The Scientific American Boy | Page 3

The Paddles. The Receiving
Trough. Setting Up the Towers. Mounting the Water Wheel. Cooling
the Filter Barrel. The Canvas Bucket. Mr. Halliday's Water Wheel.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE LOG CABIN
Foundation of Log Cabin. A Logging Expedition. The Log Raft. The
Sail-Rigged Raft. Building the Log Cabin. The Roof of the Log Cabin.
Door and Window Frames. The Fireplace. The Proper Way to Build a
Stone Wall. The Floor of the Cabin. The Door Hinges and Latch. The
Window Sash. Bunks. Stopping up the Chinks.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE WINDMILL
Digging the Well. The Windmill Tower. The Crank Shaft. The Wind
Wheel. A Simple Brake. The Pump. Pump Valves. Action of the Pump.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE GRAVITY RAILROAD
The Car. The Flanged Wheels. Car Axles. Mounting the Wheels. The
Railway Truck. The Carpenter's Miter Box. Laying the Track. The First
Railway Accident. Testing the Track.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CANTILEVER BRIDGE
Frames for the Cantilever Bridge. Erecting the Towers. Setting up the
Frames. Binding and Anchoring the Structure. The Center Panels of the
Bridge. A Serious Interruption. Dispossessed. Farewell to Willow
Clump Island. Reddy's Cantilever Bridge.

[Illustration: Map of Willow Clump Island and Vicinity.]

THE SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN BOY.
CHAPTER I.
"BILL."
"Bill," he was it, the Scientific American Boy, I mean. Of course, we
were all American boys and pretty scientific chaps too, if I do say it
myself, but Bill, well he was the whole show. What he didn't know
wasn't worth knowing, so we all thought, and even to this day I
sometimes wonder how he managed to contrive and execute so many
remarkable plans. At the same time he was not a conceited sort of a
chap and didn't seem to realize that he was head and shoulders above
the rest of us in ingenuity. But, of course, we didn't all have an uncle
like Bill did. Bill's Uncle Ed was one of those rare men who take a
great interest in boys and their affairs, a man who took time to answer
every question put to him, explaining everything completely and yet so
clearly that you caught on at once. Uncle Ed (we all called him that)
was a civil engineer of very high standing in his profession, which had
taken him pretty much all over the world, and his naturally inquisitive
nature, coupled with a wonderful memory, had made him a veritable
walking encyclopedia. With such an uncle it is no wonder that Bill
knew everything. Of course, there were some things that puzzled even
Bill. But all such difficulties, after a reasonable amount of brain-work
had failed to clear them, were submitted to Uncle Ed. Uncle Ed was
always prompt (that was one thing we liked about him), and no matter
where he was or what he was doing he would drop everything to
answer a letter from the society.

The Old Trunk.

But hold on, I am getting ahead of my story. I was rummaging through
the attic the other day, and came across an old battered trunk, one that I
used when I went to boarding-school down in south Jersey. That trunk
was certainly a curiosity shop. It contained a miscellaneous assortment
of glass tubes, brass rods, coils of wire, tools, fish hooks--in fact, it was
a typical collection of all those "valuables" that a boy is liable to pick
up. Down in one corner of the trunk was a black walnut box, marked,
with brass letters, "Property of the S. S. I. E. E. of W. C. I." On my
key-ring I still carried the key to that box, which had not been opened
for years. I unlocked the box and brought to light the "Records and
Chronicles of the Society for the Scientific Investigation, Exploration
and Exploitation of Willow Clump Island." For hours I pored over
those pages, carried back to the good old times we used to have as boys
along the banks of the Delaware River, until I was brought sharply back
to the present by the sound of the dinner bell. It seemed that the matter
contained in those "Chronicles" was too good to be kept locked up in
an old trunk. Few boys' clubs ever had such a president as Bill, or such
a wonderful bureau of information as Uncle Ed. For the benefit of boys
and boykind in general, I decided then and there to publish, as fully as
practicable, a record of what our society did.
[Illustration: Fig. 1. The Old Truck in the Attic.]
[Illustration: Fig. 2. The Black Walnut Box.]

Christmas Vacation.
This was how the society came to be formed. Bill, whom I met at
boarding-school, was an orphan, and that's why he was sent to
boarding-school. His uncle had to go down to Brazil to layout a
railroad, I believe, and so