Lost on the Moon by Roy Rockwood

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"You don't mean to say you want to go back there, and run the chance of
being attacked by the savage Martians, do you?" asked Jack.

"No, I was only asking," and the other seemed confused.

"Well, of course, we _could_ go there, as we have plenty of supplies
and enough of the Cardite," said Mr. Roumann. "But I think the moon
will be the limit of our trip this time."

The work went on, the last things to be put aboard the projectile being
a number of scientific instruments. The injured one wandered in and
out, now being in the house and again in the big shed. He seemed
restless and ill at ease, and frequently he walked to the front gate
and gazed down the road.

"You seem to be looking for some one," spoke Jack. "Are you expecting
your girl to come along and bid you good-by, Mark?"

"Who--me? No, I--I was just looking to see if--if it was going to
rain."

"Rain? Well, rain won't make much difference to us soon. We will be
outside of the earth's atmosphere in a jiffy after we have started, and
then rain won't worry us. Is your stateroom all fixed up?"

"No, I didn't think of that. Guess I'd better look after it."

The two started together for the projectile. The stout one entered
first, and made his way through the engine room and main cabin to the
compartment off which the staterooms opened. He entered one.

"Here, that's not yours," cried Jack. "That's where Professor Henderson
sleeps. Yours is next to mine."

"That's right; I forgot," mumbled the other. "I must be getting absent
minded since my accident. But I'll be all right soon. I'll get my room
to rights, and then probably we'll start."

"I guess so," answered Jack, but he shook his head as he gazed after
his chum. "Mark has certainly changed," he murmured. "I wish he'd take
those bandages off, so I could get a look at his face."

The last details were completed. The big _Annihilator_ had been run out
on trucks into the yard surrounding the shed, ready to be hurled
through the air. The shop, shed and house had been locked up and given
in charge of a caretaker, who would remain on guard until our friends
returned.

"Are we all ready?" asked Professor Henderson, as he stood ready to
close the main entrance door and seal it hermetically.

"All ready, I guess," answered Jack. The stout one had gone to his
stateroom, where he could be heard moving about.

"I'm ready," announced Professor Roumann. "Say the word and I'll start
the motor." He was in the engine room, looking over the machinery. At
that moment there came a loud yell from the galley where Washington
White was.

"Heah, heah! Come back!" cried the colored man. "My Shanghai rooster is
got loose!" he yelled, and, an instant later, the fowl came sailing out
of the projectile, with Washington in full chase after him.

"I'll help you catch him," volunteered Jack, springing to the cook's
aid, while Professor Henderson laughed, and a bandaged figure, looking
from a stateroom port, wondered at the delay in starting the
projectile.

CHAPTER XII

MARK'S ESCAPE

Mark Sampson was alone in the deserted house. Bound hand and foot,
stripped of his clothing, and attired in some old garments that the
tramps who made a hanging-out place of the old mansion had cast aside,
the unfortunate lad was stretched on a pile of bagging, his heart
beating partly with fear and partly with rage over a desire to escape
and punish the scoundrel responsible for his plight.

The man who had captured him, after taking away Mark's clothes, had
chuckled, as though at some joke.

"You may think this is funny," spoke the lad bitterly, "but you won't
be so pleased when my friends get after you."

"They'll never get after me," boasted the man. "This is a good joke. To
think that I can pass myself off as you; that I can join them in the
projectile, and they never will be the wiser!"

"They'll soon discover that you are disguised as me," declared Mark,
"and when they do they'll have you arrested."

"Yes, but they'll not discover it until we have left the earth, and are
on our way to the moon. Then it will be too late to turn back, and my
object will have been accomplished. I will be with them in the
_Annihilator_, and I'll have my revenge! The projectile is due to sail
to-morrow, and I'll be on hand. I'm going to leave you now. I have left
orders with a friend of mine that you are to be released to-morrow
night. In the meanwhile you will have to be as comfortable as you can.
I wish you no harm, but I must keep you here.

"I will feed you well before I go, and put some water where you can get
it. But I must leave you tied. I'll not gag you, for, no matter how you
yell, no one will hear you. I have posted a notice in front of this
place that it is under the watch of the police, so no tramps will
venture in, and your friends will not come back.

"Now, just make yourself comfortable here, and I'll go to the moon in
your place. I think I shall enjoy the trip. As I said, you will be
released to-morrow night, several hours after the projectile has left
the earth."

"How do you know it is to start to-morrow morning?" asked Mark.

"Oh, I have been spying around, and I overheard the professors talking.
I know a thing or two, and I'll be on hand, on time, in your place!
Now, I have to leave you. I've left ten dollars to pay for your suit,
which I need to disguise myself with."

Then the man was gone, and Mark was left with his bitter thoughts to
keep him company. The whole daring scheme of the man had been revealed.
He did look something like Mark, and, attired in the lad's clothes, and
by keeping his face concealed, he might pass himself off as Jack's
chum; at least, until after the projectile had started.

"And then, as he says, it will be too late to return to earth and get
me," thought Mark bitterly. "Oh, why did I ever try to learn this man's
secret? Who is he, anyhow? Why didn't I wait for Jack at the barn, as I
promised? It's all my fault. I wonder if I can't get loose?"

Mark struggled several hours desperately and at last he felt the ropes
giving slightly. He redoubled his efforts. Strand by strand the cords
parted. He put all his efforts into one last attempt, and to his great
joy he felt his hands separate. He was partly free!

But scarcely half his task was accomplished. He had yet to discover the
secret of the hidden room--a room, as he afterward learned, which had
been built during slavery days to conceal the poor black men who were
escaping from the South.

"But now I have my hands to work with!" exulted Mark.

Resting a bit after his strenuous labors, he took a long drink of water
and attacked the ropes on his feet. They were comparatively easy to
loosen, and soon he stood up unbound.

"Now for the secret panel!" he exclaimed, for he was convinced that it
was by some such means that his captor had entered and left. As has
already been explained, Mark knew on which side of his prison the
opening was likely to be--it would be where the warning knocks had
sounded. He began a minute inspection of that wall.

But if Mark hoped to speedily discover the secret he was doomed to
disappointment. He went over every inch of the surface, seemingly, and
pressed on every depression or projection that met his eye, as he
passed the candle flame along the wall.

Success did not reward him, and, as hour after hour passed, and the
candle burned lower and lower, Mark began to despair.

"I must escape before the projectile leaves," he murmured. "It will
never do to let them take that man with them under the impression that
they have me. I must escape! I will!"

Once more he began the tiresome task of seeking the secret spring. The
candle was spluttering in the socket now. It would burn hardly another
minute. Desperately Mark sought.

At last, just as the candle gave a dying gasp and flared brightly up
prior to going out, the lad saw a small screw head he had not noticed
before. It was sunk deep in a board.

"I'll press that and see what happens!" he exclaimed.

With a suddenness that was startling, he found himself in total
darkness. The candle had burned out, but he had his finger on the
screw. He pressed it with all his force.

There was a rumbling sound in the darkness, a movement as if some heavy
body had slid out of the way, and Mark felt a breath of air on his
cheeks. Then he saw a dim light.

"Oh, I'm out! I'm out!" he cried joyously, breathing a prayer of
thankfulness at his deliverance. "I'm free! I pushed on the right
spring, and the panel slid back!"

He fairly leaped forward. The morning light was streaming in through
the broken windows. He saw himself in the old hall of the mansion, at
the head of the stairs, in a sort of anteroom, the mantle of which
apartment had swung aside to give him egress from the secret chamber
through a hole in the wall. He was free!

"But am I in time?" he cried. "It is morning--and about ten o'clock, I
should judge. I've been working to get free all night. Will I be in
time?"

He gave one last look behind at his prison and sprang down the rickety
stairs. He had but one thought--to reach home in time to unmask the
villain who was impersonating him--to be in time to make the journey to
the moon.

"But it's several miles, and I can't walk very fast," murmured Mark.
"I'm too stiff and weak. How can I do it?"

He thought of making his way to the nearest farm house, and asking for
the loan of a horse and carriage, but he looked so much like a tramp
that no farmer would lend him a horse.

"And I need to make speed," he murmured.

At that moment he heard a noise down the road. It was a steady "chug-
chug," like some distant motor-boat, but there was no water near at
hand.

"A motorcycle!" exclaimed Mark. "Some one is coming on a motorcycle.
Oh, if I could only borrow it!"

He ran down into the road. He could see the rider now. To his joy it
was Dick Johnson--the lad who had brought him the mysterious note.

"Hi Dick! Dick! hold on!" cried Mark.

The lad on the motor gave one glance at the ragged figure that had
hailed him. Then he turned on more power to escape from what he thought
was a savage tramp.

"Wait! Stop! I want that motorcycle!" cried Mark.

"Well, you're not going to get it!" yelled back Dick. "I'll send the
police after you."

Mark couldn't understand. Then a glance down at his ragged garments
showed him what was the matter.

"Wait! Hold on, Dick!" he cried, running forward. "I'm Mark Sampson!
I've had a terrible time! I was captured by that mysterious man, and
he's got my clothes. I must get home quick!"

Dick heard, but scarcely understood. However, he comprehended that his
friend was in trouble, and he wanted to help him. He slowed up, and
Mark reached him.

"Lend me your motorcycle, Dick," begged Mark. "I must get home in a
hurry to unmask a scoundrel. I'll leave your machine for you at our
house. I won't hurt it. I'm in a hurry! Get off!"

Somewhat dazed, Dick dismounted, and Mark climbed into the saddle. He
began to pedal, and then threw in the gasolene and spark. The cycle
chugged off.

"I'll leave it for you at our house," Mark called back. "I'm going on a
trip to the moon, and I don't want to be late."

He was fast disappearing in a cloud of dust, while Dick, gazing after
him, remarked:

"Well, I always thought those fellows were crazy to go off in
projectiles and things like that, and now I'm sure of it. Going to the
moon! Well, I only hope he doesn't take my motorcycle there!"

Mark sped on, turning the handle levers to get the last notch of speed
out of the cycle. Would he be in time?

CHAPTER XIII

A DIREFUL THREAT

Perhaps Washington White's Shanghai rooster did not care to make the
trip to the moon, or perhaps the fowl had not yet seen enough of this
earth. At any rate, when he flew from the projectile, uttering loud
crows, and landed some distance away, he began to run back toward the
coop in the rear of the yard.

"Cotch him, cotch him!" yelled the colored man. "Dat's a valuable
bird!"

"We'll get him when he goes in the coop," said Jack, who found it
difficult to run and laugh at the same time.

"Shall I fire my rifle off and scare him?" asked Andy Sudds.

"No, you might kill him or scare him t' death," objected Washington.

"Come on, Mark, and help," cried Jack, looking toward the projectile,
where a figure was peering from the glass-covered port of the main
cabin.

But the figure, whose hand was done up in voluminous bandages, did not
come out, and Jack wondered the more at what he thought was a growing
strangeness on the part of his chum.

Jack, followed by Andy and Washington, raced off after the rooster,
while the two professors, somewhat amused, rather chaffed at the delay.
But afterward they were glad of it.

"Just my luck!" muttered the bandaged one. "This delay comes at the
wrong time. Why don't they go on without that confounded rooster? If we
stay here too long, that fellow Mark may get loose and spoil the whole
thing, or Jenkins may go and release him before the time set. It would
be just like Jenkins! I've a good notion to start the projectile
myself. I know how to operate the Cardite motor. Only I suppose those
two professors are on guard in the engine room. I'll have to wait until
they catch that rooster, I guess, but I'd like to wring his neck!"

The chase after the fowl was kept up.

"I've got him now!" cried Jack a little later, as the fowl, evidently
now much exhausted, ran into another fence corner, where Jack caught
him, and shut him up in the coop in the projectile.

"Yo' suttinly am de mos' contrary-minded specimen ob de chicken fambly
dat I eber seed," observed Washington, breathing heavily, for his run
had winded him.

"Well, are we all ready to start now?" asked Professor Henderson. "No
more live stock loose, is there, Jack?"

"I think not."

"Where's Mark? Wasn't he helping you catch the rooster?"

"No, he's inside. Shall I seal the door?"

"Yes, and I'll tell Professor Roumann that we're about to start. All
ready for the moon trip!"

Jack was pulling the steel portal toward him. An eager face, peering
from a port, waited anxiously for the tremor which would indicate that
the projectile had left the earth. In another moment they would be off.

But what was that sound coming from down the highway. A steady chug-
chug--a sort of roar, as of a battery of rapid-fire guns going off in
double relays! And, mingled with the explosions, there was a voice
shouting:

"Wait! Hold on! Don't go without me! I'm Mark Sampson! Don't start the
projectile!"

"Somebody must be in a mighty hurry on a motorcycle," thought Jack, as
he paused a moment before fastening the door. Then the shouts came to
his ears.

"Mark Sampson!" he cried.

Again came the cry: "Wait! Wait! Don't go without me! You've got that
mysterious man on board!"

"Mark Sampson!" murmured Jack again. "That's his voice sure enough! I
wonder--can it be possible--that man--with his head all bandaged up--
his queer actions--I--I----"

Words failed the youth. Throwing wide open the door, he sprang out of
the projectile. A moment later there dashed into the yard, where the
great projectile rested, a strange figure astride of a puffing
motorcycle. The figure was torn and, ragged, and the nondescript
garments were covered with dust, for Mark had had a fall. But there was
no mistaking the face that peered eagerly forward.

"Jack!" cried the youth on the machine.

"Mark!" ejaculated the lad who had sprung from the projectile. "What
has happened? Who is the fellow who has been masquerading as you?"

"A scoundrel and a villain! Let me get at him!" and, slamming on the
brakes, as he shut off the power, Mark leaped from the motorcycle,
stood it up against the projectile, and clasped his chum by the hand.

"What's the matter?" asked Professor Henderson, as he, too, ran out of
the _Annihilator_. "What does that tramp want, Jack? Give him some
money, and get back in here; we ought to have started long ago." He
looked at the ragged figure.

"This isn't a tramp," cried Jack. "It's Mark!"

"Mark! I thought----"

"There have been strange doings," gasped the lad in tramp's garments.
"I have just escaped from being kept a prisoner. Where is the
mysterious man? Oh, I'm glad I arrived in time! Were you about to
start?"

"That's what we were," replied Jack. "Oh, Mark, but I'm glad to see you
again! I didn't know what to think. You acted so strange--or, rather,
the fellow we thought was you had me guessing!"

"Good land a' massy!" exclaimed Washington White, as he stood in the
doorway, with Andy Sudds behind him. "Am dere two Marks? What's up,
anyhow?"

"Don't let that fellow get away--the fellow who passed himself off as
me!" shouted Mark. "Lock him up! There's some mystery about him that
must be explained. He's a dangerous man to be at large."

Professor Henderson turned back to enter the projectile. Jack advised
Andy to get his gun ready, with which to threaten the scoundrel in case
of necessity.

At that instant there sounded a crash of glass, and the whole front of
the big observation window in the side of the _Annihilator_ was smashed
to atoms. A figure leaped--a figure which no longer had its head
bandaged, and whose arm was no longer in a sling--the figure of a man--
the mysterious man who had held Mark a prisoner!

"There he goes!" shouted Jack. "Catch him, somebody! Andy, where's your
gun?"

"I'll have it in a jiffy!" cried the hunter, as he dashed back to get
it.

But the man did not linger. Scrambling to his feet after his fall,
caused by his leap from the broken window, which he had smashed with a
sledge hammer as soon as he understood that his game was up, he raced
out of the yard. He turned long enough to shake his fist at the group
assembled around the projectile, and then leaped away, calling out some
words which they could not hear.

"Let's take after him," proposed Mark.

"Come on," seconded Jack.

"No, let him go; he's a desperate man, and you came just in time to
unmask him," said Professor Henderson. "He might harm you if you took
after him. Let him go. He has not done much damage. We can easily
replace the broken window. But I can't understand what his object was
in disguising himself as Mark. He certainly looked like you, Mark,
especially when he kept his face concealed. Why did he do it?"

"He wanted to go to the moon in my place," answered the former prisoner
of the deserted house.

"But why?" insisted Jack.

"Because, I think, he's crazy, and he didn't really know what he did
want. But he certainly had me well concealed," spoke Mark. "I'm free
now, however, and as soon as I get some decent clothes on I'll go with
you to the moon. I wouldn't want the moon people to see me dressed this
way."

"How did it happen?" asked Jack. "Tell us all about it. My! but I
certainly have been puzzled since you--or rather since the person we
thought was you--came back last night all bunged up. Give us the
story."

"I will; give me a chance. I guess that villain is gone for good." Andy
Sudds came out with his gun, and insisted on taking a look down the
road and around the premises. The man was nowhere in sight.

"Now we're in for another delay," remarked Jack ruefully, as he gazed
at the smashed window. "It seems as if we'd never get started for the
moon."

"Oh, yes, we will," declared Professor Henderson. "We have some extra
heavy plate glass in the shop, and we can soon put in another
observation window."

"Let's get right to work then," proposed Jack. "That man may come back.
Did you learn who he was, Mark?"

"No, he wouldn't tell his name, and he said he was doing this to get
revenge on us for some fancied wrong. I can't imagine who he is. But
let's work and talk at the same time. I'll tell you all that happened
to me," which he did briefly.

Mark soon got rid of the tramp clothes, and donned an extra suit which
had been packed in his trunk in the projectile. Then he helped replace
the broken window, which, in spite of their haste, took nearly all the
rest of the day to put in place.

"Shall we wait and start to-morrow?" asked Jack, when four o'clock
came. "It will soon be dark."

"Darkness will make no difference to us," announced Professor Roumann.
"Our Cardite motor will soon take us out of the shadow of the earth,
and we will be in perpetual sunshine until we reach the moon. As we are
all ready, we might as well start now."

They all agreed with this, and, after a final inspection of the
projectile, the travellers entered it, and Jack was once more about to
seal the big door.

Before he could do so there came riding into the yard, on his
motorcycle, which he had claimed that afternoon, Dick Johnson.

"Wait a minute," he cried. "I've got a letter for you. It's from that
man!"

"What--another thing to delay us?" cried Jack, but he called to
Professor Roumann not to start the motor, and ran to take from Dick the
letter which the lad held out.

"That same man who gave me the one for Mark gave me this, and he paid
me a half a dollar to bring it here," said the boy.

"All right," answered Jack impatiently.

He looked at the note. It was addressed to the "Moon Travellers," and,
considering that he was one, the youth tore open the envelope. In the
dim light of the fading day he read the bold handwriting.

"I have fixed you," the letter began. "You will never get to the moon.
I shall have my revenge. You took my brother Fred Axtell to Mars and
left him there. I determined to get him back, and to that end I
disguised myself as one of the boys, and got aboard. When we were
safely away from the earth, I would have compelled you to go to Mars
and rescue my brother. But my plan has failed. I will have my revenge,
though. You will never reach the moon, even if you do get started.
Beware! George, the brother of Fred Axtell, will avenge his fate!"

"The brother of the crazy machinist!" gasped Jack. "Now I understand
his strange actions. He's crazy, too--he wanted to go to Mars--he says
we will never reach the moon! Say, look here!" cried Jack, raising his
voice. "Here's bad news! That scoundrel has put some game up on us!
Maybe he's tampered with the machinery! It won't be safe to start for
the moon until we've looked over everything carefully! He says he's
fixed us, and perhaps he has!"

From the projectile came hurrying the would-be moon travellers, a vague
fear in their hearts.

CHAPTER XIV

OFF AT LAST

In the gathering twilight Professor Henderson read slowly the note Dick
had brought. Then he passed it to Professor Roumann. The latter shook
his shaggy gray hair, and murmured something in German.

"Where did you meet the man?" asked Jack of the young motorcyclist.

"About two miles down the road. He was walking along, sort of talking
to himself, and I was afraid of him. He called to me, and offered me a
half a dollar to deliver this message. I didn't want to at first, but
he said if I didn't he'd hurt me, so I took it. Is it anything bad?"

"We don't know yet," replied Mark.

"No, that is the worst of it," added Professor Roumann. "He has made a
threat, but we can't tell whether or not he will accomplish it. We are
in the dark. He may have done some secret damage to our machinery, and
it will take a careful inspection to show it."

"And will the inspection have to be made now?" asked Jack.

"I think so," answered Professor Henderson gravely. "It would not be
safe to start for the moon and have a breakdown before we got there. We
must wait until morning to begin our trip."

"It will be the safest," spoke the German, and the boys, in spite of
the fact that they were anxious to get under way, were forced to the
same conclusion.

"Then if we're going to camp here for the night," proposed old Andy,
"what's the matter with me and the boys having a hunt for that man?
We've put up with enough from him, and it's time he was punished. If we
let him go on, he'll annoy us all the while, if not now, then after we
get back from the moon. I'm for giving him a chase and having him
arrested."

"He certainly deserves some punishment, if only for the way he treated
Mark," was Jack's opinion, his chum having related how he was drugged
and kept a prisoner in the secret room, and how he escaped in time to
unmask the villain.

"Well," said Professor Henderson, after some thought, "it might not be
a bad plan to see if you could get that scoundrel put in some safe
place, where he could make no more trouble for us. I guess the lunatic
asylum is where he belongs, though I can sympathize with him on account
of his brother. But it was not our fault that the crazy machinist went
with us to Mars. He was a stowaway, and went against our wishes, and
when he got there he tried to injure us."

"Then may Mark, Andy and I see if we can find this man?" asked Jack.

"Yes, but be careful not to get separated; and don't run any risks,"
cautioned the professor. "Mr. Roumann and I, with the help of
Washington, will go carefully over all the machinery, and every part of
the projectile, to see if any hidden damage has been done. But don't
stay out too late. You had better notify the police. They may be able
to give you some aid, and I don't mind letting them know about it now,
as we will soon be away from here, because, no matter if they do send
detectives or constables spying about now, they can learn none of our
secrets."

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