Mr Hawkins Humorous Adventures | Page 5

more of his diabolical inventions.
For a similar reason, his own good lady drew me aside a few evenings
since, and insisted upon my promising to use every means, physical
force included, which might prevent her "Herbert" from experimenting
further with his motor.
Hawkins hadn't favored me with any confidences about the motor, and
at the first opportunity I indicated with brutal directness that none was
desired.
Hawkins inquired with frigid asperity as to my meaning; but the very
iciness of his manner satisfied me that he understood perfectly, and,
believing that he was sufficiently offended to keep entirely to himself
all details of his machine--whatever it might be--I breathed more easily.

Some of these days one of Hawkins' inventions is going to take him on
a personally conducted tour to a quiet little grave, and I have no wish to
learn the itinerary beforehand.
Now, bitter experience has taught me that eternal vigilance is the price
of freedom from complicity with the mechanical contrivances of
Hawkins, and I should have been suspicious. Yet when Hawkins
appeared Sunday morning and asked me to go for a little jaunt up the
Hudson in his launch, I accepted with guileless good faith.
His launch was--perhaps it is still--the neatest of neat little pleasure
boats, and when we left the house I anticipated several hours of keen
enjoyment.
Crossing Riverside Drive, it struck me that Hawkins was hurrying, but
the balmy air, the sunshine, and the beautiful sweep of the river filled
my mind with infinite peace, and it was not until we had descended to
the little dock that I smelled anything suggestive of rat.
Hawkins climbed into the launch, and I smiled benignly on him as I
handed down the lunch and our overcoats. I had just finished passing
them over when I stopped smiling so suddenly that it jarred my facial
muscles.
"Where has the engine gone?" I demanded.
"That engine, Griggs," responded Hawkins, pleasantly, "has gone
where all other steam engines will go within the next two years--into
the scrap heap."
"Which very cheerful prophecy means----"
"It means, my dear boy, that before you stands the first full-sized
working model of the Hawkins A. P. motor, patent applied for!"
The inventor flicked off a waterproof cover and exposed to view in the
stern of the launch what looked like an inverted wash-boiler. At first
glance it appeared to be merely a dome of heavy steel, bolted to a

massive bed-plate, but I didn't spend much time examining the thing.
"There, Griggs," began Hawkins, triumphantly, "in that small----"
"Hawkins," I cried, desperately, "you get out of that boat! Get out of it,
I say! Come home with me at once. I'm not going to be mixed up in any
more of your wretched trial-trips. Come on, or I'll drag you out!"
Hawkins eyed me coldly for a minute, admonished me not to be an ass,
and went on untying the launch.
He is stronger and heavier than I. Frankly, had I meditated such a
course seriously, I couldn't have hoisted him out of his boat.
If I had ever studied medicine, I suppose I should have known how to
stun Hawkins from above without killing him, but I have never even
seen the inside of a hospital.
Again, could I have conjured up any plausible charge, I might have
called a policeman and requested him to incarcerate Hawkins; at the
moment, however, I was a bit too flustered for such refined strategy.
Obviously, I couldn't prevent Hawkins testing his motor, but my heart
quaked at the idea of accompanying him.
On the other hand, it quaked quite as much before the prospect of
returning to his wife and admitting that I had allowed Hawkins to sail
away alone with his accursed motor.
If I went with him, a relatively easy death by drowning was about the
best I could expect. If I didn't, his wife----
I stepped down into the launch.
"Coming, are you?" observed Hawkins. "Quite the sensible thing to do,
Griggs. You'll never regret it."
"God knows, I hope not," I sighed.

"Now, in the first place, I may as well call your attention again to the
motor. The A. P. stands for 'almost perpetual'--good name, isn't it? You
don't know much about chemistry, Griggs, or I could make the whole
proposition clear to you."
"The great point about my motor, however, is that she's run by a fluid
somewhat similar to gasolene--another of the distillation products of
petroleum, in fact--which, having been exploded, passes into my new
and absolutely unique catalytic condensers, where it is returned to its
original molecular structure and run back into the reservoir."
"Hence," finished Hawkins, dramatically, "the fuel retains its chemical
integrity indefinitely, and, as it circulates automatically through the
motor, the little engine will