Mr Hawkins Humorous Adventures | Page 9

that Hawkins deliberately steered out of the road and into big rocks; but the auto, in the most peculiar manner, just touched them and bounced over with never a jar.
In fact, after two miles of rather heavy going, I suddenly realized that I hadn't experienced the slightest of jolts.
"Hawkins," I observed, "the man that made the springs under this thing must have been a magician."
"Well, well!" said the inventor. "On to it at last that there is something out of the ordinary about this auto, are you? But it's not the springs, my dear boy, it's not the springs!"
"What is it?"
"Griggs," said Hawkins, beaming upon me, "you are riding in the first and only Hawkins' Auto-aero-mobile! That's what it is!"
"Another invention!" I gasped.
"Yes, another invention. What the deuce are you turning pale about?"
"Well, your inventions, Hawkins--"
"Don't be such a coward, Griggs. Except that I had the body built of aluminum, this is just an ordinary automobile. The invention lies in the canopy. It's a balloon!"
"Is it--is it?" I said weakly.
"Yes, sir. Just at present it's a balloon with not quite enough gas in it to counterbalance the pull of gravitation on the car and ourselves. I've got two cylinders of compressed gas still connected with it. When I let them feed automatically into the balloon, and then automatically drop the iron cylinders themselves in to the road, we shall fairly bound over the ground, because the balloon will just a trifle more than carry the whole outfit."
"Well, don't waste all that good gas, Hawkins," I said hastily. "I can--I can understand perfectly just how we should bound without that."
"Don't worry about the gas," smiled Hawkins placidly. "It costs practically nothing. There! One of the cylinders is discharging now."
I glanced timidly above. Sure enough, the canopy was expanding slowly and assuming a spherical shape.
Presently a thud announced that Hawkins had dropped the cylinder. Then he pulled another lever, and the process was repeated.
As the second cylinder dropped, we rose nearly a foot into the air. Still we maintained a forward motion, and that was puzzling.
"How is it, Hawkins," I quavered, "that we're still going ahead when we don't touch the ground more than once in a hundred feet?"
"That's the propeller," chuckled the inventor. "I put a propeller at the back, so that the auto is almost a dirigible balloon. Oh, there's nothing lacking about the Hawkins Auto-aero-mobile, Griggs, I can tell you."
When I had recovered from the first nervous shock, the contrivance really did not seem so dangerous.
We traveled in long, low leaps, the machine rarely rising more than a foot from the ground, and the motion was certainly unique and rather pleasant.
Nevertheless, I have a haunting fear of anything invented by Hawkins, and my mind would insist upon wandering to thoughts of home.
"Not going down-town, are you, Hawkins?" I asked with what carelessness I could assume.
"Just for a minute. I want some cigars."
"Hawkins," I murmured, "you are a pretty heavy man. When you get out of this budding airship, it won't soar into the heavens with me, will it?"
"It would if I got out," said the inventor, with pleasant assurance. "But I'm not going to get out. We'll let the cigar man bring the stuff to us."
So it would rise if any weight left the car! That was food for thought.
Suppose Hawkins, who operated the auto according to the magazine pictures of racing chauffeurs, leaning far forward, should topple into the road? Suppose a stray breeze should tilt the machine and throw out some part?
Up without doubt, we should go, and there seemed to be quite an open space up above, through which we might travel indefinitely without hitting anything that would stay our celestial journey.
"How do you let the gas out of the balloon, Hawkins?" I ventured presently.
"Oh, the cock's down underneath the machine," said that gentleman briefly. "Don't worry, Griggs. I'm here."
That, in a nutshell, was just what was worrying me, but there seemed to be nothing more to say. I relapsed into silence.
We rolled or floated or bounced, or whatever you may choose to call it, into town without accident or incident. People stared considerably at the kangaroo antics of our car, and one or two horses, after their first glance, developed furor transitorius on the spot; but Hawkins managed to pull up before his cigar store, which was in the outskirts of the town, without kicking up any very serious disturbance.
The cigars aboard, I had hoped to turn my face homeward. Not so Hawkins.
"Now, down we go to the square," he cried buoyantly, "do a turn before the court house, float straight over the common, and then bounce away home. I guess it'll make the natives talk, eh, Griggs?"
"Your things usually do, Hawkins," I sighed. "But why perform to-day? This is only the first trial trip.