Mr Hawkins Humorous Adventures | Page 9

genius, Hawkins
is quick to anger, but usually he is equally ready to forgive and forget.
Hence it astonished me that two whole weeks passed Without the
appearance of his genial countenance on my premises.
They were really two weeks of peace unbroken, but I had begun to
think that it might be better for me to stroll over and beg pardon for my
levity when one bright morning Hawkins came chug-chugging up the
drive in a huge, new, red automobile.
It was of the type so constructed that the two rear seats of the car may
be dropped off at will, converting it into a carriage for two, and the
only peculiar detail I noted was the odd-looking top or canopy.
"Well, what do you think of her?" demanded Hawkins with some pride.
"She's all right," I said, admiringly.
"Body's built of aluminum," continued the inventor. "Jump in and feel
the action of her."
As I have said, barring the canopy, the thing appeared to be an ordinary
touring-car, and I was tired of lolling in the hammock. Without
misgiving, I climbed in beside Hawkins, and he turned back to the
road.
The auto did run beautifully. I had never been in a machine that was so
totally indifferent to rough spots.
When we came to a hillock, we simply floated over it. If we reached an

uncomfortably sharp turn, the auto seemed to rise and cut it off with
hardly a swerve.
Once or twice I noticed 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