IV.
Empiria, the new county seat of the new county Dominion of the new Stateof Harrison, was twenty miles away to the northward as the crow flies,and at least thirty miles off by road. The horse that Mr. Ticks had theforethought to purchase developed an unaccountable spavin, united withan unmistakable case of the heaves: when the whip was applied itfurthermore exhibited an innate tendency to back. Mr. Swift drovethrough the darkness of the night, picking out the road with that geniusfor locality which the general and the reporter in the field sharealike. Barring mistakes, accidents, or further exhibitions of depravityon the part of the equine department, they hoped to reach Empiria bydawn.
Mr. Ticks leaned back upon the jolting seat in unbroken silence. Whenhis colleague, who drove, hazarded a question, the only reply was a lowgrunt. As sleep was out of the question in that wagon, behind that horseand in those roads, was it pain or mighty thought or nebulouscalculation that oppressed the wise man of the _Planet_? At about twoo'clock in the morning Mr. Stalls Ticks broke his long reserve with thefollowing remark:
"If it is, it is a unique case. The phenomenon is isolated."
"I hope you feel better now?" Swift had been anxious about hiscolleague, and had interpreted his silence as evidence of physicaldistress. Mr. Ticks gave an invisible shrug of his shoulders to expressthe contempt he felt for his own anatomy in comparison with theattainment of exact knowledge. Otherwise, heedless of the interruption,he proceeded:
"It is physically impossible that a low-pressured area could have hadits centre three or four hundred miles northwest of Russell."
"Indeed?" replied Swift, vaguely and unsympathetically.
"It must travel towards the centre of the low pressure."
"Of course," assented Swift, as he would to a lunatic. Evidently thatinexpressible shock had been too much for the middle-aged man.
"The Gopher lake on the north, and the Buzzard mountain on the south,prevent the isothermal curve from being deflected toward the north."
"Really?" said Swift.
"It will be deflected to the south, young man," said Mr. Ticks,severely. "The atmospheric equilibrium can suffer no centripetaldisturbance."
"Well, what then?" asked Swift, a little bored.
"There could be no gyrating motion of the atmosphere. There will be noaerial contest. There could be no colder stratum above the warmer layercoming from another direction. Both would flow from the south. Therecould be no inversion of these conditions. My friend, Russell hasexperienced no tornado or cyclone. And yet--" he added wistfully andthoughtfully, "and yet--"
"Well, if there was no tornado, what the deuce are we going toEmpiria for?" demanded Swift. He forgot himself, and gave thefour-hundred-dollar horse a sharp cut with the whip, in consequence ofwhich the animal backed them so nearly toward the place from which theystarted that the journey to Empiria was seriously lengthened. Mr. Ticksdid not notice this delay.
"--And yet?" he mused.
"What is the matter, then, if it isn't wind?" asked Swift, impatiently,after he had persuaded his horse to defer the next attack of backing fora mile or so. "Is there a new variety of atmospheric disturbance? Ifso, it might strike us here!"
"Sir--no! This is not a common tornado. As to further theories, they arenot formulated as yet. No, this quadrant of the State of Harrison wasnot subjected to such a violent disturbance. I am prepared to say thatthere will be no evidences of a vortex wind in or near Empiria." Mr.Ticks relapsed into further thought, nor could he be aroused until thejaded horse brought the two jaded reporters into the open square of thecounty seat.
It was early, about five o'clock, but still there were evidences ofstirring and excitement. Upon the village common two or three largetents were erected, and from out of these, scantily dressed men andwoman emerged. As these came into the cool, open air they lifted uptheir faces to the south, searching the horizon and sky to see if therewas anything new in the smitten district. It was a motion as instinctiveas that of the Mahomedan toward Mecca when he prays. The appearance ofour two strangers excited no notice. Empiria was on a branch road,difficult of access, but people had flocked in and the village hadbecome a city.
After a hard struggle, in which persistent ingenuity won, Swift obtaineda little corn for his horse, and a promise of breakfast for himself andcompanion.
By six the populace was awake, bustling with feverish eagerness andoppressed with dread and suspense. Swift questioned a hundred, climbedto the tops of trees, advanced upon the mysterious dead line, andretired baffled at every step.
As he thought of that vast enclosure, that was now an unapproachablecemetery, his soul shuddered within him. Like a thousand beside him,this man of nerve was baffled and overcome.
By nine o'clock, Swift had exhausted the spot, and was for pushing on tothe westward to complete the perplexing circle if necessary. Perhaps anentrance might be forced elsewhere. He was sitting in his buggy with Mr.Ticks, who was as uncommunicative as the dasher when he looked for thehundredth time towards the Buzzard mountains. As he gazed he saw turkeybuzzards, of which there are thousands in that land, wheeling theirspiral flight above the afflicted territory. Swift looked at them as healways did, wondering how they could fly so long without flapping theirwings, when suddenly he cried out:
"By Jove! I have it!" This startled Mr. Ticks.
"What? Have you new information? What has occurred?"
"No; but I have an idea--_the_ idea--but I don't see how I could put itthrough without time. I will go to Russell, or over Russell in aballoon!"
The light of inspiration and sympathy flashed from one to the other.
"I congratulate you on the thought," said Mr. Ticks gravely. "I think Ican procure you one in a quarter of an hour."
Now, under no circumstances is a balloon an easy thing to obtain. Evenin a metropolis like New York or London it will take the cleverestreporter at least eighteen minutes, if not a few seconds longer, to huntup a suitable means of ascension. It is not as simple a matter as onemay suppose, to "go up." Therefore, when Mr. Ticks, in a matter-of-factvoice, asserted that he would procure the balloon in fifteen minutes,Swift fetched a long low whistle. But not in the least disconcerted bySwift's manner, Mr. Ticks slowly descended from the vehicle, and said:
"Just wait here until I come back, so that no time may be lost." Hestrode towards one of the large tents on the common and disappearedwithin its flaps. Had Mr. Ticks the formula for inflating a canvas tentinto a balloon? Who knew?
In a few minutes the statistician returned, bringing with him a tall,cadaverous man, whose leanness was heightened by a long chin beard,which descended upon his chest to the middle button of his coat. Havinga beard of this description, the gentleman had no need of a necktie, andhaving no necktie, he, of course, dispensed with a collar.
"Professor Ariel, my friend Mr. Swift, who wishes to talk business." Mr.Ticks performed the introduction in his blandest manner. The man whoseemed to see nothing had seen everything. It had taken the unpractical,the scholar, the dreamer, the muser, to observe the broken remnants of acounty fair, and the advertisement of that aeronautic expedition,conducted by the renowned Professor Ariel, who was to have made anascension at twelve o'clock that awful day, taking with him a couple tobe married in the seventh heavens and a Seventh-Day Baptist clergyman totie the knot. It was at ten in the morning that Russell was closed in,and the balloon and the professor had been ignominiously forgotten.
"Where is your balloon, professor?" asked Swift, when he had learnedthese preliminary details.
"Darn it all, in that barn there!" The professor spoke as if he had apersonal grievance against the barn.
"Are--were they to have paid you for your ascension?"
"Five hundred dollars, and I hain't seen a red, and I can't get out ofthis infernal place."
"I suppose it is in good condition?" inquired the editor.
"You bet! It's new. Never been used. Cost twenty-five hundred dollars.Cash!"
"How long would it take you to get he
r ready?"
"Three hours' pushing would do it, I suppose."
"We want to go up in that balloon, Professor Ariel," said Swift, afterdeliberation. Mr. Ticks confirmed this demand with an affirmativegesture of his sad head.
"Can't be done, sir. I wouldn't risk her in this crowd!"
The professor spoke decisively.
"Do you know who we are?"
The professor shook his head.
"We are here representing the _Daily Planet_, and it will be the biggestadvertisement you ever had."
The professor still shook his head doubtfully.
"If you were the President and all his angels I wouldn't risk it. Acounter-current might carry us over that cussed spot, and we'd all bestiff before you could say Jinks."
Nothing daunted, Swift took the aeronaut by the arm, offered him acigar, and pointed towards the Buzzard mountains.
"That's just where we want to go. D'ye see those birds up there? If theycan stand it we can. This deadly what-you-call-it doesn't reach as highas that."
The professor stared and then muttered to himself:
"Gee--mima! The feller's hit it right."
"Now, look here, professor! You're a famous man. Everybody knows _you_.The _Planet_ charters your balloon for five hundred dollars. Is it ago?"
The professor's eyes glittered yellow, the color of greed.
"I couldn't think of it. I couldn't risk the danger. It's an unknowncountry, now--no, I couldn't."
"Call it six hundred."
"Impos-sible!"
"Seven!"
"That wouldn't pay me if she breaks."
"Eight hundred dollars!"
"Couldn't do it."
"Nine hundred dollars. I'm tired."
"Subtract eight and add a cipher, and I'm your man."
"Very well! Mr. Ticks is witness. I will give you five hundred when weleave the ground, and the balance when we touch it again."
"Done!"
The two men shook hands over their bargain.
"Let me see," said Swift, glancing at his watch, "it is ten o'clock. Wewill ascend at one."
"I will assist the professor in preparing his airship," said Mr. Ticks."By the way, how tall is your balloon, professor? What is her cognomen?"
"I call her _High Tariff_, mister. That's her name. You'll see it onher. Wait till she gets her forty thousand cubic feet of gas in her, andyou'll see her height."
By twelve o'clock the multitude had got wind of the undertaking, andwere thronging towards the fenced enclosure, where the huge monster wasflapping with that inane motion that only a half-filled balloon can taketo itself. Rumors of the wildest description were afloat. By half-pasttwelve the balloon was, to all appearance, full, and sandbags were beingput aboard. By one the crowd could hardly be kept back by self-swornmarshals, and the balloon tugged at its warps as if it would burst itsbonds at the slightest provocation.
The _High Tariff_ now awakened the utmost enthusiasm. Men came by tensand hundreds to make offers for the risky trip.
"Blank it all, she's chartered, the _High Tariff_ is," was theaeronaut's invariable reply. "She don't belong to me this trip. Ask theowners."
At ten minutes after one precisely Swift appeared upon the ground. Hehad just sent off the following message to his paper:
"_Start immediately for Russell by thousand dollar balloon._"
He had sold his horse and team and had purchased provisions with theproceeds. Five minutes after the sale the horse backed into the hoteland smashed the buggy into Chinese joss-sticks.
Swift walked calmly to the car and ordered the provisions aboard.
"Have you a long ladder and grapnel?" he inquired.
"Two hundred and fifty feet each."
"Anchor?"
"Two hundred pounds."
"Are you ready, professor?" asked Swift, satisfied with his inspection.
"She's full to bustin'!" said the professor, looking uneasily at thestraining cable.
"Jump in, Mr. Ticks!" The crowd was almost beside itself at the boldnessof the undertaking. Men yelled and hooted encouragement as the venerableand musty editor stepped into the car with a natural air. It took morethan this to embarrass Mr. Ticks.
"Now, professor!" As Swift spoke he handed the professor a draft on the_Planet_ for five hundred dollars. The professor hesitated no longer. Hesnatched the check and bounded in. An assistant stood ready with an axeto cut the ropes that held the impatient balloon. Swift then stepped inleisurely. It was just twenty-nine minutes and a quarter past oneo'clock. The crowd shrieked as if their throats would burst. Swiftlifted his hat in acknowledgment.
"Good luck!"
"Never say die!"
"Come back and tell us all about it."
"If you see my husband tell him I'm waiting for him."
They cheered and yelled and cried and cheered again.
"Are you ready?" asked Swift, looking at his companions.
"Then let her go!"
A cut, a swirl, an indescribable motion, and shouts became to those inthe _High Tariff_ whispers, men became ants, and they were gone.