At the Earths Core | Page 5

only after ten
years.
I recall as it were but yesterday the night of that momentous occasion
upon which we were to test the practicality of that wondrous invention.
It was near midnight when we repaired to the lofty tower in which
Perry had constructed his "iron mole" as he was wont to call the thing.

The great nose rested upon the bare earth of the floor. We passed
through the doors into the outer jacket, secured them, and then passing
on into the cabin, which contained the controlling mechanism within
the inner tube, switched on the electric lights.
Perry looked to his generator; to the great tanks that held the life-giving
chemicals with which he was to manufacture fresh air to replace that
which we consumed in breathing; to his instruments for recording
temperatures, speed, distance, and for examining the materials through
which we were to pass.
He tested the steering device, and overlooked the mighty cogs which
transmitted its marvelous velocity to the giant drill at the nose of his
strange craft.
Our seats, into which we strapped ourselves, were so arranged upon
transverse bars that we would be upright whether the craft were
ploughing her way downward into the bowels of the earth, or running
horizontally along some great seam of coal, or rising vertically toward
the surface again.
At length all was ready. Perry bowed his head in prayer. For a moment
we were silent, and then the old man's hand grasped the starting lever.
There was a frightful roaring beneath us--the giant frame trembled and
vibrated--there was a rush of sound as the loose earth passed up
through the hollow space between the inner and outer jackets to be
deposited in our wake. We were off!
The noise was deafening. The sensation was frightful. For a full minute
neither of us could do aught but cling with the proverbial desperation of
the drowning man to the handrails of our swinging seats. Then Perry
glanced at the thermometer.
"Gad!" he cried, "it cannot be possible--quick! What does the distance
meter read?"
That and the speedometer were both on my side of the cabin, and as I
turned to take a reading from the former I could see Perry muttering.

"Ten degrees rise--it cannot be possible!" and then I saw him tug
frantically upon the steering wheel.
As I finally found the tiny needle in the dim light I translated Perry's
evident excitement, and my heart sank within me. But when I spoke I
hid the fear which haunted me. "It will be seven hundred feet, Perry," I
said, "by the time you can turn her into the horizontal."
"You'd better lend me a hand then, my boy," he replied, "for I cannot
budge her out of the vertical alone. God give that our combined
strength may be equal to the task, for else we are lost."
I wormed my way to the old man's side with never a doubt but that the
great wheel would yield on the instant to the power of my young and
vigorous muscles. Nor was my belief mere vanity, for always had my
physique been the envy and despair of my fellows. And for that very
reason it had waxed even greater than nature had intended, since my
natural pride in my great strength had led me to care for and develop
my body and my muscles by every means within my power. What with
boxing, football, and baseball, I had been in training since childhood.
And so it was with the utmost confidence that I laid hold of the huge
iron rim; but though I threw every ounce of my strength into it, my best
effort was as unavailing as Perry's had been--the thing would not
budge--the grim, insensate, horrible thing that was holding us upon the
straight road to death!
At length I gave up the useless struggle, and without a word returned to
my seat. There was no need for words--at least none that I could
imagine, unless Perry desired to pray. And I was quite sure that he
would, for he never left an opportunity neglected where he might
sandwich in a prayer. He prayed when he arose in the morning, he
prayed before he ate, he prayed when he had finished eating, and before
he went to bed at night he prayed again. In between he often found
excuses to pray even when the provocation seemed far-fetched to my
worldly eyes--now that he was about to die I felt positive that I should
witness a perfect orgy of prayer--if one may allude with such a simile
to so solemn an act.

But to my astonishment I discovered that with death staring him in the
face Abner Perry was transformed into a new being. From his lips there
flowed--not prayer--but