i
there are men who make a living, sometimes a very good one, through the process of teaching others to do what they themselves can not do. you can purchase for a price in any of many quarters printed maxims embodying full formula covering the secret of success; in each case from one who has not succeeded. nothing is cheaper than maxims, in type, in worsted, or in transparencies. to be in the fashion you should have certain of these above your desk, and should incline your ear to those who profess to teach what can not be taught even by those most nearly fitted to teach.
john rawn cared little for maxims, being above them, in his own belief, at least. in all likelihood he had never read the advice of the philosopher, to wit: that each man should hitch his wagon to a star. no, he knew something better. he hitched his to a river.
very naturally, john rawn selected the largest river that he could find. his silent partner was none less than the father of the waters!
there is this to be said about a river, that it is wholly tireless and immeasurably powerful; that it enters into no combinations against capital, and does its work without unseemly disturbances. rawn was wise enough to know these things, nor asked any maxims to advise him therein. in his belief it was better to allow this sort of silent partner to furnish the industry and the economy.
ii
who shall measure the power of a river, for ever falling to the sea? how many millions of horses and men has it equalled in its wasted power in each generation, in each decade, in each year? certainly sufficient to lift the entire burden of labor from the shoulders of the world.
what mind can measure the extent of such a force, or dream the possibilities of its application, if it could be set to work? what equivalent of human brain and brawn could be valued against this careless, ceaseless power, derived endlessly from the air and the earth—power given to the peoples of the earth before the arrival of our present political and industrial masters; given them in the time when the earth was the lord's and the fullness thereof. the minerals under the earth, the food produced in the soil, the waters offering paths and power—before the earth and its fullness passed from the hands of the lord into those of our present masters, these, it may be conceived, were intended as the lord's gift to the peoples of the earth. that, however, was quite before the advent of john rawn.
toil has always been the human lot. we have carried the mechanical burdens as well as the mental burdens of life on our own human bodies and souls; although all the time thousands of patient giants were waiting, willing to serve us. john rawn could see them waiting. he knew to whom one day would be due the power, and the kingdom, and the glory. he could look toward the white-topped mountains, foreseeing the day when they would be put under tribute, because they breed tumbling waters of immeasurable strength and utility. their heritage of beauty and majesty is naught to minds such as that of john rawn's. utility is the one word in the maxims of such as these, men beloved of the immortal gods.
we speak of kings, of emperors, but what emperor in all the history of the world had servants such as these, submissive giants such as these, to work for him? we speak of miracles of old. what miracles ever equaled the business wonders, the money-piling miracles, of the last twenty years in america?
iii
where gat this silent partner of john rawn's its own tremendous power? out of the sun and the earth, the parents of humanity. the raindrop on the leaf, shot through with the shaft of the sun, fell to some near-by rill and, joined by other rills, marched on, alive, tireless, tremendous, toward the sea. even far up toward their source, had your little boat lodged, counter to the current, on some rock or snag, and had you attempted to push it back against the thrust of the downcoming waters, you might have got some knowledge of the power of even a little stream. ten feet below you, that power again would have been quite as great; and ten feet below that again as great; and so on, to the sea. it required the advice of no professional maxim makers to teach a few of our great men, our specially endowed superiors, john rawn first among them, that this power one day must be used. in accordance as it shall be used, the burden of humanity may be lifted from human shoulders, or thrust crushingly down upon them until indeed humanity shall cease to hope. the earth and its fullness are no more the lord's to-day. they are john rawn's.
the simple plan of the international power company, was to make some strong obstruction inviting the enormous resistance of the father of the waters, tantalizing that power into being. thus, in a manner perfectly simply, this force, once evoked and utilized, would turn numberless wheels endlessly, tirelessly. so much for the material side of manifested power. the essence, the soul, the intangible spirit of that material power was, in the plans of international, to be transmitted by wire at first, and later through the free air. its sale in definite and merchantable quantities would come as near to the solution of the problem of perpetual motion and perpetual profit as may be arrived at in this world of limitations.
iv
rawn asked nothing better than this idea. it was beautiful, and he valued it over all his many and various other ventures. he could let his silent partner put other men out of work; and so these could be rehired at such price as he himself cared to set. he saw the time approach when he would be able to retail at a price, remote from his silent, tireless partner's labors, merchantable packages of power, to feed a cart, a plow, a wheel of any sort; power to lift and labor, to toil ceaselessly without remonstrance. it was and is a splendid dream. its bearing is as you be rawn or halsey. that power shall labor for or against mankind as ourselves shall say.
shall we blame ourselves, or john rawn, in this republic, that he saw on ahead only limitless personal power, limitless gold, jewels, wine, women, personal indulgence of any sort that appealed to him? shall we blame halsey for dreading the issue of these plans, delaying them all he could; clinging to the belief that the earth was the lord's and the fullness thereof; and that the lord gave it to all mankind? and shall we blame the stock-holders for being impatient at renewed delays? the wire transmission was installed, making every man in the international rich. yet every man in the secret of the real ambition of this company burned inwardly at this enforced secrecy and this unseemly delay. the mysterious factory at the edge of the great inland city still was silent. the directors raged. they wanted to drain to the last drop the strength even of this tireless giant. they wanted to begin to bottle, measure and sell, sell for ever, the very force which holds the spheres in their places! in time we shall perhaps see completed what these men planned. there is no logical reason why, if one planet can be owned by a john rawn or so, yet others should not!
v
for a long time jim sullivan, foreman at the factory of the international, wondered and pondered as to the real intent of these strange machines which he saw little by little growing up under the uncommunicative direction of the superintendent, halsey. he had never seen anything like them, with their vast coils of insulation, their intricate cogs and wheels, their centrally-hidden huge glass jars, and the long, toothed ridge, like a delicate metal comb, which surmounted the top of each. there was something mysterious about it all. he was sure that halsey did something with these machines when the men were not about. the very air seemed throbbing with some tense quality of mystery. the men themselves were suspicious, irritable. never was the air in any factory more surcharged alike with ignorance and with anxiety. man after man, good mechanic though he was, quit the place simply because he did not know what he was doing. the feeling of mystery was tense, oppressive.
on one certain sunday morning jim sullivan strolled over to the vacant factory. he knew that the superintendent had spent almost the entire night there working alone on one of these mysterious machines. it stood there now. and—yes! it was different from what it had been when sullivan last saw it! it was now apparently complete, so far as he could tell. there was no one near it. halsey had gone home, to bed. of late he had been very tired, pale, haggard; and he always was at his work in the factory, when good men slept, and knew light-winged dreams.
vi
jim sullivan, stood now looking at the grim, uncanny machine, hands in his pockets, wondering. he looked about him, superstitiously. there seemed to be something in the air, he could not explain what. he turned, looking behind him, and tiptoed to the front door, where tim carney, the blue-coated guardian, stood leaning against the wall.
"tim!" he whispered, although there was none to hear. "come on in here!"
"what is it, jim?" asked the watchman.
"i dunno; that's why i'm callin' you."
"has anny wan broke into th' place?"
"not as i know, but somethin's happened here. i'm figurin' 'twas the boss done it. come in and have a luk, now. he's gone home."
they stepped gingerly on across the floor, along the row of unfinished machines, and paused at the one farthest from the door, which had excited jim's curiosity.
"here's where the boss worked all last night!" whispered the foreman hoarsely. "'twas daybreak when he come home, an' he was all in. he's been workin' on her before now, i know that. i'm thinkin' she's about done, belike!"
"whatever kind of a spook joint is this, anyhow, jim?" demanded the watchman. "what's she for, do ye think now?" they two, bullet-headed, hairy, heavy and powerful, stood looking at this contrivance, whose growth through many months they had been watching. the value of it either could measure in comprehensible terms. it was worth ten thousand dollars to either of them who would—and could—tell a certain man how it was made.
"i dunno what she's for," answered jim slowly, "but i'm thinkin' it's no good at all. it's the devil, maylike. not that she's so big neither. i could almost turn her over with a pinch bar." he pointed to an arm, or lever, which stood at the side of the machine. "she looks somethin' like one o' them drills i used to run in th' tunnel, time hogan was mayor, do ye mind? whin we wanted to throw her in we pushed down an arm, somethin' like this."
"sure, jim, 'tis you have the head fer machines. i dunno about thim at all," rejoined tim, scratching his head. "but 'tis a shame we can't throw her in, now. manny a time i've wondered what 'twas all about in here. why shud strangers be so anxious as to—"
"she luks like a patent gate in a fince, as much as annything else," commented jim. "but as fer throwin' her in, how cud we? she's attached to nothin' at all, so there's nothin' to throw her into. she's got no wire or cord runnin' to her, unless belike it comes up through the flure. she looks like she was some sort of motor, but how she's to run i dunno. now if she was geared to annything, you cud throw her in, most-like, by this thing here. it luks like she was done, and if she is, i don't know why the boss wud go away and leave the roof open over her." he pointed to a sliding window in the roof directly above the machine. he then reached out and swung some of his weight upon the end of the engaged arm or lever. then, to the joint surprise of the two observers, a very singular thing forthwith occurred.
vii
what happened, as nearly as either of them later could describe it, might have been called a duplication in large of the phenomena of halsey's original motor, with which he burst the fan in the railway office at st. louis. there was a low crackling in the air, a dancing series of blue flame points along the toothed ridge. then began a low purr, as of a motor in full operation. they could see sparks emitted, somewhere at the interior of the intricate machinery. a living, splitting, crackling roar filled the air about them—the roar of the shackled river, far away, raging at the violence done it! a projecting shaft, fitted with a pulley head, began to revolve, faster and faster, until its speed left it apparently motionless.
something had happened, they knew not what. the machine was alive! some force seemed to come down out of the air, to locate itself somewhere within this intricate mechanism. they stood, two bullet-headed, hairy, powerful men, looking at what they had done.
"do ye mind that now?" gasped jim sullivan, and wrenched at the lever, restoring it to its original position. the purring of the motor ceased, the blue sparks disappeared, the roar subsided growlingly.
viii
"what was it?" demanded tim carney. "throw her in again, jim!"
"not on yer life!" gasped jim sullivan. "i dunno what 'tis, but i'll take no chances with the divil an' his works, on a sunday leastways. there's somethin' wrong in here, i'm tellin' you, tim. what made her go, i dunno. she's under power, same like a compressed air drill—but where'd she git her power?—the divil's in it, that's all, tim. i'm thinkin' the best we can, do is to git away from here. come, shut the dure—an' watch it. me, i'm goin' to the praste ag'in this very day! i see now what that felly wanted!"
jim sullivan locked the door and left his friend guarding it; then hurried across the street to the superintendent's cottage. mrs. sullivan, busy there about her morning duties, would have stopped him, but jim would have no denial, and hastening up the stairs to halsey's bedroom, impetuously demanded entrance. halsey, drawn, haggard, unshorn, greeted him, half sitting up in bed.
"what's wrong, jim?" he demanded. "has anybody got into the works?"
"hush, boy!" said jim, his finger on his lips. "you need tell me nothin'. but i know what it's all about."
halsey sat looking at him dumbly.
"fire me if you like, my son," went on jim sullivan. "'tis true i've done what i had no right to do. mr. halsey, sir, i throwed her in!"
"you did what?"
"i throwed her in. an' she worked—she worked like a bird! then i throwed her out ag'in an' come away an' locked the door. tim was there, too. 'tis none of my business. but i've come to tell you the truth, an' you can fire me if you like! but it's hell, it's harnessed hell ye've got in there. an' others want to stale it."
by this time halsey was getting into his clothing and only half listening to what his foreman said.
"what kills me is, i can't see how she works! she runs by herself all the time, chuggin' like a fire ingin. but where does she git it?"
(rawn and virginia)
(rawn and virginia)
halsey made no answer. he was pale as a dead man. a few moments later they were hurrying down the stair, across the street, and through the long, deserted room with its rows of gaunt enginery. they stood before the completed receiver, whose motor so perfectly had caught the power of the free second current from the air—john rawn's costless, stolen power.
"what makes her go?" demanded jim sullivan. "fer what is the hole in the roof yon?"
halsey turned to him. "it's the mississippi river makes it go, jim. if we didn't leave a hole in the roof how could the river get through? now do you understand?"
"my boy," said jim kindly, laying a large hand on his shoulder, "you're off your nut, of course. i don't blame ye, workin' so long as ye have, an' worryin'. 'tis a rest ye must be takin' now, or they'll be puttin' ye in the bughouse fer fair!"
"you're right!" said halsey. "i think i'll just take a little ride this afternoon. jim, come here and help me. i want to see if we can charge up this electric car. if i can do that, jim, my boy, i'll be richer by six o'clock than either of us ever dreamed of being!"
shaking his head dubiously, the big foreman lent a hand, and between them they managed to roll the car into place.
"want to throw her down again, jim?" demanded halsey, motioning to the lever and grinning. that worthy shook his head.
"i'm scared of her, mr. halsey, that i am!"
"and well you may be!" was halsey's comment. he himself threw down an arm on the opposite side of the receiver. this time the motor did not resume its purring, the shaft did not revolve.
"she's bruk!" said jim. halsey only pointed to the blue tips of toothed ridge. "no," said he, "she's only doing another part of her work. the power is going into the auto's motor instead of this. two forms, you see, jim."
a faint spark showed at the transmitter connection. "come!" said halsey. "let her work! we don't need to now."
ix
that afternoon, charles halsey took his seat at the steering wheel of an electric car which had been charged with power taken from the air without wire transmission. his task was done. he had accomplished what he had started out to do. throbbing beneath him was power, the power of yonder distant silent partner, power taken from the earth, and the air, and the water; power of the elements; and power now definite, segregant, merchantable!
halsey kicked in the gear and rolled out into the street. pale, preoccupied, he hardly noted where he was going; but found himself half automatically directing the car through a maze of ill-paved, crowded thoroughfares; until at length he reached the west-side boulevard system. thence he crossed the river to the east, and headed north. strong and true, under a limit charge, the motor purred beneath him. the mechanism of the car operated without defect. nothing in the least seemed wrong at any particular, nor did the car in any particular differ in appearance from others of its humble and inconspicuous class.
x
none the less, midway of one of the large parks along the lake shore, young halsey suddenly disengaged the gear, cut off his power, and applied the brakes. he was perhaps half way from his home on the journey to graystone hall.... for a little time he sat in the car, pale, almost motionless, deep in thought; careless of the passing throng of other vehicles, the occupants of which regarded him curiously. then, suddenly, he threw in the gear again, turned on the current; and, quickly turning about, retraced his course. he had been gone less than an hour when he stood once more at the curb of his cottage near the factory in the western suburb of the city.
"so you're back again, sir!" commented jim sullivan. "an' did ye get all that sudden wealth ye was tellin' me about, at all?"
halsey sat staring at him for a time. "no," said he, "i've changed my mind. i'm going to wait a while."
the foreman turned and tiptoed off to find his wife. "annie," said he, his voice low and anxious, "try if ye can get the boss to bed, an' make him sleep as long as ever he can. he's goin' off his head, an' talkin' like a fool. somethin's wrong here, that's sure! hell's goin' to break loose, in yon facth'ry some day. but whativer comes, the boss is crazy!"
