The Lost City [30]
took note, and with greater presence of mind came to the rescue, lightly resting a hand upon the stranger's half-bare shoulder while addressing his words to the youngster.
A tremulous sigh escaped those bearded lips, and their owner drew closer to the wiry little aeronaut, plainly drawing great comfort from that mere contact. And with like ease uncle Phaeton lifted one of those hairy arms to rest it over his own shoulders, speaking briskly the while.
"There is only one way of demonstrating the truth more clearly, my youthful inquisitor, and that is by sending you on a voyage of exploration. Are you willing to make the attempt, Waldo?"
"Not this evening; some other evening,--maybe!" drawing back a bit, with a shake of his curly pate to match. "But, I say, uncle Phaeton--"
"Allow me to complete my say, first, dear boy," with a bland smile. "That is easily done, though, for it merely consists of this: yonder sink, or whirlpool, is certainly the method this lake has of relieving itself of all surplus water. Everything points to a subterranean river which connects this lake with the Pacific Ocean."
"Wonder how long I'd have to hold my breath to make the trip?"
CHAPTER XI. ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR THE PROFESSOR.
The stranger laughed aloud at this, then seemed surprised that aught of mirth could be awakened where grief and despair had so long reigned supreme.
"You will come with me to--to my den, gentlemen?" he asked, still nervous, and plainly loath to do aught which indicated a return to his recent dreary method of living.
"Is the distance great?" asked Professor Featherwit, with a glance towards the aeromotor, then flashing his gaze further, as though to guard against possible harm coming to that valuable piece of property.
More than ever to be guarded now, since the words spoken by this exile. Better death in yonder mighty whirlpool than a half-score years' imprisonment here!
Not so very far, he was assured, while it would be comparatively easy to float the air-ship above the trees, there of no extraordinary growth.
At the same time this assurance was given, the stranger could not mask his uneasiness of mind, and it was really pitiful to see one so strong in body and limb, so weak otherwise.
But uncle Phaeton was a fairly keen judge of human nature, and possessed no small degree of tact. Divining the real cause of that dread, he took the easiest method of allaying it, speaking briskly as he moved across to the aerostat.
"Bear the gentleman company, my lads, while I manage the ship. You will know what signals to make, and I can contrive the rest."
Again the recluse laughed, but now it was through pure joy, such as he had not experienced for long years gone by. He was not to be deserted by his rescuers from the whirlpool, and that was comfort enough for the moment.
Thanks to that guidance, but little time was cut to waste, Professor Featherwit taking the flying-machine away from the shore of the lake, floating slowly above the tree-tops, guiding his movements by those below, finally effecting a safe landing in a miniature glade, at no great distance from the "den" alluded to by their new-found friend.
"It will be perfectly safe here," the exile hastened to give assurance, as that landing was made. "Then, too, this is the only spot nigh at hand from which a hasty ascent could well be made, even with such an admirable machine as yours. Ah, me!" with a long breath which lacked but little of being a sigh, as he keenly, eagerly examined the aerostat. "A marvel! Who would have dared predict such another, only a dozen years ago? I thought we had drawn very close to perfection while I was in the profession, but this,--marvellous!"
Both words and manner gave the keen-witted professor a clew to one mystery, and he quickly spoke:
"Then you were familiar with aerostatics, sir? Your name is--"
"Edgecombe,--Cooper Edgecombe."
"What?" with undisguised surprise in face as in voice. "Professor Edgecombe, the celebrated balloonist who was lost so long ago?"
"Ay!
A tremulous sigh escaped those bearded lips, and their owner drew closer to the wiry little aeronaut, plainly drawing great comfort from that mere contact. And with like ease uncle Phaeton lifted one of those hairy arms to rest it over his own shoulders, speaking briskly the while.
"There is only one way of demonstrating the truth more clearly, my youthful inquisitor, and that is by sending you on a voyage of exploration. Are you willing to make the attempt, Waldo?"
"Not this evening; some other evening,--maybe!" drawing back a bit, with a shake of his curly pate to match. "But, I say, uncle Phaeton--"
"Allow me to complete my say, first, dear boy," with a bland smile. "That is easily done, though, for it merely consists of this: yonder sink, or whirlpool, is certainly the method this lake has of relieving itself of all surplus water. Everything points to a subterranean river which connects this lake with the Pacific Ocean."
"Wonder how long I'd have to hold my breath to make the trip?"
CHAPTER XI. ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR THE PROFESSOR.
The stranger laughed aloud at this, then seemed surprised that aught of mirth could be awakened where grief and despair had so long reigned supreme.
"You will come with me to--to my den, gentlemen?" he asked, still nervous, and plainly loath to do aught which indicated a return to his recent dreary method of living.
"Is the distance great?" asked Professor Featherwit, with a glance towards the aeromotor, then flashing his gaze further, as though to guard against possible harm coming to that valuable piece of property.
More than ever to be guarded now, since the words spoken by this exile. Better death in yonder mighty whirlpool than a half-score years' imprisonment here!
Not so very far, he was assured, while it would be comparatively easy to float the air-ship above the trees, there of no extraordinary growth.
At the same time this assurance was given, the stranger could not mask his uneasiness of mind, and it was really pitiful to see one so strong in body and limb, so weak otherwise.
But uncle Phaeton was a fairly keen judge of human nature, and possessed no small degree of tact. Divining the real cause of that dread, he took the easiest method of allaying it, speaking briskly as he moved across to the aerostat.
"Bear the gentleman company, my lads, while I manage the ship. You will know what signals to make, and I can contrive the rest."
Again the recluse laughed, but now it was through pure joy, such as he had not experienced for long years gone by. He was not to be deserted by his rescuers from the whirlpool, and that was comfort enough for the moment.
Thanks to that guidance, but little time was cut to waste, Professor Featherwit taking the flying-machine away from the shore of the lake, floating slowly above the tree-tops, guiding his movements by those below, finally effecting a safe landing in a miniature glade, at no great distance from the "den" alluded to by their new-found friend.
"It will be perfectly safe here," the exile hastened to give assurance, as that landing was made. "Then, too, this is the only spot nigh at hand from which a hasty ascent could well be made, even with such an admirable machine as yours. Ah, me!" with a long breath which lacked but little of being a sigh, as he keenly, eagerly examined the aerostat. "A marvel! Who would have dared predict such another, only a dozen years ago? I thought we had drawn very close to perfection while I was in the profession, but this,--marvellous!"
Both words and manner gave the keen-witted professor a clew to one mystery, and he quickly spoke:
"Then you were familiar with aerostatics, sir? Your name is--"
"Edgecombe,--Cooper Edgecombe."
"What?" with undisguised surprise in face as in voice. "Professor Edgecombe, the celebrated balloonist who was lost so long ago?"
"Ay!