed to lack was the power of flying through the air.\nNevertheless, everything that was known of the three different\nmachines, as to their size, their shape, their lack of odor or of\nsteam, and above all their remarkable speed, seemed to imply their\nidentity. The public, grown blase with so many excitements, found in\nthis new marvel a stimulus to reawaken their curiosity.\n\nThe newspapers dwelt now chiefly on the importance of the invention.\nThis new engine, whether in one vehicle or three, had given proofs of\nits power. What amazing proofs! The invention must be bought at any\nprice. The United States government must purchase it at once for the\nuse of the nation. Assuredly, the great European powers would stop at\nnothing to be beforehand with America, and gain possession of an\nengine so invaluable for military and naval use. What incalculable\nadvantages would it give to any nation, both on land and sea! Its\ndestructive powers could not even be estimated, until its qualities\nand limitations were better known. No amount of money would be too\ngreat to pay for the secret; America could not put her millions to\nbetter use.\n\nBut to buy the machine, it was necessary to find the inventor; and\nthere seemed the chief difficulty. In vain was Lake Kirdall searched\nfrom end to end. Even its depths were explored with a sounding-line\nwithout result. Must it be concluded that the submarine no longer\nlurked beneath its waters? But in that case, how had the boat gotten\naway? For that matter, how had it come? An insoluble problem!\n\nThe submarine was heard from no more, neither in Lake Kirdall nor\nelsewhere. It had disappeared like the automobile from the roads, and\nlike the boat from the shores of America. Several times in my\ninterviews with Mr. Ward, we discussed this matter, which still\nfilled his mind. Our men continued everywhere on the lookout, but as\nunsuccessfully as other agents.\n\nOn the morning of the twenty-seventh of June, I was summoned into the\npresence of Mr. Ward.\n\n\"Well, Strock,\" said he, \"here is a splendid chance for you to get\nyour revenge.\"\n\n\"Revenge for the Great Eyrie disappointment?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"What chance?\" asked I, not knowing if he spoke seriously, or in jest.\n\n\"Why, here,\" he answered. \"Would not you like to discover the\ninventor of this three-fold machine?\"\n\n\"I certainly should, Mr. Ward. Give me the order to take charge of\nthe matter, and I will accomplish the impossible, in order to\nsucceed. It is true, I believe it will be difficult.\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly, Strock. Perhaps even more difficult than to penetrate\ninto the Great Eyrie.\"\n\nIt was evident that Mr. Ward was intent on rallying me about my\nunsuccess. He would not do that, I felt assured, out of mere\nunkindness. Perhaps then he meant to rouse my resolution. He knew me\nwell; and realized that I would have given anything in the world to\nrecoup my defeat. I waited quietly for new instructions.\n\nMr. Ward dropped his jesting and said to me very generously, \"I know,\nStrock, that you accomplished everything that depended on human\npowers; and that no blame attaches to you. But we face now a matter\nvery different from that of the Great Eyrie. The day the government\ndecides to force that secret, everything is ready. We have only to\nspend some thousands of dollars, and the road will be open.\"\n\n\"That is what I would urge.\"\n\n\"But at present,\" said Mr. Ward, shaking his head, \"it is much more\nimportant to place our hands on this fantastic inventor, who so\nconstantly escapes us. That is work for a detective, indeed; a master\ndetective!\"\n\n\"He has not been heard from again?\"\n\n\"No; and though there is every reason to believe that he has been,\nand still continues, beneath the waters of Lake Kirdall, it has been\nimpossible to find any trace of him anywhere around there. One would\nalmost fancy he had the power of making himself invisible, this\nProteus of a mechanic!\"\n\n\"It seems likely,\" said I, \"that he will never be seen until he\nwishes to be.\"\n\n\"True, Strock. And to my mind there is only one way of dealing with\nhim, and that is to offer him such an enormous price that he cannot\nrefuse to sell his invention.\"\n\nMr. Ward was right. Indeed, the government had already made the\neffort to secure speech with this hero of the day, than whom surely\nno human being has ever better merited the title. The press had\nwidely spread the news, and this extraordinary individual must\nassuredly know what the government desired of him, and how completely\nhe could name the terms he wished.\n\n\"Surely,\" added Mr. Ward, \"this invention can be of no personal use\nto the man, that he should hide it from the rest of us. There is\nevery reason why he should sell it. Can this unknown be already some\ndangerous criminal who, thanks to his machine, hopes to defy all\npursuit?\"\n\nMy chief then went on to explain that it had been decided to employ\nother means in search of the inventor. It was possible after all that\nhe had perished with his machine in some dangerous maneuver. If so,\nthe ruined vehicle might prove almost as valuable and instructive to\nthe mechanical world as the man himself. But since the accident to\nthe schooner \"Markel\" on Lake Kirdall, no news of him whatever had\nreached the police.\n\nOn this point Mr. Ward did not attempt to hide his disappointment and\nhis anxiety. Anxiety, yes, for it was manifestly becoming more and\nmore difficult for him to fulfill his duty of protecting the public.\nHow could we arrest criminals, if they could flee from justice at\nsuch speed over both land and sea? How could we pursue them under the\noceans? And when dirigible balloons should also have reached their\nfull perfection, we would even have to chase men through the air! I\nasked myself if my colleagues and I would not find ourselves some day\nreduced to utter helplessness? If police officials, become a useless\nincumbrance, would be definitely discarded by society?\n\nHere, there recurred to me the jesting letter I had received a\nfortnight before, the letter which threatened my liberty and even my\nlife. I recalled, also, the singular espionage of which I had been\nthe subject. I asked myself if I had better mention these things to\nMr. Ward. But they seemed to have absolutely no relation to the\nmatter now in hand. The Great Eyrie affair had been definitely put\naside by the government, since an eruption was no longer threatening.\nAnd they now wished to employ me upon this newer matter. I waited,\nthen, to mention this letter to my chief at some future time, when it\nwould be not so sore a joke to me.\n\nMr. Ward again took up our conversation. \"We are resolved by some\nmeans to establish communication with this inventor. He has\ndisappeared, it is true; but he may reappear at any moment, and in\nany part of the country. I have chosen you, Strock, to follow him the\ninstant he appears. You must hold yourself ready to leave Washington\non the moment. Do not quit your house, except to come here to\nheadquarters each day; notify me, each time by telephone, when you\nstart from home, and report to me personally the moment you arrive\nhere.\"\n\n\"I will follow orders exactly, Mr. Ward,\" I answered. \"But permit me\none question. Ought I to act alone, or will it not be better to join\nwith me?\"\n\n\"That is what I intend,\" said the chief, interrupting me. \"You are to\nchoose two of our men whom you think the best fitted.\"\n\n\"I will do so, Mr. Ward. And now, if some day or other I stand in the\npresence of our man, what am I to do with him?\"\n\n\"Above all things, do not lose sight of him. If there is no other\nway, arrest him. You shall have a warrant.\"\n\n\"A useful precaution, Mr. Ward. If he started to jump into his\nautomobile and to speed away at the rate we know of, I must stop him\nat any cost. One cannot argue long with a man making two hundred\nmiles an hour!\"\n\n\"You must prevent that, Strock. And the arrest made, telegraph me.\nAfter that, the matter will be in my hands.\"\n\n\"Count on me, Mr. Ward; at any hour, day or night, I shall be ready\nto start with my men. I thank you for having entrusted this mission\nto me. If it succeeds, it will be a great honor--\"\n\n\"And of great profit,\" added my chief, dismissing me.\n\nReturning home, I made all preparations for a trip of indefinite\nduration. Perhaps my good housekeeper imagined that I planned a\nreturn to the Great Eyrie, which she regarded as an ante-chamber of\nhell itself. She said nothing, but went about her work with a most\ndespairing face. Nevertheless, sure as I was of her discretion, I\ntold her nothing. In this great mission I would confide in no one.\n\nMy choice of the two men to accompany me was easily made. They both\nbelonged to my own department, and had many times under my direct\ncommand given proofs of their vigor, courage and intelligence. One,\nJohn Hart, of Illinois, was a man of thirty years; the other, aged\nthirty-two, was Nab Walker, of Massachusetts. I could not have had\nbetter assistants.\n\nSeveral days passed, without news, either of the automobile, the\nboat, or the submarine. There were rumors in plenty; but the police\nknew them to be false. As to the reckless stories that appeared in\nthe newspapers, they had most of them, no foundation whatever. Even\nthe best journals cannot be trusted to refuse an exciting bit of news\non the mere ground of its unreliability.\n\nThen, twice in quick succession, there came what seemed trustworthy\nreports of the \"man of the hour.\" The first asserted that he had been\nseen on the roads of Arkansas, near Little Rock. The second, that he\nwas in the very middle of Lake Superior.\n\nUnfortunately, these two notices were absolutely unreconcilable; for\nwhile the first gave the afternoon of June twenty-sixth, as the time\nof appearance, the second set it for the evening of the same day.\nNow, these two points of the United States territory are not less\nthan eight hundred miles apart. Even granting the automobile this\nunthinkable speed, greater than any it had yet shown, how could it\nhave crossed all the intervening country unseen? How could it\ntraverse the States of Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa and Wisconsin, from\nend to end without anyone of our agents giving us warning, without\nany interested person rushing to a telephone?\n\nAfter these two momentary appearances, if appearances they were, the\nmachine again dropped out of knowledge. Mr. Ward did not think it\nworth while to dispatch me and my men to either point whence it had\nbeen reported.\n\nYet since this marvelous machine seemed still in existence, something\nmust be done. The following official notice was published in every\nnewspaper of the United States under July 3d. It was couched in the\nmost formal terms.\n\n\"During the month of April, of the present year, an automobile\ntraversed the roads of Pennsylvania, of Kentucky, of Ohio, of\nTennessee, of Missouri, of Illinois; and on the twenty-seventh of\nMay, during the race held by the American Automobile Club, it covered\nthe course in Wisconsin. Then it disappeared.\n\n\"During the first week of June, a boat maneuvering at great speed\nappeared off the coast of New England between Cape Cod and Cape\nSable, and more particularly around Boston. Then it disappeared.\n\n\"In the second fortnight of the same month, a submarine boat was run\nbeneath the waters of Lake Kirdall, in Kansas. Then it disappeared.\n\n\"Everything points to the belief that the same inventor must have\nbuilt these three machines, or perhaps that they are the same\nmachine, constructed so as to travel both on land and water.\n\n\"A proposition is therefore addressed to the said inventor, whoever\nhe be, with the aim of acquiring the said machine.\n\n\"He is requested to make himself known and to name the terms upon\nwhich he will treat with the United States government. He is also\nrequested to answer as promptly as possible to the Department of\nFederal Police, Washington, D. C., United States of America.\"\n\nSuch was the notice printed in large type on the front page of every\nnewspaper. Surely it could not fail to reach the eye of him for whom\nit was intended, wherever he might be. He would read it. He could\nscarce fail to answer it in some manner. And why should he refuse\nsuch an unlimited offer? We had only to await his reply.\n\nOne can easily imagine how high the public curiosity rose. From\nmorning till night, an eager and noisy crowd pressed about the bureau\nof police, awaiting the arrival of a letter or a telegram. The best\nreporters were on the spot. What honor, what profit would come to the\npaper which was first to publish the famous news! To know at last the\nname and place of the undiscoverable unknown! And to know if he would\nagree to some bargain with the government! It goes without saying\nthat America does things on a magnificent scale. Millions would not\nbe lacking for the inventor. If necessary all the millionaires in the\ncountry would open their inexhaustible purses!\n\nThe day passed. To how many excited and impatient people it seemed to\ncontain more than twenty-four hours! And each hour held far more than\nsixty minutes! There came no answer, no letter, no telegram! The\nnight following, there was still no news. And it was the same the\nnext day and the next.\n\nThere came, however another result, which had been fully foreseen.\nThe cables informed Europe of what the United States government had\ndone. The different Powers of the Old World hoped also to obtain\npossession of the wonderful invention. Why should they not struggle\nfor an advantage so tremendous? Why should they not enter the contest\nwith their millions?\n\nIn brief, every great Power took part in the affair, France, England,\nRussia, Italy, Austria, Germany. Only the states of the second order\nrefrained from entering, with their smaller resources, upon a useless\neffort. The European press published notices identical with that of\nthe United States. The extraordinary \"chauffeur\" had only to speak,\nto become a rival to the Vanderbilts, the Astors, the Goulds, the\nMorgans, and the Rothschilds of every country of Europe.\n\nAnd, when the mysterious inventor made no sign, what attractive\noffers were held forth to tempt him to discard the secrecy in which\nhe was enwrapped! The whole world became a public market, an auction\nhouse whence arose the most amazing bids. Twice a day the newspapers\nwould add up the amounts, and these kept rising from millions to\nmillions. The end came when the United States Congress, after a\nmemorable session, voted to offer the sum of twenty million dollars.\nAnd there was not a citizen of the States of whatever rank, who\nobjected to the amount, so much importance was attached to the\npossession of this prodigious engine of locomotion. As for me, I said\nemphatically to my old housekeeper: \"The machine is worth even more\nthan that.\"\n\nEvidently the other nations of the world did not think so, for their\nbids remained below the final sum. But how useless was this mighty\nstruggle of the great rivals! The inventor did not appear! He did not\nexist! He had never existed! It was all a monstrous pretense of the\nAmerican newspapers. That, at least, became the announced view of the\nOld World.\n\nAnd so the time passed. There was no further news of our man, there\nwas no response from him. He appeared no more. For my part, not\nknowing what to think, I commenced to lose all hope of reaching any\nsolution to the strange affair.\n\nThen on the morning of the fifteenth of July, a letter without\npostmark was found in the mailbox of the police bureau. After the\nauthorities had studied it, it was given out to the Washington\njournals, which published it in facsimile, in special numbers. It was\ncouched as follows:\n\n\n\n\nChapter 9\n\nTHE SECOND LETTER\n\n\nOn Board the Terror\n\nJuly 15.\n\nTo the Old and New World,\n\nThe propositions emanating from the different governments\nof Europe, as also that which has finally been made by the\nUnited States of America, need expect no other answer than\nthis:\n\nI refuse absolutely and definitely the sums offered for my\ninvention.\n\nMy machine will be neither French nor German, nor Austrian\nnor Russian, nor English nor American.\n\nThe invention will remain my own, and I shall use it as\npleases me.\n\nWith it, I hold control of the entire world, and there\nlies no force within the reach of humanity which is able to\nresist me, under any circumstances whatsoever.\n\nLet no one attempt to seize or stop me. It is, and will\nbe, utterly impossible. Whatever injury anyone attempts\nagainst me, I will return a hundredfold.\n\nAs to the money which is offered me, I despise it! I have\nno need of it. Moreover, on the day when it pleases me to\nhave millions, or billions, I have but to reach out my hand\nand take them.\n\nLet both the Old and the New World realize this: They can\naccomplish nothing against me; I can accomplish anything\nagainst them.\n\nI sign this letter:\n\nThe Master of the World.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 10\n\nOUTSIDE THE LAW\n\n\nSuch was the letter addressed to the government of the United States.\nAs to the person who had placed it in the mail-box of the police, no\none had seen him.\n\nThe sidewalk in front of our offices had probably not been once\nvacant during the entire night. From sunset to sunrise, there had\nalways been people, busy, anxious, or curious, passing before our\ndoor. It is true, however, that even then, the bearer of the letter\nmight easily have slipped by unseen and dropped the letter in the\nbox. The night had been so dark, you could scarcely see from one side\nof the street to the other.\n\nI have said that this letter appeared in facsimile in all the\nnewspapers to which the government communicated it. Perhaps one would\nnaturally imagine that the first comment of the public would be,\n\"This is the work of some practical joker.\" It was in that way that I\nhad accepted my letter from the Great Eyrie, five weeks before.\n\nBut this was not the general attitude toward the present letter,\nneither in Washington, nor in the rest of America. To the few who\nwould have maintained that the document should not be taken\nseriously, an immense majority would have responded. \"This letter has\nnot the style nor the spirit of a jester. Only one man could have\nwritten it; and that is the inventor of this unapproachable machine.\"\n\nTo most people this conclusion seemed indisputable owing to a curious\nstate of mind easily explainable. For all the strange facts of which\nthe key had hitherto been lacking, this letter furnished an\nexplanation. The theory now almost universally accepted was as\nfollows. The inventor had hidden himself for a time, only in order to\nreappear more startlingly in some new light. Instead of having\nperished in an accident, he had concealed himself in some retreat\nwhere the police were unable to discover him. Then to assert\npositively his attitude toward all governments he had written this\nletter. But instead of dropping it in the post in any one locality,\nwhich might have resulted in its being traced to him, he had come to\nWashington and deposited it himself in the very spot suggested by the\ngovernment\'s official notice, the bureau of police.\n\nWell! If this remarkable personage had reckoned that this new proof\nof his existence would make some noise in two worlds, he certainly\nfigured rightly. That day, the millions of good folk who read and\nre-read their daily paper could to employ a well-known phrase,\nscarcely believe their eyes.\n\nAs for myself, I studied carefully every phrase of the defiant\ndocument. The hand-writing was black and heavy. An expert at\nchirography would doubtless have distinguished in the lines traces of\na violent temperament, of a character stern and unsocial. Suddenly, a\ncry escaped me a cry that fortunately my housekeeper did not hear.\nWhy had I not noticed sooner the resemblance of the handwriting to\nthat of the letter I had received from Morganton?\n\nMoreover, a yet more significant coincidence, the initials with which\nmy letter had been signed, did they not stand for the words \"Master\nof the World?\"\n\nAnd whence came the second letter? \"On Board the \'Terror.\'\" Doubtless\nthis name was that of the triple machine commanded by the mysterious\ncaptain. The initials in my letter were his own signature; and it was\nhe who had threatened me, if I dared to renew my attempt on the Great\nEyrie.\n\nI rose and took from my desk the letter of June thirteenth. I\ncompared it with the facsimile in the newspapers. There was no doubt\nabout it. They were both in the same peculiar hand-writing.\n\nMy mind worked eagerly. I sought to trace the probable deductions\nfrom this striking fact, known only to myself. The man who had\nthreatened me was the commander of this \"Terror\"--startling name,\nonly too well justified! I asked myself if our search could not now\nbe prosecuted under less vague conditions. Could we not now start our\nmen upon a trail which would lead definitely to success? In short,\nwhat relation existed between the \"Terror\" and the Great Eyrie? What\nconnection was there between the phenomena of the Blueridge\nMountains, arid the no less phenomenal performances of the fantastic\nmachine?\n\nI knew what my first step should be; and with the letter in my\npocket, I hastened to police headquarters. Inquiring if Mr. Ward was\nwithin and receiving an affirmative reply, I hastened toward his\ndoor, and rapped upon it with unusual and perhaps unnecessary vigor.\nUpon his call to enter, I stepped eagerly into the room.\n\nThe chief had spread before him the letter published in the papers,\nnot a facsimile, but the original itself which had been deposited in\nthe letter-box of the department.\n\n\"You come as if you had important news, Strock?\"\n\n\"Judge for yourself, Mr. Ward;\" and I drew from my pocket the letter\nwith the initials.\n\nMr. Ward took it, glanced at its face, and asked, \"What is this?\"\n\n\"A letter signed only with initials, as you can see.\"\n\n\"And where was it posted?\"\n\n\"In Morganton, in North Carolina.\"\n\n\"When did you receive it?\"\n\n\"A month ago, the thirteenth of June.\"\n\n\"What did you think of it then?\"\n\n\"That it had been written as a joke.\"\n\n\"And now Strock?\"\n\n\"I think, what you will think, Mr. Ward, after you have studied it.\"\n\nMy chief turned to the letter again and read it carefully. \"It is\nsigned with three initials,\" said he.\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Ward, and those initials belong to the words, \'Master of\nthe World,\' in this facsimile.\"\n\n\"Of which this is the original,\" responded Mr. Ward, taking it up.\n\n\"It is quite evident,\" I urged, \"that the two letters are by the same\nhand.\"\n\n\"It seems so.\"\n\n\"You see what threats are made against me, to protect the Great\nEyrie.\"\n\n\"Yes, the threat of death! But Strock, you have had this letter for a\nmonth. Why have you not shown it to me before?\"\n\n\"Because I attached no importance to it. Today, after the letter from\nthe \'Terror,\' it must be taken seriously.\"\n\n\"I agree with you. It appears to me most important. I even hope it\nmay prove the means of tracking this strange personage.\"\n\n\"That is what I also hope, Mr. Ward.\"\n\n\"Only what connection can possibly exist between the \'Terror\' and the\nGreat Eyrie?\"\n\n\"That I do not know. I cannot even imagine.\"\n\n\"There can be but one explanation,\" continued Mr. Ward, \"though it is\nalmost inadmissible, even impossible.\"\n\n\"And that is?\"\n\n\"That the Great Eyrie was the spot selected by the inventor, where he\ngathered his material.\"\n\n\"That is impossible!\" cried I. \"In what way would he get his material\nin there? And how get his machine out? After what I have seen, Mr.\nWard, your suggestion is impossible.\"\n\n\"Unless, Strock--\"\n\n\"Unless what?\" I demanded.\n\n\"Unless the machine of this Master of the World has also wings, which\npermit it to take refuge in the Great Eyrie.\"\n\nAt the suggestion that the \"Terror,\" which had searched the deeps of\nthe sea, might be capable also of rivaling the vultures and the\neagles, I could not restrain an expressive shrug of incredulity.\nNeither did Mr. Ward himself dwell upon the extravagant hypothesis.\n\nHe took the two letters and compared them afresh. He examined them\nunder a microscope, especially the signatures, and established their\nperfect identity. Not only the same hand, but the same pen had\nwritten them.\n\nAfter some moments of further reflection, Mr. Ward said, \"I will keep\nyour letter, Strock. Decidedly, I think, that you are fated to play\nan important part in this strange affair or rather in these two\naffairs. What thread attaches them, I cannot yet see; but I am sure\nthe thread exists. You have been connected with the first, and it\nwill not be surprising if you have a large part in the second.\"\n\n\"I hope so, Mr. Ward. You know how inquisitive I am.\"\n\n\"I do, Strock. That is understood. Now, I can only repeat my former\norder; hold yourself in readiness to leave Washington at a moment\'s\nwarning.\"\n\nAll that day, the public excitement caused by the defiant letter\nmounted steadily higher. It was felt both at the White House and at\nthe Capitol that public opinion absolutely demanded some action. Of\ncourse, it was difficult to do anything. Where could one find this\nMaster of the World? And even if he were discovered, how could he be\ncaptured? He had at his disposal not only the powers he had\ndisplayed, but apparently still greater resources as yet unknown. How\nhad he been able to reach Lake Kirdall over the rocks; and how had he\nescaped from it? Then, if he had indeed appeared on Lake Superior,\nhow had he covered all the intervening territory unseen?\n\nWhat a bewildering affair it was altogether! This, of course, made it\nall the more important to get to the bottom of it. Since the millions\nof dollars had been refused, force must be employed. The inventor and\nhis invention were not to be bought. And in what haughty and menacing\nterms he had couched his refusal! So be it! He must be treated as an\nenemy of society, against whom all means became justified, that he\nmight be deprived of his power to injure others. The idea that he had\nperished was now entirely discarded. He was alive, very much alive;\nand his existence constituted a perpetual public danger!\n\nInfluenced by these ideas, the government issued the following\nproclamation:\n\n\"Since the commander of the \'Terror\' has refused to make public his\ninvention, at any price whatever, since the use which he makes of his\nmachine constitutes a public menace, against which it is impossible\nto guard, the said commander of the \'Terror\' is hereby placed beyond\nthe protection of the law. Any measures taken in the effort to\ncapture or destroy either him or his machine will be approved and\nrewarded.\"\n\nIt was a declaration of war, war to the death against this \"Master of\nthe World\" who thought to threaten and defy an entire nation, the\nAmerican nation!\n\nBefore the day was over, various rewards of large amounts were\npromised to anyone who revealed the hiding place of this dangerous\ninventor, to anyone who could identify him, and to anyone who should\nrid the country of him.\n\nSuch was the situation during the last fortnight of July. All was\nleft to the hazard of fortune. The moment the outlaw re-appeared he\nwould be seen and signaled, and when the chance came he would be\narrested. This could not be accomplished when he was in his\nautomobile on land or in his boat on the water. No; he must be seized\nsuddenly, before he had any opportunity to escape by means of that\nspeed which no other machine could equal.\n\nI was therefore all alert, awaiting an order from Mr. Ward to start\nout with my men. But the order did not arrive for the very good\nreason that the man whom it concerned remained undiscovered. The end\nof July approached. The newspapers continued the excitement. They\npublished repeated rumors. New clues were constantly being announced.\nBut all this was mere idle talk. Telegrams reached the police bureau\nfrom every part of America, each contradicting and nullifying the\nothers. The enormous rewards offered could not help but lead to\naccusations, errors, and blunders, made, many of them, in good faith.\nOne time it would be a cloud of dust, which must have contained the\nautomobile. At another time, almost any wave on any of America\'s\nthousand lakes represented the submarine. In truth, in the excited\nstate of the public imagination, apparitions assailed us from every\nside.\n\nAt last, on the twenty-ninth of July, I received a telephone message\nto come to Mr. Ward on the instant. Twenty minutes later I was in his\ncabinet.\n\n\"You leave in an hour, Strock,\" said he.\n\n\"Where for?\"\n\n\"For Toledo.\"\n\n\"It has been seen?\"\n\n\"Yes. At Toledo you will get your final orders.\"\n\n\"In an hour, my men and I will be on the way.\"\n\n\"Good! And, Strock, I now give you a formal order.\"\n\n\"What is it, Mr. Ward?\"\n\n\"To succeed! This time to succeed!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 11\n\nTHE CAMPAIGN\n\n\nSo the undiscoverable commander had reappeared upon the territory of\nthe United States! He had never shown himself in Europe either on the\nroads or in the seas. He had not crossed the Atlantic, which\napparently he could have traversed in three days. Did he then intend\nto make only America the scene of his exploits? Ought we to conclude\nfrom this that he was an American?\n\nLet me insist upon this point. It seemed clear that the submarine\nmight easily have crossed the vast sea which separates the New and\nthe Old World. Not only would its amazing speed have made its voyage\nshort, in comparison to that of the swiftest steamship, but also it\nwould have escaped all the storms that make the voyage dangerous.\nTempests did not exist for it. It had but to abandon the surface of\nthe waves, and it could find absolute calm a few score feet beneath.\n\nBut the inventor had not crossed the Atlantic, and if he were to be\ncaptured now, it would probably be in Ohio, since Toledo is a city of\nthat state.\n\nThis time the fact of the machine\'s appearance had been kept secret,\nbetween the police and the agent who had warned them, and whom I was\nhurrying to meet. No journal--and many would have paid high for the\nchance--was printing this news. We had decided that nothing should\nbe revealed until our effort was at an end. No indiscretion would be\ncommitted by either my comrades or myself.\n\nThe man to whom I was sent with an order from Mr. Ward was named\nArthur Wells. He awaited us at Toledo. The city of Toledo stands at\nthe western end of Lake Erie. Our train sped during the night across\nWest Virginia and Ohio. There was no delay; and before noon the next\nday the locomotive stopped in the Toledo depot.\n\nJohn Hart, Nab Walker and I stepped out with traveling bags in our\nhands, and revolvers in our pockets. Perhaps we should need weapons\nfor an attack, or even to defend ourselves. Scarcely had I stepped\nfrom the train when I picked out the man who awaited us. He was\nscanning the arriving passengers impatiently, evidently as eager and\nfull of haste as I.\n\nI approached him. \"Mr. Wells?\" said I.\n\n\"Mr. Strock?\" asked he.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I am at your command,\" said Mr. Wells.\n\n\"Are we to stop any time in Toledo?\" I asked.\n\n\"No; with your permission, Mr. Strock. A carriage with two good\nhorses is waiting outside the station; and we must leave at once to\nreach our destination as soon as possible.\"\n\n\"We will go at once,\" I answered, signing to my two men to follow us.\n\"Is it far?\"\n\n\"Twenty miles.\"\n\n\"And the place is called?\"\n\n\"Black Rock Creek.\"\n\nHaving left our bags at a hotel, we started on our drive. Much to my\nsurprise I found there were provisions sufficient for several days\npacked beneath the seat of the carriage. Mr. Wells told me that the\nregion around Black Rock Creek was among the wildest in the state.\nThere was nothing there to attract either farmers or fishermen. We\nwould find not an inn for our meals nor a room in which to sleep.\nFortunately, during the July heat there would be no hardship even if\nwe had to lie one or two nights under the stars.\n\nMore probably, however, if we were successful, the matter would not\noccupy us many hours. Either the commander of the \"Terror\" would be\nsurprised before he had a chance to escape, or he would take to\nflight and we must give up all hope of arresting him.\n\nI found Arthur Wells to be a man of about forty, large and powerful.\nI knew him by reputation to be one of the best of our local police\nagents. Cool in danger and enterprising always, he had proven his\ndaring on more than one occasion at the peril of his life. He had\nbeen in Toledo on a wholly different mission, when chance had thrown\nhim on the track of the \"Terror.\"\n\nWe drove rapidly along the shore of Lake Erie, toward the southwest.\nThis inland sea of water is on the northern boundary of the United\nStates, lying between Canada on one side and the States of Ohio,\nPennsylvania and New York on the other. If I stop to mention the\ngeographical position of this lake, its depth, its extent, and the\nwaters nearest around, it is because the knowledge is necessary for\nthe understanding of the events which were about to happen.\n\nThe surface of Lake Erie covers about ten thousand square miles. It\nis nearly six hundred feet above sea level. It is joined on the\nnorthwest, by means of the Detroit River, with the still greater\nlakes to the westward, and receives their waters. It has also rivers\nof its own though of less importance, such as the Rocky, the\nCuyahoga, and the Black. The lake empties at its northeastern end\ninto Lake Ontario by means of Niagara River and its celebrated falls.\n\nThe greatest known depth of Lake Erie is over one hundred and thirty\nfeet. Hence it will be seen that the mass of its waters is\nconsiderable. In short, this is a region of most magnificent lakes.\nThe land, though not situated far northward, is exposed to the full\nsweep of the Arctic cold. The region to the northward is low, and the\nwinds of winter rush down with extreme violence. Hence Lake Erie is\nsometimes frozen over from shore to shore.\n\nThe principal cities on the borders of this great lake are Buffalo at\nthe east, which belongs to New York State, and Toledo in Ohio, at the\nwest, with Cleveland and Sandusky, both Ohio cities, at the south.\nSmaller towns and villages are numerous along the shore. The traffic\nis naturally large, its annual value being estimated at considerably\nover two million dollars.\n\nOur carriage followed a rough and little used road along the borders\nof the lake; and as we toiled along, Arthur Wells told me, what he\nhad learned.\n\nLess than two days before, on the afternoon of July twenty-seventh\nWells had been riding on horseback toward the town of Herly. Five\nmiles outside the town, he was riding through a little wood, when he\nsaw, far up across the lake, a submarine which rose suddenly above\nthe waves. He stopped, tied his horse, and stole on foot to the edge\nof the lake. There, from behind a tree he had seen with his own eyes\nseen this submarine advance toward him, and stop at the mouth of\nBlack Rock Creek. Was it the famous machine for which the whole world\nwas seeking, which thus came directly to his feet?\n\nWhen the submarine was close to the rocks, two men climbed out upon\nits deck and stepped ashore. Was one of them this Master of the\nWorld, who had not been seen since he was reported from Lake\nSuperior? Was this the mysterious \"Terror\" which had thus risen from\nthe depths of Lake Erie?\n\n\"I was alone,\" said Wells. \"Alone on the edge of the Creek. If you\nand your assistants, Mr. Strock had been there, we four against two,\nwe would have been able to reach these men and seize them before they\ncould have regained their boat and fled.\"\n\n\"Probably,\" I answered. \"But were there no others on the boat with\nthem? Still, if we had seized the two, we could at least have learned\nwho they were.\"\n\n\"And above all,\" added Wells, \"if one of them turned out to be the\ncaptain of the \'Terror!\'\"\n\n\"I have only one fear, Wells; this submarine, whether it is the one\nwe seek or another, may have left the creek since your departure.\"\n\n\"We shall know about that in a few hours, now. Pray Heaven they are\nstill there! Then when night comes?\"\n\n\"But,\" I asked, \"did you remain watching in the wood until night?\"\n\n\"No; I left after an hour\'s watching, and rode straight for the\ntelegraph station at Toledo. I reached there late at night and sent\nimmediate word to Washington.\"\n\n\"That was night before last. Did you return yesterday to Black Rock\nCreek?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"The submarine was still there?\"\n\n\"In the same spot.\"\n\n\"And the two men?\"\n\n\"The same two men. I judge that some accident had happened, and they\ncame to this lonely spot to repair it.\"\n\n\"Probably so,\" said I. \"Some damage which made it impossible for them\nto regain their usual hiding-place. If only they are still here!\"\n\n\"I have reason to believe they will be, for quite a lot of stuff was\ntaken out of the boat, and laid about upon the shore; and as well as\nI could discern from a distance they seemed to be working on board.\"\n\n\"Only the two men?\"\n\n\"Only the two.\"\n\n\"But,\" protested I, \"can two be sufficient to handle an apparatus of\nsuch speed, and of such intricacy, as to be at once automobile, boat\nand submarine?\"\n\n\"I think not, Mr. Strock; but I only saw the same two. Several times\nthey came to the edge of the little wood where I was hidden, and\ngathered sticks for a fire which they made upon the beach. The region\nis so uninhabited and the creek so hidden from the lake that they ran\nlittle danger of discovery. They seemed to know this.\"\n\n\"You would recognize them both again?\"\n\n\"Perfectly. One was of middle size, vigorous, and quick of movement,\nheavily bearded. The other was smaller, but stocky and strong.\nYesterday, as before, I left the wood about five o\'clock and hurried\nback to Toledo. There I found a telegram from Mr. Ward, notifying me\nof your coming; and I awaited you at the station.\"\n\nSummed up, then, the news amounted to this: For forty hours past a\nsubmarine, presumably the one we sought, had been hidden in Black\nRock Creek, engaged in repairs. Probably these were absolutely\nnecessary, and we should find the boat still there. As to how the\n\"Terror\" came to be in Lake Erie, Arthur Wells and I discussed that,\nand agreed that it was a very probable place for her. The last time\nshe had been seen was on Lake Superior. From there to Lake Erie the\nmachine could have come by the roads of Michigan, but since no one\nhad remarked its passage and as both the police and the people were\nspecially aroused and active in that portion of the country, it\nseemed more probable, that the \"Terror\" had come by water. There was\na clear route through the chain of the Great Lakes and their rivers,\nby which in her character of a submarine she could easily proceed\nundiscovered.\n\nAnd now, if the \"Terror\" had already left the creek, or if she\nescaped when we attempted to seize her, in what direction would she\nturn? In any case, there was little chance o following her. There\nwere two torpedo-destroyers at the port of Buffalo, at the other\nextremity of Lake Erie. By treaty between the United States and\nCanada, there are no vessels of war whatever on the Great Lakes.\nThese might, however, have been little launches belonging to the\ncustoms service. Before I left Washington Mr. Ward had informed me\nof their presence; and a telegram to their commanders would, if there\nwere need, start them in pursuit of the \"Terror.\" But despite their\nsplendid speed, how could they vie with her! And if she plunged\nbeneath the waters, they would be helpless. Moreover Arthur Wells\naverred that in case of a battle, the advantage would not be with the\ndestroyers, despite their large crews, and many guns. Hence, if we\ndid not succeed this night, the campaign would end in failure.\n\nArthur Wells knew Black Rock Creek thoroughly, having hunted there\nmore than once. It was bordered in most places with sharp rocks\nagainst which the waters of the lake beat heavily. Its channel was\nsome thirty feet deep, so that the \"Terror\" could take shelter either\nupon the surface or under water. In two or three places the steep\nbanks gave way to sand beaches which led to little gorges reaching up\ntoward the woods, two or three hundred feet.\n\nIt was seven in the evening when our carriage reached these woods.\nThere was still daylight enough for us to see easily, even in the\nshade of the trees. To have crossed openly to the edge of the creek\nwould have exposed us to the view of the men of the \"Terror,\" if she\nwere still there, and thus give her warning to escape.\n\n\"Had we better stop here?\" I asked Wells, as our rig drew up to the\nedge of the woods.\n\n\"No, Mr. Strock,\" said he. \"We had better leave the carriage deeper\nin the woods, where there will be no chance whatever of our being\nseen.\"\n\n\"Can the carriage drive under these trees?\"\n\n\"It can,\" declared Wells. \"I have already explored these woods\nthoroughly. Five or six hundred feet from here, there is a little\nclearing, where we will be completely hidden, and where our horses\nmay find pasture. Then, as soon as it is dark, we will go down to the\nbeach, at the edge of the rocks which shut in the mouth of the creek.\nThus if the \'Terror\' is still there, we shall stand between her and\nescape.\"\n\nEager as we all were for action, it was evidently best to do as Wells\nsuggested and wait for night. The intervening time could well be\noccupied as he said. Leading the horses by the bridle, while they\ndragged the empty carriage, we proceeded through the heavy woods. The\ntall pines, the stalwart oaks, the cypress scattered here and there,\nmade the evening darker overhead. Beneath our feet spread a carpet of\nscattered herbs, pine needles and dead leaves. Such was the thickness\nof the upper foliage that the last rays of the setting sun could no\nlonger penetrate here. We had to feel our way; and it was not without\nsome knocks that the carriage reached the clearing ten minutes later.\n\nThis clearing, surrounded by great trees, formed a sort of oval,\ncovered with rich grass. Here it was still daylight, and the darkness\nwould scarcely deepen for over an hour. There was thus time to\narrange an encampment and to rest awhile after our hard trip over the\nrough and rocky roads.\n\nOf course, we were intensely eager to approach the Creek and see if\nthe \"Terror\" was still there. But prudence restrained us. A little\npatience, and the night-would enable us to reach a commanding\nposition unsuspected. Wells urged this strongly; and despite my\neagerness, I felt that he was right.\n\nThe horses were unharnessed, and left to browse under the care of the\ncoachman who had driven us. The provisions were unpacked, and John\nHart and Nab Walker spread out a meal on the grass at the foot of a\nsuperb cypress which recalled to me the forest odors of Morganton and\nPleasant Garden. We were hungry and thirsty; and food and drink were\nnot lacking. Then our pipes were lighted to calm the anxious moments\nof waiting that remained.\n\nSilence reigned within the wood. The last song of the birds had\nceased. With the coming of night the breeze fell little by little,\nand the leaves scarcely quivered even at the tops of the highest\nbranches. The sky darkened rapidly after sundown and twilight\ndeepened into obscurity.\n\nI looked at my watch, it was half-past eight. \"It is time, Wells.\"\n\n\"When you will, Mr. Strock.\"\n\n\"Then let us start.\"\n\nWe cautioned the coachman not to let the horses stray beyond the\nclearing. Then we started. Wells went in advance, I followed him, and\nJohn Hart and Nab Walker came behind. In the darkness, we three would\nhave been helpless without the guidance of Wells. Soon we reached the\nfarther border of the woods; and before us stretched the banks of\nBlack Rock Creek.\n\nAll was silent; all seemed deserted. We could advance without risk.\nIf the \"Terror\" was there, she had cast anchor behind the rocks. But\nwas she there? That was the momentous question! As we approached the\ndenouement of this exciting affair, my heart was in my throat.\n\nWells motioned to us to advance. The sand of the shore crunched\nbeneath our steps. The two hundred feet between us and the mouth of\nthe Creek were crossed softly, and a few minutes sufficed to bring us\nto the rocks at the edge of the lake.\n\nThere was nothing! Nothing!\n\nThe spot where Wells had left the \"Terror\" twenty-four hours before\nwas empty. The \"Master of the World\" was no longer at Black Rock\nCreek.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 12\n\nBLACK ROCK CREEK\n\n\nHuman nature is prone to illusions. Of course, there had been all\nalong a probability that the \"Terror\" had deserted the locality, even\nadmitting that it was she Wells had seen the previous day. If some\ndamage to her triple system of locomotion had prevented her from\nregaining either by land or by water her usual hiding-place, and\nobliged her to seek refuge in Black Rock Creek, what ought we to\nconclude now upon finding her here no longer? Obviously, that, having\nfinished her repairs, she had continued on her way, and was already\nfar beyond the waters of Lake Erie.\n\nBut probable as this result had been from the first, we had more and\nmore ignored it as our trip proceeded. We had come to accept as a\nfact that we should meet the \"Terror,\" that we should find her\nanchored at the base of the rocks where Wells had seen her.\n\nAnd now what disappointment! I might even say, what despair! All our\nefforts gone for nothing! Even if the \"Terror\" was still upon the\nlake, to find her, reach her and capture her, was beyond our power,\nand it might as well be fully recognized beyond all human power.\n\nWe stood there, Wells and I, completely crushed, while John Hart and\nNab Walker, no less chagrined, went tramping along the banks of the\nCreek, seeking any trace that had been left behind.\n\nPosted there, at the mouth of the Creek, Wells and I exchanged\nscarcely a word. What need was there of words to enable us to\nunderstand each other! After our eagerness and our despair, we were\nnow exhausted. Defeated in our well-planned attempt, we felt as\nunwilling to abandon our campaign, as we were unable to continue it.\n\nNearly an hour slipped by. We could not resolve to leave the place.\nOur eyes still sought to pierce the night. Sometimes a glimmer, due\nto the sparkle of the waters, trembled on the surface of the lake.\nThen it vanished, and with it the foolish hope that it had roused.\nSometimes again, we thought we saw a shadow outlined against the\ndark, the silhouette of an approaching boat. Yet again some eddies\nwould swirl up at our feet, as if the Creek had been stirred within\nits depths. These vain imaginings were dissipated one after the\nother. They were but the illusions raised by our strained fancies.\n\nAt length our companions rejoined us. My first question was, \"Nothing\nnew?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said John Hart.\n\n\"You have explored both banks of the Creek?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" responded Nab Walker, \"as far as the shallow water above; and\nwe have not seen even a vestige of the things which Mr. Wells saw\nlaid on the shore.\"\n\n\"Let us wait awhile,\" said I, unable to resolve upon a return to the\nwoods.\n\nAt that moment our attention was caught by a sudden agitation of the\nwaters, which swelled upward at the foot of the rocks.\n\n\"It is like the swell from a vessel,\" said Wells.\n\n\"Yes,\" said I, instinctively lowering my voice. \"What has caused it?\nThe wind has completely died out. Does it come from something on the\nsurface of the lake?\"\n\n\"Or from something underneath,\" said Wells, bending forward, the\nbetter to determine.\n\nThe commotion certainly seemed as if caused by some boat, whether\nfrom beneath the water, or approaching the creek from outside upon\nthe lake.\n\nSilent, motionless, we strained eyes and ears to pierce the profound\nobscurity. The faint noise of the waves of the lake lapping on the\nshore beyond the creek, came to us distinctly through the night. John\nHart and Nab Walker drew a little aside upon a higher ridge of rocks.\nAs for me, I leaned close to the water to watch the agitation. It did\nnot lessen. On the contrary it became momentarily more evident, and\nI began to distinguish a sort of regular throbbing, like that\nproduced by a screw in motion.\n\n\"There is no doubt,\" declared Wells, leaning close to me, \"there is a\nboat coming toward us.\"\n\n\"There certainly is,\" responded I, \"unless they have whales or sharks\nin Lake Erie.\"\n\n\"No, it is a boat,\" repeated Wells. \"Is she headed toward the mouth\nof the creek, or is she going further up it?\"\n\n\"This is just where you saw the boat twice before?\"\n\n\"Yes, just here.\"\n\n\"Then if this is the same one, and it can be no other, she will\nprobably return to the same spot.\"\n\n\"There!\" whispered Wells, extending his hand toward the entrance of\nthe creek.\n\nOur companions rejoined us, and all four, crouching low upon the\nbank, peered in the direction he pointed.\n\nWe vaguely distinguished a black mass moving through the darkness. It\nadvanced very slowly and was still outside the creek, upon the lake,\nperhaps a cable\'s length to the northeast. We could scarcely hear\neven now the faint throbbing of its engines. Perhaps they had stopped\nand the boat was only gliding forward under their previous impulse.\n\nIt seemed, then, that this was indeed the submarine which Wells had\nwatched, and it was returning to pass this night, like the last,\nwithin the shelter of the creek.\n\nWhy had it left the anchorage, if only to return? Had it suffered\nsome new disaster, which again impaired its power? Or had it been\nbefore compelled to leave, with its repairs still unfinished? What\ncause constrained it to return here? Was there some imperious reason\nwhy it could no longer be turned into an automobile, and go darting\naway across the roads of Ohio?\n\nTo all these questions which came crowding upon me, I could give no\nanswer. Furthermore both Wells and I kept reasoning under the\nassumption that this was really the \"Terror\" commanded by the \"Master\nof the World\" who had dated from it his letter of defiance to the\ngovernment. Yet this premise was still unproven, no matter how\nconfident we might feel of it.\n\nWhatever boat this was, that stole so softly through the night, it\ncontinued to approach us. Assuredly its captain must know perfectly\nthe channels and shores of Black Rock Creek, since he ventured here\nin such darkness. Not a light showed upon the deck. Not a single ray\nfrom within the cabin glimmered through any crevice.\n\nA moment later, we heard some machinery moving very softly. The swell\nof the eddies grew stronger, and in a few moments the boat touched\nthe quay.\n\nThis word \"quay,\" only used in that region, exactly describes the\nspot. The rocks at our feet formed a level, five or six feet above\nthe water, and descending to it perpendicularly, exactly like a\nlanding wharf.\n\n\"We must not stop here,\" whispered Wells, seizing me by the arm.\n\n\"No,\" I answered, \"they might see us. We must lie crouched upon the\nbeach! Or we might hide in some crevice of the rocks.\"\n\n\"We will follow you.\"\n\nThere was not a moment to lose. The dark mass was now close at hand,\nand on its deck, but slightly raised above the surface of the water,\nwe could trace the silhouettes of two men.\n\nWere there, then, really only two on board?\n\nWe stole softly back to where the ravines rose toward the woods\nabove. Several niches in the rocks were at hand. Wells and I crouched\ndown in one, my two assistants in another. If the men on the \"Terror\"\nlanded, they could not see us; but we could see them, and would be\nable to act as opportunity offered.\n\nThere were some slight noises from the boat, a few words exchanged in\nour own language. It was evident that the vessel was preparing to\nanchor. Then almost instantly, a rope was thrown out, exactly on the\npoint of the quay where we had stood.\n\nLeaning forward, Wells could discern that the rope was seized by one\nof the mariners, who had leaped ashore. Then we heard a\ngrappling-iron scrape along the ground.\n\nSome moments later, steps crunched upon the sand. Two men came up the\nravine, and went onward toward the edge of the woods, guiding their\nsteps by a ship lantern.\n\nWhere were they going? Was Black Rock Creek a regular hiding place of\nthe \"Terror?\" Had her commander a depot here for stores or\nprovisions? Did they come here to restock their craft, when the whim\nof their wild voyaging brought them to this part of the continent?\nDid they know this deserted, uninhabited spot so well, that they had\nno fear of ever being discovered here?\n\n\"What shall we do?\" whispered Wells.\n\n\"Wait till they return, and then--\" My words were cut short by a\nsurprise. The men were not thirty feet from us, when, one of them\nchancing to turn suddenly, the light of their lantern fell full upon\nhis face.\n\nHe was one of the two men who had watched before my house in Long\nStreet! I could not be mistaken! I recognized him as positively as my\nold servant had done. It was he; it was assuredly one of the spies of\nwhom I had never been able to find any further traces! There was no\nlonger any doubt, my warning letter had come from them. It was\ntherefore from the \"Master of the World\"; it had been written from\nthe \"Terror\" and this was the \"Terror.\" Once more I asked myself what\ncould be the connection between this machine and the Great Eyrie!\n\nIn whispered words, I told Wells of my discovery. His only comment\nwas, \"It is all incomprehensible!\"\n\nMeanwhile the two men had continued on their way to the woods, and\nwere gathering sticks beneath the trees. \"What if they discover our\nencampment?\" murmured Wells.\n\n\"No danger, if they do not go beyond the nearest trees.\"\n\n\"But if they do discover it?\"\n\n\"They will hurry back to their boat, and we shall be able to cut off\ntheir retreat.\"\n\nToward the creek, where their craft lay, there was no further sound.\nI left my hiding-place; I descended the ravine to the quay; I stood\non the very spot where the grappling-iron was fast among the rocks.\n\nThe \"Terror\" lay there, quiet at the end of its cable. Not a light\nwas on board; not a person visible, either on the deck, or on the\nbank. Was not this my opportunity? Should I leap on board and there\nawait the return of the two men?\n\n\"Mr. Strock!\" It was Wells, who called to me softly from close at\nhand.\n\nI drew back in all haste and crouched down beside him. Was it too\nlate to take possession of the boat? Or would the attempt perhaps\nresult in disaster from the presence of others watching on board?\n\nAt any rate, the two men with the lantern were close at hand\nreturning down the ravine. Plainly they suspected nothing. Each\ncarrying a bundle of wood, they came forward and stopped upon the\nquay.\n\nThen one of them raised his voice, though not loudly. \"Hullo!\nCaptain!\"\n\n\"All right,\" answered a voice from the boat.\n\nWells murmured in my ear, \"There are three!\"\n\n\"Perhaps four,\" I answered, \"perhaps five or six!\"\n\nThe situation grew more complicated. Against a crew so numerous, what\nought we to do? The least imprudence might cost us dear! Now that the\ntwo men had returned, would they re-embark with their faggots? Then\nwould the boat leave the creek, or would it remain anchored until\nday? If it withdrew, would it not be lost to us? It could leave the\nwaters of Lake Erie, and cross any of the neighboring states by land;\nor it could retrace its road by the Detroit River which would lead it\nto Lake Huron and the Great Lakes above. Would such an opportunity as\nthis, in the narrow waters of Black Rock Creek, ever occur again!\n\n\"At least,\" said I to Wells, \"we are four. They do not expect attack;\nthey will be surprised. The result is in the hands of Providence.\"\n\nI was about to call our two men, when Wells again seized my arm.\n\"Listen!\" said he.\n\nOne of the men hailed the boat, and it drew close up to the rocks. We\nheard the Captain say to the two men ashore, \"Everything is all\nright, up there?\"\n\n\"Everything, Captain.\"\n\n\"There are still two bundles of wood left there?\"\n\n\"Two.\"\n\n\"Then one more trip will bring them all on board the \'Terror.\'\"\n\nThe \"Terror!\" It WAS she!\n\n\"Yes; just one more trip,\" answered one of the men.\n\n\"Good; then we will start off again at daybreak.\"\n\nWere there then but three of them on board? The Captain, this Master\nof the World, and these two men?\n\nEvidently they planned to take aboard the last of their wood. Then\nthey would withdraw within their machine, and go to sleep. Would not\nthat be the time to surprise them, before they could defend\nthemselves?\n\nRather than to attempt to reach and capture the ship in face of this\nresolute Captain who was guarding it, Wells and I agreed that it was\nbetter to let his men return unassailed, and wait till they were all\nasleep.\n\nIt was now half an hour after ten. Steps were once more heard upon\nthe shore. The man with a lantern and his companion, again remounted\nthe ravine toward the woods. When they were safely beyond hearing,\nWells went to warn our men, while I stole forward again to the very\nedge of the water.\n\nThe \"Terror\" lay at the end of a short cable. As well as I could\njudge, she was long and slim, shaped like a spindle, without chimney,\nwithout masts, without rigging, such a shape as had been described\nwhen she was seen on the coast of New England.\n\nI returned to my place, with my men in the shelter of the ravine; and\nwe looked to our revolvers, which might well prove of service.\n\nFive minutes had passed since the men reached the woods, and we\nexpected their return at any moment. After that, we must wait at\nleast an hour before we made our attack; so that both the Captain and\nhis comrades might be deep in sleep. It was important that they\nshould have not a moment either to send their craft darting out upon\nthe waters of Lake Erie, or to plunge it beneath the waves where we\nwould have been entrapped with it.\n\nIn all my career I have never felt such impatience. It seemed to me\nthat the two men must have been detained in the woods. Something had\nbarred their return.\n\nSuddenly a loud noise was heard, the tumult of run-away horses,\ngalloping furiously along the shore!\n\nThey were our own, which, frightened, and perhaps neglected by the\ndriver, had broken away from the clearing, and now came rushing along\nthe bank.\n\nAt the same moment, the two men reappeared, and this time they were\nrunning with all speed. Doubtless they had discovered our encampment,\nand had at once suspected that there were police hidden in the woods.\nThey realized that they were watched, they were followed, they would\nbe seized. So they dashed recklessly down the ravine, and after\nloosening the cable, they would doubtless endeavor to leap aboard.\nThe \"Terror\" would disappear with the speed of a meteor, and our\nattempt would be wholly defeated!\n\n\"Forward,\" I cried. And we scrambled down the sides of the ravine to\ncut off the retreat of the two men.\n\nThey saw us and, on the instant, throwing down their bundles, fired\nat us with revolvers, hitting John Hart in the leg.\n\nWe fired in our turn, but less successfully. The men neither fell nor\nfaltered in their course. Reaching the edge of the creek, without\nstopping to unloose the cable, they plunged overboard, and in a\nmoment were clinging to the deck of the \"Terror.\"\n\nTheir captain, springing forward, revolver in hand, fired. The ball\ngrazed Wells.\n\nNab Walker and I seizing the cable, pulled the black mass of the boat\ntoward shore. Could they cut the rope in time to escape us?\n\nSuddenly the grappling-iron was torn violently from the rocks. One of\nits hooks caught in my belt, while Walker was knocked down by the\nflying cable. I was entangled by the iron and the rope and dragged\nforward--\n\nThe \"Terror,\" driven by all the power of her engines, made a single\nbound and darted out across Black Rock Creek.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 13\n\nON BOARD THE TERROR\n\n\nWhen I came to my senses it was daylight. A half light pierced the\nthick glass port-hole of the narrow cabin wherein someone had placed\nme--how many hours ago, I could not say! Yet it seemed to me\nby the slanting rays, that the sun could not be very far\nabove the horizon.\n\nI was resting in a narrow bunk with coverings over me. My clothes,\nhanging in a corner, had been dried. My belt, torn in half by the\nhook of the iron, lay on the floor.\n\nI felt no wound nor injury, only a little weakness. If I had lost\nconsciousness, I was sure it had not been from a blow. My head must\nhave been drawn beneath the water, when I was tangled in the cable. I\nshould have been suffocated, if someone had not dragged me from the\nlake.\n\nNow, was I on board the \"Terror?\" And was I alone with the Captain\nand his two men? This seemed probable, almost certain. The whole\nscene of our encounter rose before my eyes, Hart lying wounded upon\nthe bank; Wells firing shot after shot, Walker hurled down at the\ninstant when the grappling hook caught my belt! And my companions? On\ntheir side, must not they think that I had perished in the waters of\nLake Erie?\n\nWhere was the \"Terror\" now, and how was it navigating? Was it moving\nas an automobile? Speeding across the roads of some neighboring\nState? If so, and if I had been unconscious for many hours, the\nmachine with its tremendous powers must be already far away. Or, on\nthe other hand, were we, as a submarine, following some course\nbeneath the lake?\n\nNo, the \"Terror\" was moving upon some broad liquid surface. The\nsunlight, penetrating my cabin, showed that the window was not\nsubmerged. On the other hand, I felt none of the jolting that the\nautomobile must have suffered even on the smoothest highway. Hence\nthe \"Terror\" was not traveling upon land.\n\nAs to deciding whether she was still traversing Lake Erie, that was\nanother matter. Had not the Captain reascended the Detroit River, and\nentered Lake Huron, or even Lake Superior beyond? It was difficult to\nsay.\n\nAt any rate I decided to go up on deck. From there I might be able to\njudge. Dragging myself somewhat heavily from the bunk, I reached for\nmy clothes and dressed, though without much energy. Was I not\nprobably locked within this cabin?\n\nThe only exit seemed by a ladder and hatchway above my head. The\nhatch rose readily to my hand, and I ascended half way on deck.\n\nMy first care was to look forward, backward, and on both sides of the\nspeeding \"Terror.\" Everywhere a vast expanse of waves! Not a shore in\nsight! Nothing but the horizon formed by sea and sky!\n\nWhether it was a lake or the ocean I could easily settle. As we shot\nforward at such speed the water cut by the bow, rose furiously upward\non either side, and the spray lashed savagely against me.\n\nI tasted it. It was fresh water, and very probably that of Lake Erie.\nThe sun was but midway toward the zenith so it could scarcely be more\nthan seven or eight hours since the moment when the \"Terror\" had\ndarted from Black Rock Creek.\n\nThis must therefore be the following morning, that of the\nthirty-first of July.\n\nConsidering that Lake Erie is two hundred and twenty miles long, and\nover fifty wide, there was no reason to be surprised that I could see\nno land, neither that of the United States to the southeast nor of\nCanada to the northwest.\n\nAt this moment there were two men on the deck, one being at the bow\non the look-out, the other in the stern, keeping the course to the\nnortheast, as I judged by the position of the sun. The one at the bow\nwas he whom I had recognized as he ascended the ravine at Black Rock.\nThe second was his companion who had carried the lantern. I looked in\nvain for the one whom they had called Captain. He was not in sight.\n\nIt will be readily appreciated how eager was my desire to stand in\nthe presence of the creator of this prodigious machines of this\nfantastic personage who occupied and preoccupied the attention of all\nthe world, the daring inventor who did not fear to engage in battle\nagainst the entire human race, and who proclaimed himself \"Master of\nthe World.\"\n\nI approached the man on the look-out, and after a minute of silence I\nasked him, \"Where is the Captain?\"\n\nHe looked at me through half-closed eyes. He seemed not to understand\nme. Yet I knew, having heard him the night before, that he spoke\nEnglish. Moreover, I noticed that he did not appear surprised to see\nme out of my cabin. Turning his back upon me, he continued to search\nthe horizon.\n\nI stepped then toward the stern, determined to ask the same question\nabout the Captain. But when I approached the steersman, he waved me\naway with his hand, and I obtained no other response.\n\nIt only remained for me to study this craft, from which we had been\nrepelled with revolver shots, when we had seized upon its anchor rope.\n\nI therefore set leisurely to work to examine the construction of this\nmachine, which was carrying me--whither? The deck and the upper works\nwere all made of some metal which I did not recognize. In the center\nof the deck, a scuttle half raised covered the room where the engines\nwere working regularly and almost silently. As I had seen before,\nneither masts, nor rigging! Not even a flagstaff at the stern! Toward\nthe bow there arose the top of a periscope by which the \"Terror\"\ncould be guided when beneath the water.\n\nOn the sides were folded back two sort of outshoots resembling the\ngangways on certain Dutch boats. Of these I could not understand the\nuse.\n\nIn the bow there rose a third hatch-way which presumably covered the\nquarters occupied by the two men when the \"Terror\" was at rest.\n\nAt the stern a similar hatch gave access probably to the cabin of the\ncaptain, who remained unseen. When these different hatches were shut\ndown, they had a sort of rubber covering which closed them\nhermetically tight, so that the water could not reach the interior\nwhen the boat plunged beneath the ocean.\n\nAs to the motor, which imparted such prodigious speed to the machine,\nI could see nothing of it, nor of the propeller. However, the fast\nspeeding boat left behind it only a long, smooth wake. The extreme\nfineness of the lines of the craft, caused it to make scarcely any\nwaves, and enabled it to ride lightly over the crest of the billows\neven in a rough sea.\n\nAs was already known, the power by which the machine was driven, was\nneither steam nor gasoline, nor any of those similar liquids so well\nknown by their odor, which are usually employed for automobiles and\nsubmarines. No doubt the power here used was electricity, generated\non board, at some high power. Naturally I asked myself whence comes\nthis electricity, from piles, or from accumulators? But how were\nthese piles or accumulators charged? Unless, indeed, the electricity\nwas drawn directly from the surrounding air or from the water, by\nprocesses hitherto unknown. And I asked myself with intense eagerness\nif in the present situation, I might be able to discover these\nsecrets.\n\nThen I thought of my companions, left behind on the shore of Black\nRock Creek. One of them, I knew, was wounded; perhaps the others were\nalso. Having seen me dragged overboard by the hawser, could they\npossibly suppose that I had been rescued by the \"Terror?\" Surely not!\nDoubtless the news of my death had already been telegraphed to Mr.\nWard from Toledo. And now who would dare to undertake a new campaign\nagainst this \"Master of the World\"?\n\nThese thoughts occupied my mind as I awaited the captain\'s appearance\non the deck. He did not appear.\n\nI soon began to feel very hungry; for I must have fasted now nearly\ntwenty-four hours. I had eaten nothing since our hasty meal in the\nwoods, even if that had been the night before. And judging by the\npangs which now assailed my stomach, I began to wonder if I had not\nbeen snatched on board the \"Terror\" two days before,--or even more.\n\nHappily the question if they meant to feed me, and how they meant to\nfeed me, was solved at once. The man at the bow left his post,\ndescended, and reappeared. Then, without saying a word, he placed\nsome food before me and returned to his place. Some potted meat,\ndried fish, sea-biscuit, and a pot of ale so strong that I had to mix\nit with water, such was the meal to which I did full justice. My\nfellow travelers had doubtless eaten before I came out of the cabin,\nand they did not join me.\n\nThere was nothing further to attract my eyes, and I sank again into\nthought. How would this adventure finish? Would I see this invisible\ncaptain at length, and would he restore me to liberty? Could I regain\nit in spite of him? That would depend on circumstances! But if the\n\"Terror\" kept thus far away from the shore, or if she traveled\nbeneath the water, how could I escape from her? Unless we landed, and\nthe machine became an automobile, must I not abandon all hope of\nescape?\n\nMoreover--why should I not admit it?--to escape without having\nlearned anything of the \"Terror\'s\" secrets would not have contented\nme at all. Although I could not thus far flatter myself upon the\nsuccess of my campaign, and though I had come within a hairbreadth of\nlosing my life and though the future promised far more of evil than\nof good, yet after all, a step forward had been attained. To be sure,\nif I was never to be able to re-enter into communication with the\nworld, if, like this Master of the World who had voluntarily placed\nhimself outside the law, I was now placed outside humanity, then the\nfact that I had reached the \"Terror\" would have little value.\n\nThe craft continued headed to the northeast, following the longer\naxis of Lake Erie. She was advancing at only half speed; for, had she\nbeen doing her best, she must some hours before have reached the\nnortheastern extremity of the lake.\n\nAt this end Lake Erie has no other outlet than the Niagara River, by\nwhich it empties into Lake Ontario. Now, this river is barred by the\nfamous cataract some fifteen miles beyond the important city of\nBuffalo. Since the \"Terror\" had not retreated by the Detroit River,\ndown which she had descended from the upper lakes, how was she to\nescape from these waters, unless indeed she crossed by land?\n\nThe sun passed the meridian. The day was beautiful; warm but not\nunpleasantly so, thanks to the breeze made by our passage. The shores\nof the lake continued invisible on both the Canadian and the American\nside.\n\nWas the captain determined not to show himself? Had he some reason\nfor remaining unknown? Such a precaution would indicate that he\nintended to set me at liberty in the evening, when the \"Terror\" could\napproach the shore unseen.\n\nToward two o\'clock, however, I heard a slight noise; the central\nhatchway was raised. The man I had so impatiently awaited appeared on\ndeck.\n\nI must admit he paid no more attention to me, than his men had done.\nGoing to the stern, he took the helm. The man whom he had relieved,\nafter a few words in a low tone, left the deck, descending by the\nforward hatchway. The captain, having scanned the horizon, consulted\nthe compass, and slightly altered our course. The speed of the\n\"Terror\" increased.\n\nThis man, so interesting both to me and to the world, must have been\nsome years over fifty. He was of middle height, with powerful\nshoulders still very erect; a strong head, with thick hair rather\ngray than white, smooth shaven cheeks, and a short, crisp beard. His\nchest was broad, his jaw prominent, and he had that characteristic\nsign of tremendous energy, bushy eyebrows drawn sharply together.\nAssuredly he possessed a constitution of iron, splendid health, and\nwarm red blood beneath his sun burned skin.\n\nLike his companions the captain was dressed in sea-clothes covered by\nan oil-skin coat, and with a woolen cap which could be pulled down to\ncover his head entirely, when he so desired.\n\nNeed I add that the captain of the \"Terror\" was the other of the two\nmen, who had watched my house in Long street. Moreover, if I\nrecognized him, he also must recognize me as chief-inspector Strock,\nto whom had been assigned the task of penetrating the Great Eyrie.\n\nI looked at him curiously. On his part, while he did not seek to\navoid my eyes, he showed at least a singular indifference to the fact\nthat he had a stranger on board.\n\nAs I watched him, the idea came to me, a suggestion which I had not\nconnected with the first view of him in Washington, that I had\nalready seen this characteristic figure. Was it in one of the\nphotographs held in the police department, or was it merely a picture\nin some shop window? But the remembrance was very vague. Perhaps I\nmerely imagined it.\n\nWell, though his companions had not had the politeness to answer me,\nperhaps he would be more courteous. He spoke the same language as I,\nalthough I could not feel quite positive that he was of American\nbirth. He might indeed have decided to pretend not to understand me,\nso as to avoid all discussion while he held me prisoner.\n\nIn that case, what did he mean to do with me? Did he intend to\ndispose of me without further ceremony? Was he only waiting for night\nto throw me overboard? Did even the little which I knew of him, make\nme a danger of which he must rid himself? But in that case, he might\nbetter have left me at the end of his anchor line. That would have\nsaved him the necessity of drowning me over again.\n\nI turned, I walked to the stern, I stopped full in front of him.\nThen, at length, he fixed full upon me a glance that burned like a\nflame.\n\n\"Are you the captain?\" I asked.\n\nHe was silent.\n\n\"This boat! Is it really the \'Terror?\'\"\n\nTo this question also there was no response. Then I reached toward\nhim; I would have taken hold of his arm.\n\nHe repelled me without violence, but with a movement that suggested\ntremendous restrained power.\n\nPlanting myself again before him, I demanded in a louder tone, \"What\ndo you mean to do with me?\"\n\nWords seemed almost ready to burst from his lips, which he compressed\nwith visible irritation. As though to check his speech he turned his\nhead aside. His hand touched a regulator of some sort, and the\nmachine rapidly increased its speed.\n\nAnger almost mastered me. I wanted to cry out \"So be it! Keep your\nsilence! I know who you are, just as I know your machine, recognized\nat Madison, at Boston, at Lake Kirdall. Yes; it is you, who have\nrushed so recklessly over our roads, our seas and our lakes! Your\nboat is the \'Terror\' and you her commander, wrote that letter to the\ngovernment. It is you who fancy you can fight the entire world. You,\nwho call yourself the Master of the World!\"\n\nAnd how could he have denied it! I saw at that moment the famous\ninitials inscribed upon the helm!\n\nFortunately I restrained myself; and despairing of getting any\nresponse to my questions, I returned to my seat near the hatchway of\nmy cabin.\n\nFor long hours, I patiently watched the horizon in the hope that land\nwould soon appear. Yes, I sat waiting! For I was reduced to that!\nWaiting! No doubt, before the day closed, the \"Terror\" must reach the\nend of Lake Erie, since she continued her course steadily to the\nnortheast.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 14\n\nNIAGARA\n\n\nThe hours passed, and the situation did not change. The steersman\nreturned on deck, and the captain, descending, watched the movement\nof the engines. Even when our speed increased, these engines\ncontinued working without noise, and with remarkable smoothness There\nwas never one of those inevitable breaks, with which in most motors\nthe pistons sometimes miss a stroke. I concluded that the \"Terror,\"\nin each of its transformations must be worked by rotary engines. But\nI could not assure myself of this.\n\nFor the rest, our direction did not change. Always we headed toward\nthe northeast end of the lake, and hence toward Buffalo.\n\nWhy, I wondered, did the captain persist in following this route? He\ncould not intend to stop at Buffalo, in the midst of a crowd of boats\nand shipping of every kind. If he meant to leave the lake by water,\nthere was only the Niagara River to follow; and its Falls would be\nimpassable, even to such a machine as this. The only escape was by\nthe Detroit River, and the \"Terror\" was constantly leaving that\nfarther behind.\n\nThen another idea occurred to me. Perhaps the captain was only\nwaiting for night to return to the shore of the lake. There, the\nboat, changed to an automobile, would quickly cross the neighboring\nStates. If I did not succeed in making my escape, during this passage\nacross the land, all hope of regaining my liberty would be gone.\n\nTrue, I might learn where this Master of the World hid himself. I\nmight learn what no one had yet been able to discover, assuming\nalways that he did not dispose of me at one time or another--and what\nI expected his \"disposal\" would be, is easily comprehended.\n\nI knew the northeast end of Lake Erie well, having often visited that\nsection of New York State which extends westward from Albany to\nBuffalo. Three years before, a police mission had led me to explore\ncarefully the shores of the Niagara River, both above and below the\ncataract and its Suspension Bridge. I had visited the two principal\nislands between Buffalo and the little city of Niagara Falls, I had\nexplored Navy Island and also Goat Island, which separates the\nAmerican falls from those of the Canadian side.\n\nThus if an opportunity for flight presented itself, I should not find\nmyself in an unknown district. But would this chance offer? And at\nheart, did I desire it, or would I seize upon it? What secrets still\nremained in this affair in which good fortune or was it evil\nfortune--had so closely entangled me!\n\nOn the other hand, I saw no real reason to suppose that there was any\nchance of my reaching the shores of the Niagara River. The \"Terror\"\nwould surely not venture into this trap which had no exit. Probably\nshe would not even go to the extremity of the lake.\n\nSuch were the thoughts that spun through my excited brain, while my\neyes remained fixed upon the empty horizon.\n\nAnd always one persistent question remained insolvable. Why had the\ncaptain written to me personally that threatening letter? Why had he\nspied upon me in Washington? What bond attached him to the Great\nEyrie? There might indeed be subterranean canals which gave him\npassage to Lake Kirdall, but could he pierce the impenetrable\nfortress of the Eyrie? No! That was beyond him!\n\nToward four o\'clock in the afternoon, reckoning by the speed of the\n\"Terror\" and her direction, I knew we must be approaching Buffalo;\nand indeed, its outlines began to show some fifteen miles ahead.\nDuring our passage, a few boats had been seen, but we had passed them\nat a long distance, a distance which our captain could easily keep as\ngreat as he pleased. Moreover, the \"Terror\" lay so low upon the\nwater, that at even a mile away it would have been difficult to\ndiscover her.\n\nNow, however, the hills encircling the end of Lake Erie, came within\nvision, beyond Buffalo, forming the sort of funnel by which Lake Erie\npours its waters into the channel of the Niagara river. Some dunes\nrose on the right, groups of trees stood out here and there. In the\ndistance, several freight steamers and fishing smacks appeared. The\nsky became spotted with trails of smoke, which were swept along by a\nlight eastern breeze.\n\nWhat was our captain thinking of in still heading toward the port of\nBuffalo! Did not prudence forbid him to venture further? At each\nmoment, I expected that he would give a sweep of the helm and turn\naway toward the western shore of the lake. Or else, I thought, he\nwould prepare to plunge beneath the surface. But this persistence in\nholding our bow toward Buffalo was impossible to understand!\n\nAt length the helmsman, whose eyes were watching the northeastern\nshore, made a sign to his companion. The latter, leaving the bow,\nwent to the central hatchway, and descended into the engine room.\nAlmost immediately the captain came on deck, and joining the\nhelmsman, spoke with him in a low voice.\n\nThe latter, extending his hand toward Buffalo, pointed out two black\nspots, which showed five or six miles distant on the starboard side.\nThe captain studied them attentively. Then shrugging his shoulders,\nhe seated himself at the stern without altering the course of the\n\"Terror.\"\n\nA quarter of an hour later, I could see plainly that there were two\nsmoke clouds at the point they had studied so carefully. Little by\nlittle the black spots beneath these became more defined. They were\ntwo long, low steamers, which, coming from the port of Buffalo, were\napproaching rapidly.\n\nSuddenly it struck me that these were the two torpedo destroyers of\nwhich Mr. Ward had spoken, and which I had been told to summon in\ncase of need.\n\nThese destroyers were of the newest type, the swiftest boats yet\nconstructed in the country. Driven by powerful engines of the latest\nmake, they had covered almost thirty miles an hour. It is true, the\n\"Terror\" commanded an even greater speed, and always, if she were\nsurrounded so that flight was impossible, she could submerge herself\nout of reach of all pursuit. In truth, the destroyers would have had\nto be submarines to attack the \"Terror\" with any chance of success.\nAnd I know not, if even in that case, the contest would have been\nequal.\n\nMeanwhile, it seemed to me evident that the commanders of the two\nships had been warned, perhaps by Mr. Wells who, returning swiftly to\nToledo, might have telegraphed to them the news of our defeat. It\nappeared, moreover, that they had seen the \"Terror,\" for they were\nheaded at full speed toward her. Yet our captain, seemingly giving\nthem no thought whatever, continued his course toward the Niagara\nRiver.\n\nWhat would the torpedo destroyers do? Presumably, they would maneuver\nso as to seek to shut the \"Terror\" within the narrowing end of the\nlake where the Niagara offered her no passage.\n\nOur captain now took the helm. One of the men was at the bow, the\nother in the engine room. Would the order be given for me to go down\ninto the cabin?\n\nIt was not, to my extreme satisfaction. To speak frankly, no one paid\nany attention to me. It was as if I had not been on board. I watched,\ntherefore, not without mixed emotions, the approach of the\ndestroyers. Less than two miles distant now they separated in such a\nway as to hold the \"Terror\" between their fires.\n\nAs to the Master of the World, his manner indicated only the most\nprofound disdain. He seemed sure that these destroyers were powerless\nagainst him. With a touch to his machinery he could distance them, no\nmatter what their speed! With a few turns of her engine, the \"Terror\"\nwould dart beyond their cannon shots! Or, in the depths of the lake,\nwhat projectiles could find the submarine?\n\nFive minutes later, scarcely a mile separated us from the two\npowerful fighters which pursued us. Our captain permitted them to\napproach still closer. Then he pressed upon a handle. The \"Terror,\"\ndoubling the action of her propellers, leaped across the surface of\nthe lake. She played with the destroyers! Instead of turning in\nflight, she continued her forward course. Who knew if she would not\neven have the audacity to pass between her two enemies, to coax them\nafter her, until the hour when, as night closed in, they would be\nforced to abandon the useless pursuit!\n\nThe city of Buffalo was now in plain view on the border of the lake.\nI saw its huge buildings, its church towers, its grain elevators.\nOnly four or five miles ahead, Niagara river opened to the northward.\n\nUnder these new conditions which way should I turn? When we passed in\nfront of the destroyers, or perhaps between them, should I not throw\nmyself into the waters I was a good swimmer, and such a chance might\nnever occur again. The captain could not stop to recapture me. By\ndiving could I not easily escape, even from a bullet? I should surely\nbe seen by one or other of the pursuers. Perhaps, even, their\ncommanders had been warned of my presence on board the \"Terror.\"\nWould not a boat be sent to rescue me?\n\nEvidently my chance of success would be even greater, if the \"Terror\"\nentered the narrow waters of Niagara River. At Navy Island I would be\nable to set foot on territory that I knew well. But to suppose that\nour captain would rush into this river where he might be swept over\nthe great cataract! That seemed impossible! I resolved to await the\ndestroyers\' closest approach and at the last moment I would decide.\n\nYet my resolution to escape was but half-hearted. I could not resign\nmyself thus to lose all chance of following up this mystery. My\ninstincts as a police official revolted. I had but to reach out my\nhand in order to seize this man who had been outlawed! Should I let\nhim escape me! No! I would not save myself! Yet, on the other hand,\nwhat fate awaited me, and where would I be carried by the \"Terror,\"\nif I remained on board?\n\nIt was a quarter past six. The destroyers, quivering and trembling\nunder the strain of their speed, gained on us perceptibly. They were\nnow directly astern, leaving between them a distance of twelve or\nfifteen cable lengths. The \"Terror,\" without increasing her speed,\nsaw one of them approach on the port side, the other to starboard.\n\nI did not leave my place. The man at the bow was close by me.\nImmovable at the helm, his eyes burning beneath his contracted brows,\nthe captain waited. He meant, perhaps, to finish the chase by one\nlast maneuver.\n\nSuddenly, a puff of smoke rose from the destroyer on our left. A\nprojectile, brushing the surface of the water, passed in front of the\n\"Terror,\" and sped beyond the destroyer on our right.\n\nI glanced around anxiously. Standing by my side, the lookout seemed\nto await a sign from the captain. As for him, he did not even turn\nhis head; and I shall never forget the expression of disdain\nimprinted on his visage.\n\nAt this moment, I was pushed suddenly toward the hatchway of my\ncabin, which was fastened above me. At the same instant the other\nhatchways were closed; the deck became watertight. I heard a single\nthrob of the machinery, and the plunge was made, the submarine\ndisappeared beneath the waters of the lake.\n\nCannon shot still boomed above us. Their heavy echo reached my ear;\nthen everything was peace. Only a faint light penetrated through the\nporthole into my cabin. The submarine, without the least rolling or\npitching, sped silently through the deeps.\n\nI had seen with what rapidity, and also with what ease the\ntransformation of the \"Terror\" had been made. No less easy and rapid,\nperhaps, would be her change to an automobile.\n\nAnd now what would this Master of the World do? Presumably he would\nchange his course, unless, indeed, he preferred to speed to land, and\nthere continue his route along the roads. It still seemed more\nprobable, however, that he would turn back toward the west, and after\ndistancing the destroyers, regain the Detroit River. Our submersion\nwould probably only last long enough to escape out of cannon range,\nor until night forbade pursuit.\n\nFate, however, had decreed a different ending to this exciting chase.\nScarce ten minutes had passed when there seemed some confusion on\nboard. I heard rapid words exchanged in the engine room. The steadily\nmoving machinery became noisy and irregular. At once I suspected that\nsome accident compelled the submarine to reascend.\n\nI was not mistaken. In a moment, the semi-obscurity of my cabin was\npierced by sunshine. The \"Terror\" had risen above water. I heard\nsteps on the deck, and the hatchways were re-opened, including mine.\nI sprang up the ladder.\n\nThe captain had resumed his place at the helm, while the two men were\nbusy below. I looked to see if the destroyers were still in view.\nYes! Only a quarter of a mile away! The \"Terror\" had already been\nseen, and the powerful vessels which enforced the mandates of our\ngovernment were swinging into position to give chase. Once more the\n\"Terror\" sped in the direction of Niagara River.\n\nI must confess, I could make nothing of this maneuver. Plunging into\na cul-de-sac, no longer able to seek the depths because of the\naccident, the \"Terror\" might, indeed, temporarily distance her\npursuers; but she must find her path barred by them when she\nattempted to return. Did she intend to land, and if so, could she\nhope to outrun the telegrams which would warn every police agency of\nher approach?\n\nWe were now not half a mile ahead. The destroyers pursued us at top\nspeed, though being now directly behind, they were in poor position\nfor using their guns. Our captain seemed content to keep this\ndistance; though it would have been easy for him to increase it, and\nthen at nightfall, to dodge back behind the enemy.\n\nAlready Buffalo had disappeared on our right, and a little after\nseven o\'clock the opening of the Niagara River appeared ahead. If he\nentered there, knowing that he could not return, our captain must\nhave lost his mind! And in truth was he not insane, this man who\nproclaimed himself, who believed himself, Master of the World?\n\nI watched him there, calm, impassive not even turning his head to\nnote the progress of the destroyers and I wondered at him.\n\nThis end of the lake was absolutely deserted. Freight steamers bound\nfor the towns on the banks of the upper Niagara are not numerous, as\nits navigation is dangerous. Not one was in sight. Not even a\nfishing-boat crossed the path of the \"Terror.\" Even the two\ndestroyers would soon be obliged to pause in their pursuit, if we\ncontinued our mad rush through these dangerous waters.\n\nI have said that the Niagara River flows between New York and Canada.\nIts width, of about three quarters of a mile, narrows as it\napproaches the falls. Its length, from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario, is\nabout fifteen leagues. It flows in a northerly direction, until it\nempties the waters of Lake Superior, Michigan, Huron, and Erie into\nOntario, the last lake of this mighty chain. The celebrated falls,\nwhich occur in the midst of this great river have a height of over a\nhundred and fifty feet. They are called sometimes the Horse-shoe\nFalls, because they curve inward like the iron shoe. The Indians have\ngiven them the name of \"Thunder of Waters,\" and in truth a mighty\nthunder roars from them without cessation, and with a tumult which is\nheard for several miles away.\n\nBetween Lake Erie, and the little city of Niagara Falls, two islands\ndivide the current of the river, Navy Island, a league above the\ncataract, and Goat Island, which separates the American and the\nCanadian Falls. Indeed, on the lower point of this latter isle stood\nonce that \"Terrapin Tower\" so daringly built in the midst of the\nplunging waters on the very edge of the abyss. It has been destroyed;\nfor the constant wearing away of the stone beneath the cataract makes\nthe ledge move with the ages slowly up the river, and the tower has\nbeen drawn into the gulf.\n\nThe town of Fort Erie stands on the Canadian shore at the entrance of\nthe river. Two other towns are set along the banks above the falls,\nSchlosser on the right bank, and Chippewa on the left, located on\neither side of Navy Island. It is at this point that the current,\nbound within a narrower channel, begins to move at tremendous speed,\nto become two miles further on, the celebrated cataract.\n\nThe \"Terror\" had already passed Fort Erie. The sun in the west\ntouched the edge of the Canadian horizon, and the moon, faintly seen,\nrose above the mists of the south. Darkness would not envelop us for\nanother hour.\n\nThe destroyers, with huge clouds of smoke streaming from their\nfunnels, followed us a mile behind. They sped between banks green\nwith shade trees and dotted with cottages which lay among lovely\ngardens.\n\nObviously the \"Terror\" could no longer turn back. The destroyers shut\nher in completely. It is true their commanders did not know, as I\ndid, that an accident to her machinery had forced her to the surface,\nand that it was impossible for her to escape them by another plunge.\nNevertheless, they continued to follow, and would assuredly maintain\ntheir pursuit to the very last.\n\nI marveled at the intrepidity of their chase through these dangerous\nwaters. I marveled still more at the conduct of our captain. Within a\nhalf hour now, his course would be barred by the cataract. No matter\nhow perfect his machine, it could not escape the power of the great\nfalls. If the current once mastered our engines, we should inevitably\ndisappear in the gulf nearly two hundred feet deep which the waters\nhave dug at the base of the falls! Perhaps, however, our captain had\nstill power to turn to one of the shores and flee by the automobile\nroutes.\n\nIn the midst of this excitement, what action should I take\npersonally? Should I attempt to gain the shores of Navy Island, if we\nindeed advanced that far? If I did not seize this chance, never after\nwhat I had learned of his secrets, never would the Master of the\nWorld restore me to liberty.\n\nI suspected, however, that my flight was no longer possible. If I was\nnot confined within my cabin, I no longer remained unwatched. While\nthe captain retained his place at the helm, his assistant by my side\nnever removed his eyes from me. At the first movement, I should be\nseized and locked within my room. For the present, my fate was\nevidently bound up with that of the \"Terror.\"\n\nThe distance which separated us from the two destroyers was now\ngrowing rapidly less. Soon they were but a few cable-lengths away.\nCould the motor of the \"Terror,\" since the accident, no longer hold\nits speeds? Yet the captain showed not the least anxiety, and made no\neffort to reach land!\n\nWe could hear the hissing of the steam which escaped from the valves\nof the destroyers, to mingle with the streamers of black smoke. But\nwe heard, even more plainly, the roar of the cataract, now less than\nthree miles away.\n\nThe \"Terror\" took the left branch of the river in passing Navy\nIsland. At this point, she was within easy reach of the shore, yet\nshe shot ahead. Five minutes later, we could see the first trees of\nGoat Island. The current became more and more irresistible. If the\n\"Terror\" did not stop, the destroyers could not much longer follow\nher. If it pleased our accursed captain to plunge us into the vortex\nof the falls, surely they did not mean to follow into the abyss!\n\nIndeed, at this moment they signaled each other, and stopped the\npursuit. They were scarce more than six hundred feet from the\ncataract. Then their thunders burst on the air and several cannon\nshot swept over the \"Terror\" without hitting its low-lying deck.\n\nThe sun had set, and through the twilight the moon\'s rays shone upon\nus from the south. The speed of our craft, doubled by the speed of\nthe current, was prodigious! In another moment, we should plunge into\nthat black hollow which forms the very center of the Canadian Falls.\n\nWith an eye of horror, I saw the shores of Goat Island flashed by,\nthen came the Isles of the Three Sisters, drowned in the spray from\nthe abyss.\n\nI sprang up; I started to throw myself into the water, in the\ndesperate hope of gaining this last refuge. One of the men seized me\nfrom behind.\n\nSuddenly a sharp noise was heard from the mechanism which throbbed\nwithin our craft. The long gangways folded back on the sides of the\nmachine, spread out like wings, and at the moment when the \"Terror\"\nreached the very edge of the falls, she arose into space, escaping\nfrom the thundering cataract in the center of a lunar rainbow.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 15\n\nTHE EAGLE\'S NEST\n\n\nOn the morrow, when I awoke after a sound sleep, our vehicle seemed\nmotionless. It seemed to me evident that we were not running upon\nland. Yet neither were we rushing through or beneath the waters; nor\nyet soaring across the sky. Had the inventor regained that mysterious\nhiding-place of his, where no human being had ever set foot before\nhim?\n\nAnd now, since he had not disembarrassed himself of my presence, was\nhis secret about to be revealed to me?\n\nIt seemed astonishing that I had slept so profoundly during most of\nour voyage through the air. It puzzled me and I asked if this sleep\nhad not been caused by some drug, mixed with my last meal, the\ncaptain of the \"Terror\" having wished thus to prevent me from knowing\nthe place where we landed. All that I can recall of the previous\nnight is the terrible impression made upon me by that moment when the\nmachine, instead of being caught in the vortex of the cataract rose\nunder the impulse of its machinery like a bird with its huge wings\nbeating with tremendous power!\n\nSo this machine actually fulfilled a four-fold use! It was at the\nsame time automobile, boat, submarine, and airship. Earth, sea and\nair,--it could move through all three elements! And with what\npower! With what speed! Al few instants sufficed to complete its\nmarvelous transformations. The same engine drove it along all its\ncourses! And I had been a witness of its metamorphoses! But that of\nwhich I was still ignorant, and which I could perhaps discover, was\nthe source of the energy which drove the machine, and above all, who\nwas the inspired inventor who, after having created it, in every\ndetail, guided it with so much ability and audacity!\n\nAt the moment when the \"Terror\" rose above the Canadian Falls, I was\nheld down against the hatchway of my cabin. The clear, moonlit\nevening had permitted me to note the direction taken by the air-ship.\nIt followed the course of the river and passed the Suspension Bridge\nthree miles below the falls. It is here that the irresistible rapids\nof the Niagara River begin, where the river bends sharply to descend\ntoward Lake Ontario.\n\nOn leaving this point, I was sure that we had turned toward the east.\nThe captain continued at the helm. I had not addressed a word to him.\nWhat good would it do? He would not have answered. I noted that the\n\"Terror\" seemed to be guided in its course through the air with\nsurprising ease. Assuredly the roads of the air were as familiar to\nit as those of the seas and of the lands!\n\nIn the presence of such results, could one not understand the\nenormous pride of this man who proclaimed himself Master of the\nWorld? Was he not in control of a machine infinitely superior to any\nthat had ever sprung from the hand of man, and against which men were\npowerless? In truth, why should he sell this marvel? Why should he\naccept the millions offered him? Yes, I comprehended now that\nabsolute confidence in himself which was expressed in his every\nattitude. And where might not his ambition carry him, if by its own\nexcess it mounted some day into madness!\n\nA half hour after the \"Terror\" soared into the air, I had sunk into\ncomplete unconsciousness, without realizing its approach. I repeat,\nit must have been caused by some drug. Without doubt, our commander\ndid not wish me to know the road he followed.\n\nHence I cannot say whether the aviator continued his flight through\nspace, or whether the mariner sailed the surface of some sea or lake,\nor the chauffeur sped across the American roads. No recollection\nremains with me of what passed during that night of July thirty-first.\n\nNow, what was to follow from this adventure? And especially\nconcerning myself, what would be its end?\n\nI have said that at the moment when I awoke from my strange sleep,\nthe \"Terror\" seemed to me completely motionless. I could hardly be\nmistaken; whatever had been her method of progress, I should have\nfelt some movement, even in the air. I lay in my berth in the cabin,\nwhere I had been shut in without knowing it, just as I had been on\nthe preceding night which I had passed on board the \"Terror\" on Lake\nErie.\n\nMy business now was to learn if I would be allowed to go on deck here\nwhere the machine had landed. I attempted to raise the hatchway. It\nwas fastened.\n\n\"Ah!\" said I, \"am I to be kept here until the \'Terror\' recommences\nits travels?\" Was not that, indeed, the only time when escape was\nhopeless?\n\nMy impatience and anxiety may be appreciated. I knew not how long\nthis halt might continue.\n\nI had not a quarter of an hour to wait. A noise of bars being removed\ncame to my ear. The hatchway was raised from above. A wave of light\nand air penetrated my cabin.\n\nWith one bound I reached the deck. My eyes in an instant swept round\nthe horizon.\n\nThe \"Terror,\" as I had thought, rested quiet on the ground. She was\nin the midst of a rocky hollow measuring from fifteen to eighteen\nhundred feet in circumference. A floor of yellow gravel carpeted its\nentire extent, unrelieved by a single tuft of herbage.\n\nThis hollow formed an almost regular oval, with its longer diameter\nextending north and south. As to the surrounding-wall, what was its\nheight, what the character of its crest, I could not judge. Above us\nwas gathered a fog so heavy, that the rays of the sun had not yet\npierced it. Heavy trails of cloud drifted across the sandy floor,\nDoubtless the morning was still young, and this mist might later be\ndissolved.\n\nIt was quite cold here, although this was the first day of August. I\nconcluded therefore that we must be far in the north, or else high\nabove sea-level. We must still be somewhere on the New Continent;\nthough where, it was impossible to surmise. Yet no matter how rapid\nour flight had been, the air-ship could not have traversed either\nocean in the dozen hours since our departure from Niagara.\n\nAt this moment, I saw the captain come from an opening in the rocks,\nprobably a grotto, at the base of this cliff hidden in the fog.\nOccasionally, in the mists above, appeared the shadows of huge birds.\nTheir raucous cries were the sole interruption to the profound\nsilence. Who knows if they were not affrighted by the arrival of this\nformidable, winged monster, which they could not match either in\nmight or speed.\n\nEverything led me to believe that it was here that the Master of the\nWorld withdrew in the intervals between his prodigious journeys. Here\nwas the garage of his automobile; the harbor of his boat; the hangar\nof his air-ship.\n\nAnd now the \"Terror\" stood motionless at the bottom of this hollow.\nAt last I could examine her; and it looked as if her owners had no\nintention of preventing me. The truth is that the commander seemed to\ntake no more notice of my presence than before. His two companions\njoined him, and the three did not hesitate to enter together into the\ngrotto I had seen. What a chance to study the machine, at least its\nexterior! As to its inner parts, probably I should never get beyond\nconjecture.\n\nIn fact, except for that of my cabin, the hatchways were closed; and\nit would be vain for me to attempt to open them. At any rate, it\nmight be more interesting to find out what kind of propeller drove\nthe \"Terror\" in these many transformations.\n\nI jumped to the ground and found I was left at leisure, to proceed\nwith this first examination.\n\nThe machine was as I have said spindle-shaped. The bow was sharper\nthan the stern. The body was of aluminium, the wings of a substance\nwhose nature I could not determine. The body rested on four wheels,\nabout two feet in diameter. These had pneumatic tires so thick as to\nassure ease of movement at any speed. Their spokes spread out like\npaddles or battledores; and when the \"Terror\" moved either on or\nunder the water, they must have increased her pace.\n\nThese wheels were not however, the principal propeller. This\nconsisted of two \"Parsons\" turbines placed on either side of the\nkeel. Driven with extreme rapidity by the engine, they urged the boat\nonward in the water by twin screws, and I even questioned if they\nwere not powerful enough to propel the machine through the air.\n\nThe chief aerial support, however, was that of the great wings, now\nagain in repose, and folded back along the sides. Thus the theory of\nthe \"heavier than air\" flying machine was employed by the inventor, a\nsystem which enabled him to dart through space with a speed probably\nsuperior to that of the largest birds.\n\nAs to the agent which set in action these various mechanisms, I\nrepeat, it was, it could be, no other than electricity. But from what\nsource did his batteries get their power? Had he somewhere an\nelectric factory, to which he must return? Were the dynamos, perhaps\nworking in one of the caverns of this hollow?\n\nThe result of my examination was that, while I could see that the\nmachine used wheels and turbine screws and wings, I knew nothing of\neither its engine, nor of the force which drove it. To be sure, the\ndiscovery of this secret would be of little value to me. To employ it\nI must first be free. And after what I knew--little as that really\nwas--the Master of the World would never release me.\n\nThere remained, it is true, the chance of escape. But would an\nopportunity ever present itself? If there could be none during the\nvoyages of the \"Terror,\" might there possibly be, while we remained\nin this retreat?\n\nThe first question to be solved was the location of this hollow. What\ncommunication did it have with the surrounding region? Could one only\ndepart from it by a flying-machine? And in what part of the United\nStates were we? Was it not reasonable to estimate, that our flight\nthrough the darkness had covered several hundred leagues?\n\nThere was one very natural hypothesis which deserved to be\nconsidered, if not actually accepted. What more natural harbor could\nthere be for the \"Terror\" than the Great Eyrie? Was it too difficult\na flight for our aviator to reach the summit? Could he not soar\nanywhere that the vultures and the eagles could? Did not that\ninaccessible Eyrie offer to the Master of the World just such a\nretreat as our police had been unable to discover, one in which he\nmight well believe himself safe from all attacks? Moreover, the\ndistance between Niagara Falls and this part of the Blueridge\nMountains, did not exceed four hundred and fifty miles, a flight\nwhich would have been easy for the \"Terror.\"\n\nYes, this idea more and more took possession of me. It crowded out a\nhundred other unsupported suggestions. Did not this explain the\nnature of the bond which existed between the Great Eyrie and the\nletter which I had received with our commander\'s initials? And the\nthreats against me if I renewed the ascent! And the espionage to\nwhich I had been subjected! And all the phenomena of which the Great\nEyrie had been the theater, were they not to be attributed to this\nsame cause--though what lay behind the phenomena was not yet clear?\nYes, the Great Eyrie! The Great Eyrie!\n\nBut since it had been impossible for me to penetrate here, would it\nnot be equally impossible for me to get out again, except upon the\n\"Terror?\" Ah, if the mists would but lift! Perhaps I should recognize\nthe place. What was as yet a mere hypothesis, would become a starting\npoint to act upon.\n\nHowever, since I had freedom to move about, since neither the captain\nnor his men paid any heed to me, I resolved to explore the hollow.\nThe three of them were all in the grotto toward the north end of the\noval. Therefore I would commence my inspection at the southern end.\n\nReaching the rocky wall, I skirted along its base and found it broken\nby many crevices; above, arose more solid rocks of that feldspar of\nwhich the chain of the Alleghanies largely consists. To what height\nthe rock wall rose, or what was the character of its summit, was\nstill impossible to see. I must wait until the sun had scattered the\nmists.\n\nIn the meantime, I continued to follow along the base of the cliff.\nNone of its cavities seemed to extend inward to any distance. Several\nof them contained debris from the hand of man, bits of broken wood,\nheaps of dried grasses. On the ground were still to be seen the\nfootprints that the captain and his men must have left, perhaps\nmonths before, upon the sand.\n\nMy jailers, being doubtless very busy in their cabin, did not show\nthemselves until they had arranged and packed several large bundles.\nDid they purpose to carry those on board the \"Terror?\" And were they\npacking up with the intention of permanently leaving their retreat?\n\nIn half an hour my explorations were completed and I returned toward\nthe center. Here and there were heaped up piles of ashes, bleached by\nweather. There were fragments of burned planks and beams; posts to\nwhich clung rusted iron-work; armatures of metal twisted by fire; all\nthe remnants of some intricate mechanism destroyed by the flames.\n\nClearly at some period not very remote the hollow had been the scene\nof a conflagration, accidental or intentional. Naturally I connected\nthis with the phenomena observed at the Great Eyrie, the flames which\nrose above the crest, the noises which had so frightened the people\nof Pleasant Garden and Morganton. But of what mechanisms were these\nthe fragments, and what reason had our captain for destroying them?\n\nAt this moment I felt a breath of air; a breeze came from the east.\nThe sky swiftly cleared. The hollow was filled with light from the\nrays of the sun which appeared midway between the horizon and the\nzenith.\n\nA cry escaped me! The crest of the rocky wall rose a hundred feet\nabove me. And on the eastern side was revealed that easily\nrecognizable pinnacle, the rock like a mounting eagle. It was the\nsame that had held the attention of Mr. Elias Smith and myself, when\nwe had looked up at it from the outer side of the Great Eyrie.\n\nThus there was no further doubt. In its flight during the night the\nairship had covered the distance between Lake Erie and North\nCarolina. It was in the depth of this Eyrie that the machine had\nfound shelter! This was the nest, worthy of the gigantic and powerful\nbird created by the genius of our captain! The fortress whose mighty\nwalls none but he could scale! Perhaps even, he had discovered in the\ndepths of some cavern, some subterranean passage by which he himself\ncould quit the Great Eyrie, leaving the \"Terror\" safely sheltered\nwithin.\n\nAt last I saw it all! This explained the first letter sent me from\nthe Great Eyrie itself with the threat of death. If we had been able\nto penetrate into this hollow, who knows if the secrets of the Master\nof the World might not have been discovered before he had been able\nto set them beyond our reach?\n\nI stood there, motionless; my eyes fixed on that mounting eagle of\nstone, prey to a sudden, violent emotion. Whatsoever might be the\nconsequences to myself, was it not my duty to destroy this machine,\nhere and now, before it could resume its menacing flight of mastery\nacross the world!\n\nSteps approached behind me. I turned. The inventor stood by my side,\nand pausing looked me in the face.\n\nI was unable to restrain myself; the words burst forth--\"The Great\nEyrie! The Great Eyrie!\"\n\n\"Yes, Inspector Strock.\"\n\n\"And you! You are the Master of the World?\"\n\n\"Of that world to which I have already proved myself to be the most\npowerful of men.\"\n\n\"You!\" I reiterated, stupefied with amazement.\n\n\"I,\" responded he, drawing himself up in all his pride, \"I,\nRobur--Robur, the Conqueror!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter 16\n\nROBUR, THE CONQUEROR\n\n\nRobur, the Conqueror! This then was the likeness I had vaguely\nrecalled. Some years before the portrait of this extraordinary man\nhad been printed in all the American newspapers, under date of the\nthirteenth of June, the day after this personage had made his\nsensational appearance at the meeting of the Weldon Institute at\nPhiladelphia.\n\nI had noted the striking character of the portrait at the time; the\nsquare shoulders; the back like a regular trapezoid, its longer side\nformed by that geometrical shoulder line; the robust neck; the\nenormous spheroidal head. The eyes at the least emotion, burned with\nfire, while above them were the heavy, permanently contracted brows,\nwhich signified such energy. The hair was short and crisp, with a\nglitter as of metal in its lights. The huge breast rose and fell like\na blacksmith\'s forge; and the thighs, the arms and hands, were worthy\nof the mighty body. The narrow beard was the same also, with the\nsmooth shaven cheeks which showed the powerful muscles of the jaw.\n\nAnd this was Robur the Conqueror, who now stood before me, who\nrevealed himself to me, hurling forth his name like a threat, within\nhis own impenetrable fortress!\n\nLet me recall briefly the facts which had previously drawn upon Robur\nthe Conqueror the attention of the entire world. The Weldon Institute\nwas a club devoted to aeronautics under the presidency of one of the\nchief personages of Philadelphia, commonly called Uncle Prudent. Its\nsecretary was Mr. Phillip Evans. The members of the Institute were\ndevoted to the theory of the \"lighter than air\" machine; and under\ntheir two leaders were constructing an enormous dirigible balloon,\nthe \"Go-Ahead.\"\n\nAt a meeting in which they were discussing the details of the\nconstruction of their balloon, this unknown Robur had suddenly\nappeared and, ridiculing all their plans, had insisted that the only\ntrue solution of flight lay with the heavier than air machines, and\nthat he had proven this by constructing one.\n\nHe was in this turn doubted and ridiculed by the members of the club,\nwho called him in mockery Robur the Conqueror. In the tumult that\nfollowed, revolver shots were fired; and the intruder disappeared.\n\nThat same night he had by force abducted the president and the\nsecretary of the club, and had taken them, much against their will\nupon a voyage in the wonderful air-ship, the \"Albatross,\" which he\nhad constructed. He meant thus to prove to them beyond argument the\ncorrectness of his assertions. This ship, a hundred feet long, was\nupheld in the air by a large number of horizontal screws and was\ndriven forward by vertical screws at its bow and stern. It was\nmanaged by a crew of at least half a dozen men, who seemed absolutely\ndevoted to their leader, Robur.\n\nAfter a voyage almost completely around the world, Mr. Prudent and\nMr. Evans managed to escape from the \"Albatross\" after a desperate\nstruggle. They even managed to cause an explosion on the airship,\ndestroying it, and involving the inventor and all his crew in a\nterrific fall from the sky into the Pacific ocean.\n\nMr. Prudent and Mr. Evans then returned to Philadelphia. They had\nlearned that the \"Albatross\" had been constructed on an unknown isle\nof the Pacific called Island X; but since the location of this\nhiding-place was wholly unknown, its discovery lay scarcely within\nthe bounds of possibility. Moreover, the search seemed entirely\nunnecessary, as the vengeful prisoners were quite certain that they\nhad destroyed their jailers.\n\nHence the two millionaires, restored to their homes, went calmly on\nwith the construction of their own machine, the \"Go-Ahead.\" They\nhoped by means of it to soar once more into the regions they had\ntraversed with Robur, and to prove to themselves that their lighter\nthan air machine was at least the equal of the heavy \"Albatross.\" If\nthey had not persisted, they would not have been true Americans.\n\nOn the twentieth of April in the following year the \"Go-Ahead\" was\nfinished and the ascent was made, from Fairmount Park in\nPhiladelphia. I myself was there with thousands of other spectators.\nWe saw the huge balloon rise gracefully; and, thanks to its powerful\nscrews, it maneuvered in every direction with surprising ease.\nSuddenly a cry was heard, a cry repeated from a thousand throats.\nAnother airship had appeared in the distant skies and it now\napproached with marvelous rapidity. It was another \"Albatross,\"\nperhaps even superior to the first. Robur and his men had escaped\ndeath in the Pacific; and, burning for revenge, they had constructed\na second airship in their secret Island X.\n\nLike a gigantic bird of prey, the \"Albatross\" hurled itself upon the\n\"Go-Ahead.\" Doubtless, Robur, while avenging himself wished also to\nprove the immeasurable superiority of the heavier than air machines.\n\nMr. Prudent and Mr. Evans defended themselves as best they could.\nKnowing that their balloon had nothing like the horizontal speed of\nthe \"Albatross,\" they attempted to take advantage of their superior\nlightness and rise above her. The \"Go-Ahead,\" throwing out all her\nballast, soared to a height of over twenty thousand feet. Yet even\nthere the \"Albatross\" rose above her, and circled round her with ease.\n\nSuddenly an explosion was heard. The enormous gas-bag of the\n\"Go-Ahead,\" expanding under the dilation of its contents at this\ngreat height, had finally burst.\n\nHalf-emptied, the balloon fell rapidly.\n\nThen to our universal astonishment, the \"Albatross\" shot down after\nher rival, not to finish the work of destruction but to bring rescue.\nYes! Robur, forgetting his vengeance, rejoined the sinking\n\"Go-Ahead,\" and his men lifted Mr. Prudent, Mr. Evans, and the\naeronaut who accompanied them, onto the platform of his craft. Then\nthe balloon, being at length entirely empty, fell to its destruction\namong the trees of Fairmount Park.\n\nThe public was overwhelmed with astonishment, with fear! Now that\nRobur had recaptured his prisoners, how would he avenge himself?\nWould they be carried away, this time, forever?\n\nThe \"Albatross\" continued to descend, as if to land in the clearing\nat Fairmount Park. But if it came within reach, would not the\ninfuriated crowd throw themselves upon the airship, tearing both it\nand its inventor to pieces?\n\nThe \"Albatross\" descended within six feet of the ground. I remember\nwell the general movement forward with which the crowd threatened to\nattack it. Then Robur\'s voice rang out in words which even now I can\nrepeat almost as he said them:\n\n\"Citizens of the United States, the president and the secretary of\nthe Weldon Institute are again in my power. In holding them prisoners\nI would but be exercising my natural right of reprisal for the\ninjuries they have done me. But the passion and resentment which have\nbeen roused both in them and you by the success of the \'Albatross,\'\nshow that the souls of men are not yet ready for the vast increase of\npower which the conquest of the air will bring to them. Uncle\nPrudent, Phillip Evans, you are free.\"\n\nThe three men rescued from the balloon leaped to the ground. The\nairship rose some thirty feet out of reach, and Robur recommenced:\n\n\"Citizens of the United States, the conquest of the air is made; but\nit shall not be given into your hands until the proper time. I leave,\nand I carry my secret with me. It will not be lost to humanity, but\nshall be entrusted to them when they have learned not to abuse it.\nFarewell, Citizens of the United States!\"\n\nThen the \"Albatross\" rose under the impulse of its mighty screws, and\nsped away amidst the hurrahs of the multitude.\n\nI have ventured to remind my readers of this last scene somewhat in\ndetail, because it seemed to reveal the state of mind of the\nremarkable personage who now stood before me. Apparently he had not\nthen been animated by sentiments hostile to humanity. He was content\nto await the future; though his attitude undeniably revealed the\nimmeasurable confidence which he had in his own genius, the immense\npride which his almost superhuman powers had aroused within him.\n\nIt was not astonishing, moreover, that this haughtiness had little by\nlittle been aggravated to such a degree that he now presumed to\nenslave the entire world, as his public letter had suggested by its\nsignificant threats. His vehement mind had with time been roused to\nsuch over-excitement that he might easily be driven into the most\nviolent excesses.\n\nAs to what had happened in the years since the last departure of the\n\"Albatross,\" I could only partly reconstruct this even with my\npresent knowledge. It had not sufficed the prodigious inventor to\ncreate a flying machine, perfect as that was! He had planned to\nconstruct a machine which could conquer all the elements at once.\nProbably in the workshops of Island X, a selected body of devoted\nworkmen had constructed, one by one, the pieces of this marvelous\nmachine, with its quadruple transformation. Then the second\n\"Albatross\" must have carried these pieces to the Great Eyrie, where\nthey had been put together, within easier access of the world of men\nthan the far-off island had permitted. The \"Albatross\" itself had\napparently been destroyed, whether by accident or design, within the\neyrie. The \"Terror\" had then made its appearance on the roads of the\nUnited States and in the neighboring waters. And I have told under\nwhat conditions, after having been vainly pursued across Lake Erie,\nthis remarkable masterpiece had risen through the air carrying me a\nprisoner on board.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 17\n\nIN THE NAME OF THE LAW\n\n\nWhat was to be the issue of this remarkable adventure? Could I bring\nit to any denouement whatever, either sooner or later? Did not Robur\nhold the results wholly in his own hands? Probably I would never have\nsuch an opportunity for escape as had occurred to Mr. Prudent and Mr.\nEvans amid the islands of the Pacific. I could only wait. And how\nlong might the waiting last!\n\nTo be sure, my curiosity had been partly satisfied. But even now I\nknew only the answer to the problems of the Great Eyrie. Having at\nlength penetrated its circle, I comprehended all the phenomena\nobserved by the people of the Blueridge Mountains. I was assured that\nneither the country-folk throughout the region, nor the townfolk of\nPleasant Garden and Morganton were in danger of volcanic eruptions or\nearthquakes. No subterranean forces whatever were battling within the\nbowels of the mountains. No crater had arisen in this corner of the\nAlleghanies. The Great Eyrie served merely as the retreat of Robur\nthe Conqueror. This impenetrable hiding-place where he stored his\nmaterials and provisions, had without doubt been discovered by him\nduring one of his aerial voyages in the \"Albatross.\" It was a retreat\nprobably even more secure than that as yet undiscovered Island X in\nthe Pacific.\n\nThis much I knew of him; but of this marvelous machine of his, of the\nsecrets of its construction and propelling force, what did I really\nknow? Admitting that this multiple mechanism was driven by\nelectricity, and that this electricity was, as we knew it had been in\nthe \"Albatross,\" extracted directly from the surrounding air by some\nnew process, what were the details of its mechanism? I had not been\npermitted to see the engine; doubtless I should never see it.\n\nOn the question of my liberty I argued thus: Robur evidently intends\nto remain unknown. As to what he intends to do with his machine, I\nfear, recalling his letter, that the world must expect from it more\nof evil than of good. At any rate, the incognito which he has so\ncarefully guarded in the past he must mean to preserve in the future.\nNow only one man can establish the identity of the Master of the\nWorld with Robur the Conqueror. This man is I his prisoner, I who\nhave the right to arrest him, I, who ought to put my hand on his\nshoulder, saying, \"In the Name of the Law--\"\n\nOn the other hand, could I hope for a rescue from with out? Evidently\nnot. The police authorities must know everything that had happened at\nBlack Rock Creek. Mr. Ward, advised of all the incidents, would have\nreasoned on the matter as follows: when the \"Terror\" quitted the\ncreek dragging me at the end of her hawser, I had either been drowned\nor, since my body had not been recovered, I had been taken on board\nthe \"Terror,\" and was in the hands of its commander.\n\nIn the first case, there was nothing more to do than to write\n\"deceased\" after the name of John Strock, chief inspector of the\nfederal police in Washington.\n\nIn the second case, could my confreres hope ever to see me again? The\ntwo destroyers which had pursued the \"Terror\" into the Niagara River\nhad stopped, perforce, when the current threatened to drag them over\nthe falls. At that moment, night was closing in, and what could be\nthought on board the destroyers but that the \"Terror\" had been\nengulfed in the abyss of the cataract? It was scarce possible that\nour machine had been seen when, amid the shades of night, it rose\nabove the Horseshoe Falls, or when it winged its way high above the\nmountains on its route to the Great Eyrie.\n\nWith regard to my own fate, should I resolve to question Robur? Would\nhe consent even to appear to hear me? Was he not content with having\nhurled at me his name? Would not that name seem to him to answer\neverything?\n\nThat day wore away without bringing the least change to the\nsituation. Robur and his men continued actively at work upon the\nmachine, which apparently needed considerable repair. I concluded\nthat they meant to start forth again very shortly, and to take me\nwith them. It would, however, have been quite possible to leave me at\nthe bottom of the Eyrie. There would have been no way by which I\ncould have escaped, and there were provisions at hand sufficient to\nkeep me alive for many days.\n\nWhat I studied particularly during this period was the mental state\nof Robur. He seemed to me under the dominance of a continuous\nexcitement. What was it that his ever-seething brain now meditated?\nWhat projects was he forming for the future? Toward what region would\nhe now turn? Would he put in execution the menaces expressed in his\nletter--the menaces of a madman!\n\nThe night of that first day, I slept on a couch of dry grass in one\nof the grottoes of the Great Eyrie. Food was set for me in this\ngrotto each succeeding day. On the second and third of August, the\nthree men continued at their work scarcely once, however, exchanging\nany words, even in the midst of their labors. When the engines were\nall repaired to Robur\'s satisfaction, the men began putting stores\naboard their craft, as if expecting a long absence. Perhaps the\n\"Terror\" was about to traverse immense distances; perhaps even, the\ncaptain intended to regain his Island X, in the midst of the Pacific.\n\nSometimes I saw him wander about the Eyrie buried in thought, or he\nwould stop and raise his arm toward heaven as if in defiance of that\nGod with Whom he assumed to divide the empire of the world. Was not\nhis overweening pride leading him toward insanity? An insanity which\nhis two companions, hardly less excited than he, could do nothing to\nsubdue! Had he not come to regard himself as mightier than the\nelements which he had so audaciously defied even when he possessed\nonly an airship, the \"Albatross?\" And now, how much more powerful had\nhe become, when earth, air and water combined to offer him an\ninfinite field where none might follow him!\n\nHence I had much to fear from the future, even the most dread\ncatastrophes. It was impossible for me to escape from the Great\nEyrie, before being dragged into a new voyage. After that, how could\nI possibly get away while the \"Terror\" sped through the air or the\nocean? My only chance must be when she crossed the land, and did so\nat some moderate speed. Surely a distant and feeble hope to cling to!\n\nIt will be recalled that after our arrival at the Great Eyrie, I had\nattempted to obtain some response from Robur, as to his purpose with\nme; but I had failed. On this last day I made another attempt.\n\nIn the afternoon I walked up and down before the large grotto where\nmy captors were at work. Robur, standing at the entrance, followed me\nsteadily with his eyes. Did he mean to address me?\n\nI went up to him. \"Captain,\" said I, \"I have already asked you a\nquestion, which you have not answered. I ask it again: What do you\nintend to do with me?\"\n\nWe stood face to face scarce two steps apart. With arms folded, he\nglared at me, and I was terrified by his glance. Terrified, that is\nthe word! The glance was not that of a sane man. Indeed, it seemed to\nreflect nothing whatever of humanity within.\n\nI repeated my question in a more challenging tone. For an instant I\nthought that Robur would break his silence and burst forth.\n\n\"What do you intend to do with me? Will you set me free?\"\n\nEvidently my captor\'s mind was obsessed by some other thought, from\nwhich I had only distracted him for a moment. He made again that\ngesture which I had already observed; he raised one defiant arm\ntoward the zenith. It seemed to me as if some irresistible force drew\nhim toward those upper zones of the sky, that he belonged no more to\nthe earth, that he was destined to live in space; a perpetual dweller\nin the clouds.\n\nWithout answering me, without seeming to have understood me, Robur\nreentered the grotto.\n\nHow long this sojourn or rather relaxation of the \"Terror\" in the\nGreat Eyrie was to last, I did not know. I saw, however, on the\nafternoon of this third of August that the repairs and the\nembarkation of stores were completed. The hold and lockers of our\ncraft must have been completely crowded with the provisions taken\nfrom the grottoes of the Eyrie.\n\nThen the chief of the two assistants, a man whom I now recognized as\nthat John Turner who had been mate of the \"Albatross,\" began another\nlabor. With the help of his companion, he dragged to the center of\nthe hollow all that remained of their materials, empty cases,\nfragments of carpentry, peculiar pieces of wood which clearly must\nhave belonged to the \"Albatross,\" which had been sacrificed to this\nnew and mightier engine of locomotion. Beneath this mass there lay a\ngreat quantity of dried grasses. The thought came to me that Robur\nwas preparing to leave this retreat forever!\n\nIn fact, he could not be ignorant that the attention of the public\nwas now keenly fixed upon the Great Eyrie; and that some further\nattempt was likely to be made to penetrate it. Must he not fear that\nsome day or other the effort would be successful, and that men would\nend by invading his hiding-place? Did he not wish that they should\nfind there no single evidence of his occupation?\n\nThe sun disappeared behind the crests of the Blueridge. His rays now\nlighted only the very summit of Black Dome towering in the northwest.\nProbably the \"Terror\" awaited only the night in order to begin her\nflight. The world did not yet know that the automobile and boat could\nalso transform itself into a flying machine. Until now, it had never\nbeen seen in the air. And would not this fourth transformation be\ncarefully concealed, until the day when the Master of the World chose\nto put into execution his insensate menaces?\n\nToward nine o\'clock profound obscurity enwrapped the hollow. Not a\nstar looked down on us. Heavy clouds driven by a keen eastern wind\ncovered the entire sky. The passage of the \"Terror\" would be\ninvisible, not only in our immediate neighborhood, but probably\nacross all the American territory and even the adjoining seas.\n\nAt this moment Turner, approaching the huge stack in the middle of\nthe eyrie, set fire to the grass beneath.\n\nThe whole mass flared up at once. From the midst of a dense smoke,\nthe roaring flames rose to a height which towered above the walls of\nthe Great Eyrie. Once more the good folk of Morganton and Pleasant\nGarden would believe that the crater had reopened. These flames would\nannounce to them another volcanic upheaval.\n\nI watched the conflagration. I heard the roarings and cracklings\nwhich filled the air. From the deck of the \"Terror,\" Robur watched it\nalso.\n\nTurner and his companion pushed back into the fire the fragments\nwhich the violence of the flames cast forth. Little by little the\nhuge bonfire grew less. The flames sank down into a mere mass of\nburnt-out ashes; and once more all was silence and blackest night.\n\nSuddenly I felt myself seized by the arm. Turner drew me toward the\n\"Terror.\" Resistance would have been useless. And moreover what could\nbe worse than to be abandoned without resources in this prison whose\nwalls I could not climb!\n\nAs soon as I set foot on the deck, Turner also embarked. His\ncompanion went forward to the look-out; Turner climbed down into the\nengine-room, lighted by electric bulbs, from which not a gleam\nescaped outside.\n\nRobur himself was at the helm, the regulator within reach of his\nhand, so that he could control both our speed and our direction. As\nto me, I was forced to descend into my cabin, and the hatchway was\nfastened above me. During that night, as on that of our departure\nfrom Niagara, I was not allowed to watch the movements of the\n\"Terror.\"\n\nNevertheless, if I could see nothing of what was passing on board, I\ncould hear the noises of the machinery. I had first the feeling that\nour craft, its bow slightly raised, lost contact with the earth. Some\nswerves and balancings in the air followed. Then the turbines\nunderneath spun with prodigious rapidity, while the great wings beat\nwith steady regularity.\n\nThus the \"Terror,\" probably forever, had left the Great Eyrie, and\nlaunched into the air as a ship launches into the waters. Our captain\nsoared above the double chain of the Alleghanies, and without doubt\nhe would remain in the upper zones of the air until he had left all\nthe mountain region behind.\n\nBut in what direction would he turn? Would he pass in flight across\nthe plains of North Carolina, seeking the Atlantic Ocean? Or would he\nhead to the west to reach the Pacific? Perhaps he would seek, to the\nsouth, the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. When day came how should I\nrecognize which sea we were upon, if the horizon of water and sky\nencircled us on every side?\n\nSeveral hours passed; and how long they seemed to me! I made no\neffort to find forgetfulness in sleep. Wild and incoherent thoughts\nassailed me. I felt myself swept over worlds of imagination, as I was\nswept through space, by an aerial monster. At the speed which the\n\"Terror\" possessed, whither might I not be carried during this\ninterminable night? I recalled the unbelievable voyage of the\n\"Albatross,\" of which the Weldon Institute had published an account,\nas described by Mr. Prudent and Mr. Evans. What Robur, the Conqueror,\nhad done with his first airship, he could do even more readily with\nthis quadruple machine.\n\nAt length the first rays of daylight brightened my cabin. Would I be\npermitted to go out now, to take my place upon the deck, as I had\ndone upon Lake Erie?\n\nI pushed upon the hatchway: it opened. I came half way out upon the\ndeck.\n\nAll about was sky and sea. We floated in the air above an ocean, at a\nheight which I judged to be about a thousand or twelve hundred feet.\nI could not see Robur, so he was probably in the engine room. Turner\nwas at the helm, his companion on the look-out.\n\nNow that I was upon the deck, I saw what I had not been able to see\nduring our former nocturnal voyage, the action of those powerful\nwings which beat upon either side at the same time that the screws\nspun beneath the flanks of the machine.\n\nBy the position of the sun, as it slowly mounted from the horizon, I\nrealized that we were advancing toward the south. Hence if this\ndirection had not been changed during the night this was the Gulf of\nMexico which lay beneath us.\n\nA hot day was announced by the heavy livid clouds which clung to the\nhorizon. These warnings of a coming storm did not escape the eye of\nRobur when toward eight o\'clock he came on deck and took Turner\'s\nplace at the helm. Perhaps the cloud-bank recalled to him the\nwaterspout in which the \"Albatross\" had so nearly been destroyed, or\nthe mighty cyclone from which he had escaped only as if by a miracle\nabove the Antarctic Sea.\n\nIt is true that the forces of Nature which had been too strong for\nthe \"Albatross,\" might easily be evaded by this lighter and more\nversatile machine. It could abandon the sky where the elements were\nin battle and descend to the surface of the sea; and if the waves\nbeat against it there too heavily, it could always find calm in the\ntranquil depths.\n\nDoubtless, however, there were some signs by which Robur, who must be\nexperienced in judging, decided that the storm would not burst until\nthe next day.\n\nHe continued his flight; and in the afternoon, when we settled down\nupon the surface of the sea, there was not a sign of bad weather. The\n\"Terror\" is a sea bird, an albatross or frigate-bird, which can rest\nat will upon the waves! Only we have this advantage, that fatigue has\nnever any hold upon this metal organism, driven by the inexhaustible\nelectricity!\n\nThe whole vast ocean around us was empty. Not a sail nor a trail of\nsmoke was visible even on the limits of the horizon. Hence our\npassage through the clouds had not been seen and signaled ahead.\n\nThe afternoon was not marked by any incident. The \"Terror\" advanced\nat easy speed. What her captain intended to do, I could not guess. If\nhe continued in this direction, we should reach some one of the West\nIndies, or beyond that, at the end of the Gulf, the shore of\nVenezuela or Colombia. But when night came, perhaps we would again\nrise in the air to clear the mountainous barrier of Guatemala and\nNicaragua, and take flight toward Island X, somewhere in the unknown\nregions of the Pacific.\n\nEvening came. The sun sank in an horizon red as blood. The sea\nglistened around the \"Terror,\" which seemed to raise a shower of\nsparks in its passage. There was a storm at hand. Evidently our\ncaptain thought so. Instead of being allowed to remain on deck, I was\ncompelled to re-enter my cabin, and the hatchway was closed above me.\n\nIn a few moments from the noises that followed, I knew that the\nmachine was about to be submerged. In fact, five minutes later, we\nwere moving peacefully forward through the ocean\'s depths.\n\nThoroughly worn out, less by fatigue than by excitement and anxious\nthought, I fell into a profound sleep, natural this time and not\nprovoked by any soporific drug. When I awoke, after a length of time\nwhich I could not reckon, the \"Terror\" had not yet returned to the\nsurface of the sea.\n\nThis maneuver was executed a little later. The daylight pierced my\nporthole; and at the same moment I felt the pitching and tossing to\nwhich we were subjected by a heavy sea.\n\nI was allowed to take my place once more outside the hatchway; where\nmy first thought was for the weather. A storm was approaching from\nthe northwest. Vivid lightning darted amid the dense, black clouds.\nAlready we could hear the rumbling of thunder echoing continuously\nthrough space. I was surprised--more than surprised, frightened!--by\nthe rapidity with which the storm rushed upward toward the zenith.\nScarcely would a ship have had time to furl her sails to escape the\nshock of the blast, before it was upon her! The advance was as swift\nas it was terrible.\n\nSuddenly the wind was unchained with unheard of violence, as if it\nhad suddenly burst from this prison of cloud. In an instant a\nfrightful sea uprose. The breaking waves, foaming along all their\ncrests, swept with their full weight over the \"Terror.\" If I had not\nbeen wedged solidly against the rail, I should have been swept\noverboard!\n\nThere was but one thing to do--to change our machine again into a\nsubmarine. It would find security and calm at a few dozen feet\nbeneath the surface. To continue to brave the fury of this outrageous\nsea was impossible.\n\nRobur himself was on deck, and I awaited the order to return to my\ncabin--an order which was not given. There was not even any\npreparation for the plunge. With an eye more burning than ever,\nimpassive before this frightful storm, the captain looked it full in\nthe face, as if to defy it, knowing that he had nothing to fear.\n\nIt was imperative that the terror should plunge below without losing\na moment. Yet Robur seemed to have no thought of doing so. No! He\npreserved his haughty attitude as of a man who in his immeasurable\npride, believed himself above or beyond humanity.\n\nSeeing him thus I asked myself with almost superstitious awe, if he\nwere not indeed a demoniac being, escaped from some supernatural\nworld.\n\nA cry leaped from his mouth, and was heard amid the shrieks of the\ntempest and the howlings of the thunder. \"I, Robur! Robur!--The\nmaster of the world!\"\n\nHe made a gesture which Turner and his companions understood. It was\na command; and without any hesitation these unhappy men, insane as\ntheir master, obeyed it.\n\nThe great wings shot out, and the airship rose as it had risen above\nthe falls of Niagara. But if on that day it had escaped the might of\nthe cataract, this time it was amidst the might of the hurricane that\nwe attempted our insensate flight.\n\nThe air-ship soared upward into the heart of the sky, amid a thousand\nlightning flashes, surrounded and shaken by the bursts of thunder. It\nsteered amid the blinding, darting lights, courting destruction at\nevery instant.\n\nRobur\'s position and attitude did not change. With one hand on the\nhelm, the other on the speed regulators while the great wings beat\nfuriously, he headed his machine toward the very center of the storm,\nwhere the electric flashes were leaping from cloud to cloud.\n\nI must throw myself upon this madman to prevent him from driving his\nmachine into the very middle of this aerial furnace! I must compel\nhim to descend, to seek beneath the waters, a safety which was no\nlonger possible either upon the surface of the sea or in the sky!\nBeneath, we could wait until this frightful outburst of the elements\nwas at an end!\n\nThen amid this wild excitement my own passion, all my instincts of\nduty, arose within me! Yes, this was madness! Yet must I not arrest\nthis criminal whom my country had outlawed, who threatened the entire\nworld with his terrible invention? Must I not put my hand on his\nshoulder and summon him to surrender to justice! Was I or was I not\nStrock, chief inspector of the federal police? Forgetting where I\nwas, one against three, uplifted in mid-sky above a howling ocean, I\nleaped toward the stern, and in a voice which rose above the tempest,\nI cried as I hurled myself upon Robur:\n\n\"In the name of the law, I--\"\n\nSuddenly the \"Terror\" trembled as if from a violent shock. All her\nframe quivered, as the human frame quivers under the electric fluid.\nStruck by the lightning in the very middle of her powerful batteries,\nthe air-ship spread out on all sides and went to pieces.\n\nWith her wings fallen, her screws broken, with bolt after bolt of the\nlightning darting amid her ruins, the \"Terror\" fell from the height\nof more than a thousand feet into the ocean beneath.\n\n\n\n\nChapter 18\n\nTHE OLD HOUSEKEEPER\'S LAST COMMENT\n\n\nWhen I came to myself after having been unconscious for many hours, a\ngroup of sailors whose care had restored me to life surrounded the\ndoor of a cabin in which I lay. By my pillow sat an officer who\nquestioned me; and as my senses slowly returned, I answered to his\nquestioning.\n\nI told them everything. Yes, everything! And assuredly my listeners\nmust have thought that they had upon their hands an unfortunate whose\nreason had not returned with his consciousness.\n\nI was on board the steamer Ottawa, in the Gulf of Mexico, headed for\nthe port of New Orleans. This ship, while flying before the same\nterrific thunder-storm which destroyed the \"Terror,\" had encountered\nsome wreckage, among whose fragments was entangled my helpless body.\nThus I found myself back among humankind once more, while Robur the\nConqueror and his two companions had ended their adventurous careers\nin the waters of the Gulf. The Master of the World had disappeared\nforever, struck down by those thunder-bolts which he had dared to\nbrave in the regions of their fullest power. He carried with him the\nsecret of his extraordinary machine.\n\nFive days later the Ottawa sighted the shores of Louisiana; and on\nthe morning of the tenth of August she reached her port. After taking\na warm leave of my rescuers, I set out at once by train for\nWashington, which more than once I had despaired of ever seeing again.\n\nI went first of all to the bureau of police, meaning to make my\nearliest appearance before Mr. Ward.\n\nWhat was the surprise, the stupefaction, and also the joy of my\nchief, when the door of his cabinet opened before me! Had he not\nevery reason to believe, from the report of my companions, that I had\nperished in the waters of Lake Erie?\n\nI informed him of all my experiences since I had disappeared, the\npursuit of the destroyers on the lake, the soaring of the \"Terror\"\nfrom amid Niagara Falls, the halt within the crater of the Great\nEyrie, and the catastrophe, during the storm, above the Gulf of\nMexico.\n\nHe learned for the first time that the machine created by the genius\nof this Robur, could traverse space, as it did the earth and the sea.\n\nIn truth, did not the possession of so complete and marvelous a\nmachine justify the name of Master of the World, which Robur had\ntaken to himself? Certain it is that the comfort and even the lives\nof the public must have been forever in danger from him; and that all\nmethods of defence must have been feeble and ineffective.\n\nBut the pride which I had seen rising bit by bit within the heart of\nthis prodigious man had driven him to give equal battle to the most\nterrible of all the elements. It was a miracle that I had escaped\nsafe and sound from that frightful catastrophe.\n\nMr. Ward could scarcely believe my story. \"Well, my dear Strock,\"\nsaid he at last, \"you have come back; and that is the main thing.\nNext to this notorious Robur, you will be the man of the hour. I hope\nthat your head will not be turned with vanity, like that of this\ncrazy inventor!\"\n\n\"No, Mr. Ward,\" I responded, \"but you will agree with me that never\nwas inquisitive man put to greater straits to satisfy his curiosity.\"\n\n\"I agree, Strock; and the mysteries of the Great Eyrie, the\ntransformations of the \"Terror,\" you have discovered them! But\nunfortunately, the still greater secrets of this Master of the World\nhave perished with him.\"\n\nThe same evening the newspapers published an account of my\nadventures, the truthfulness of which could not be doubted. Then, as\nMr. Ward had prophesied, I was the man of the hour.\n\nOne of the papers said, \"Thanks to Inspector Strock the American\npolice still lead the world. While others have accomplished their\nwork, with more or less success, by land and by sea, the American\npolice hurl themselves in pursuit of criminals through the depths of\nlakes and oceans and even through the sky.\"\n\nYet, in following, as I have told, in pursuit of the \"Terror,\" had I\ndone anything more than by the close of the present century will have\nbecome the regular duty of my successors?\n\nIt is easy to imagine what a welcome my old housekeeper gave me when\nI entered my house in Long Street. When my apparition--does not the\nword seem just--stood before her, I feared for a moment she would\ndrop dead, poor woman! Then, after hearing my story, with eyes\nstreaming with tears, she thanked Providence for having saved me from\nso many perils.\n\n\"Now, sir,\" said she, \"now--was I wrong?\"\n\n\"Wrong? About what?\"\n\n\"In saying that the Great Eyrie was the home of the devil?\"\n\n\"Nonsense; this Robur was not the devil!\"\n\n\"Ah, well!\" replied the old woman, \"he was worthy of being so!\"'"