Through Space to Mars; Or, the Longest Journey on Record by Roy Rockwood
Through Space to Mars; Or, the Longest Journey on Record by Roy Rockwood
"Mark, hand me that test tube, will you, please?"
The lad who had made the request looked over at his companion, a boy of about his own age, who was on the other side of the laboratory table.
"The big one, or the small one?" questioned Mark Sampson.
"The large one," answered Jack Darrow. "I want to put plenty of the chemical in this time and give it a good try."
"Now be careful, Jack. You know what happened the last time."
"You mean what nearly happened. The tube burst, but we didn't get hurt. I have to laugh when I think of the way you ducked under the table. Ha, ha! It was awfully funny!"
"Humph! Maybe you think so, but I don't," responded Mark with rather a serious air. "I noticed that you got behind a chair."
"Well, of course. I didn't want broken glass in my eyes. Come on, are you going to hand me that test tube, or will I have to come and get it? We haven't much more time to–day."
"Oh, here's the tube," said Mark as he passed it over. "But please be careful, Jack."
Jack measured out some black chemical that resembled gunpowder, and poured it into the test tube which Mark handed him. Then he inserted in the opening a cork, from which extended a glass tube, to the outer end of which was fastened a rubber pipe.
He paused in his experiment to laugh again.
"What are you making-laughing gas?" asked Mark.
"No. But-excuse me-ha, ha! I can't help laughing when I think of the way you ducked under the table the other day."
"Maybe you'll laugh on the other side of your countenance, as Washington White would say," commented Mark; "especially if that big tube bursts."
"But it isn't going to burst."
"How do you know?"
"Well, I worked out this experiment carefully. I've calculated just how strong the new gas will be, and-"
"Ah, that's just it. It's a new gas, and you've never yet succeeded in making it, have you?"
"No; but-"
"And it takes a different combination of chemicals to make it from any you ever experimented with before, doesn't it?" asked Mark.
"It does. But-"
"Yes, and I don't see how you can tell, with any amount of calculation, just how much force will develop from those chemicals, as no one ever put them together before."
"Well, maybe I can't," admitted Jack. "But this tube is very strong, and even if it does break nothing very serious can happen."
"Unless the gas you expect to generate is stronger than you have any idea of."
"Well, I'm going to do it. I've got half an hour before Professor Lenton and his class comes in, and that's time enough. Here, just hold this rubber tube under this jar, will you? And be sure to keep the edge of the jar below the surface of the water. I don't want any of the gas to escape."
He handed Mark the end of the rubber tube, and the somewhat nervous student, who was helping his chum Jack in the experiment, inserted it under the edge of a large bell–glass, the open mouth of which was placed just under the surface of water in a shallow pan.
The two lads were students at the Universal Electrical and Chemical College. They stood high in their classes, and were often allowed to conduct experiments on their own responsibility, this being one of those occasions. Jack, who was somewhat older than his companion, was of a more adventurous turn of mind, and was constantly trying new things. Not always safe ones, either, for often he had produced small explosions in the laboratory of the college. Only minor damage had been done thus far, but, as Mark said, one could never tell what was going to happen when Jack mixed certain things in test tubes and placed them over a spirit lamp, or the flame of a Bunsen burner.
"Have you got that tube under the jar?" asked Jack as he lighted a large Bunsen flame.
"It's under," answered Mark. "But say, what are you going to do in case you prove that your theory is right, and that you can make a new kind of gas? What good will it be?"
"Lots of good. If I'm right, this will be the lightest gas ever made. Much lighter than hydrogen-"
"Lighter than the kind Professor Henderson made for use in the Flying Mermaid, in which we went to the center of the earth?"
"No, I'm afraid I can't equal his gas; but then, no one can ever hope to. I'm going to make a new gas, though, and I'll show you that it will be much lighter and more powerful than hydrogen."
"More powerful, eh? Then I wish you'd have some one else hold this. I'm afraid the test tube will burst."
"What if it does? It can't hurt you-very much. But here, since you're so nervous, I'll put a pile of books all around the tube and the burner. Then, if it bursts, the books will prevent the pieces of glass from flying all about. Does that satisfy you?" and Jack began heaping some books about the burner, over which he was about to suspend the test tube containing the queer chemical.
"Yes," returned Mark doubtfully. "I suppose it's all right-unless the books will be blown all over."
"Well, I'll be jig–sawed!" exclaimed Jack with a laugh. "There's no satisfying you. You're too particular, Mark."
"Maybe; but I don't want to get hurt."
"You'll not be injured in the least. Look, you're quite a distance away, and even if it does explode and the books are scattered away, it can't hurt much to be hit by one of these volumes. There, I'm all ready now. Hold the tube firmly."
He placed the test tube in a support, clamping it fast, so that it would be held steady over the flame. Then he turned on more of the illuminating gas, which, coming through the Bunsen burner, was made intensely hot. A little column of flame now enveloped the big test tube containing the powder.
There was a little crackling sound as the heat expanded the powder, and the end of the test tube became quite red from the flame.
"That tube'll melt!" exclaimed Mark, peering over the pile of books. "It's too near the flame."
"Guess you're right," admitted Jack. "I'll raise it up a bit."
He turned down the flame and elevated the tube slightly. Then he took a position where he could watch the process of making what he hoped would be a new kind of gas. He wanted to be where he could see the vapor beginning to collect in the top of the tube, pass off through the glass in the cork, and then through the little rubber hose to the bell glass held by Mark. If the gas was generated too quickly, Jack knew he would have to turn down the heat slightly.
The crackling sound continued. Then, as Jack watched, he saw a thick, yellowish vapor collecting in the top of the test tube near the cork.
"It's coming!" he cried. "There's my new gas!"
"What's the name of it?" asked Mark.
"I haven't named it yet. I want to collect it in the jar and show it to Professor Lenton. He said he didn't believe I could make it."
The boys resumed their careful watching of the experiment. It was a nervous moment, for, from experience, Mark knew you never could tell what would happen when Jack began to try new combinations of chemicals. He was ready to drop down on an instant's warning, out of the way of flying missiles.
"See any bubbles in that pan of water yet?" cried Jack.
"No, not yet."
"That's queer. The test tube is full of the yellow gas, and some ought to be over to where you are now. I'm going to turn on some more heat."
He increased the Bunsen flame. The crackling noise was louder. The test tube became a fiery red.
"It's bubbling now!" suddenly called Mark.
"That's good! The experiment is a success! I knew I could make it. Is any of the gas coming up in the glass jar?"
Mark bent over to make a closer examination. There were a few seconds of silence, broken only by the roaring of the burner and the crackling of the black powder.
"Yes, there is vapor in the jar," he said.
"Good! That's the stuff!" cried Jack. "Now I guess Professor Lenton will admit that I'm right."
He turned the Bunsen flame up higher. A moment later he uttered a cry, for he saw the cork being forced from the test tube. The pressure of the new gas was too much for it.
"Lookout!" cried Jack. "She's going up!"
Then followed a sharp explosion, and the laboratory seemed filled with fragments of broken glass and torn books.
Roy Rockwood was a house pseudonym used by the Stratemeyer Syndicate for boy's adventure books. The name is mostly well-remembered for the Bomba, the Jungle Boy (1926-1937) and Great Marvel series (1906- 1935). The Stratemeyer Syndicate was the producer of a number of series for children and adults including the Nancy Drew mysteries, the Hardy Boys, and others. The Stratemeyer Syndicate was the creation of Edward Stratemeyer, whose ambition was to be a writer a la Horatio Alger. He succeeded in this ambition (eventually even writing eleven books under the pseudonym "Horatio Alger"), turning out inspirational, up-by-the-bootstraps tales. In Stratemeyer's view, it was not the promise of sex or violence that made such reading attractive to boys; it was the thrill of feeling "grown-up" and the desire for a series of stories, an "I want some more" syndrome. Works written under that name include: Five Thousand Miles Underground; or, The Mystery of the Centre of the Earth (1908), Jack North's Treasure Hunt (1907) and Lost on the Moon; or, In Quest of the Field of Diamonds (1911).
Lost on the Moon or In Quest of the Field of Diamonds by Roy Rockwood
Under the Ocean to the South Pole; Or, the Strange Cruise of the Submarine Wonder by Roy Rockwood
Through the Air to the North Pole / Or, The Wonderful Cruise of the Electric Monarch by Roy Rockwood
On a Torn-Away World; Or, the Captives of the Great Earthquake by Roy Rockwood
The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave. At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety. As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers. "Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in. That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission. Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away.
Kristine planned to surprise her husband with a helicopter for their fifth anniversary, then learned the marriage had been a setup from day one. The man she called a husband never loved her-it was all one hell of a lie. She dropped the act, shed a lot of weight, and rebuilt herself, ready to make every bastard eat their words. After an impulsive remarriage, she accidentally exposed who she really was: a star designer and heir to a billion-dollar empire. And the bodyguard she'd hired was him all along! Who would've known, the "college student" she married turned out to be a feared underworld kingpin.
Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday's news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace. But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge. A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart. Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister's perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn't come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn. But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left? A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again? She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she'll rule alone... or let someone melt the ice in her heart.
After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"
For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.
To the public, she was the CEO's executive secretary. Behind closed doors, she was the wife he never officially acknowledged. Jenessa was elated when she learned that she was pregnant. But that joy was replaced with dread as her husband, Ryan, showered his affections on his first love. With a heavy heart, she chose to set him free and leave. When they met again, Ryan's attention was caught by Jenessa's protruding belly. "Whose child are you carrying?!" he demanded. But she only scoffed. "It's none of your business, my dear ex-husband!"
© 2018-now CHANGDU (HK) TECHNOLOGY LIMITED
6/F MANULIFE PLACE 348 KWUN TONG ROAD KL
TOP
GOOGLE PLAY