 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Master of the World. By Jules Verne. CHAPTER I. What Happened in the Mountains If I speak of myself in this story, it is because I have been deeply involved in its startling events, events doubtless among the most extraordinary which this 20th century will witness. Sometimes I even ask myself if all this has really happened, if its pictures dwell in truth in my memory and not merely in my imagination. In my position as head inspector in the Federal Police Department at Washington, urged on moreover by the desire, which has always been very strong in me, to investigate and understand everything which is mysterious, I naturally became much interested in these remarkable occurrences. And as I have been employed by the government in various important affairs and secret missions since I was a mere lad, it also happened very naturally that the head of my department placed in my charge this astonishing investigation wherein I found myself wrestling with so many impenetrable mysteries. In the remarkable passages of the recital it is important that you should believe my word. For some of the facts I can bring no other testimony than my own. If you do not wish to believe me, so be it. I can scarce believe it all myself. The strange occurrences began in the western part of our great American state of North Carolina. There, deep amid the Blue Ridge Mountains, rises the crest called the Great Erie. Its huge rounded form is distinctly seen from the little town of Morganton on the Catawba River, and still more clearly as one approaches the mountains by way of the village of Pleasant Garden. Why the name of Great Erie was originally given this mountain by the people of the surrounding region, I'm not quite sure. It rises rocky and grim and inaccessible, and under certain atmospheric conditions has a peculiarly blue and distant effect. But the idea one would naturally get from the name is of a refuge for birds of prey, eagles, condors, vultures, the home of vast numbers of the feathered tribes, wheeling and screaming above peaks beyond the reach of man. Now the Great Erie did not seem particularly attractive to birds. On the contrary, the people of the neighborhood began to remark that on some days when birds approached its summit, they mounted still further, circled high above the crest, and then flew swiftly away, troubling the air with harsh cries. Why then the name Great Erie? Perhaps the mount might better have been called a crater, for in the center of those steep and rounded walls there might well be a huge deep basin. Perhaps there might even lie within their circuit a mountain lake, such as exist in other parts of the Appalachian mountain system, a lagoon fed by the rain and the winter snows. In brief was not this the sight of an ancient volcano, one which had slept through ages, but whose inner fires might yet reawake? Might not the Great Erie reproduce in its neighborhood the violence of Mount Krakatoa, or the terrible disaster of Mount Pele. If there were indeed a central lake, was there not danger that its waters, penetrating the strata beneath, would be turned to steam by the volcanic fires, and tear their way forth in a tremendous explosion, deluging the fair plains of Carolina with an eruption such as that of 1902 in Martinique? Indeed, with regard to this last possibility there have been certain symptoms recently observed which might well be due to volcanic action. Smoke had floated above the mountain, and once the country folk passing near had heard subterranean noises, unexplainable rumblings. A glow in the sky had crowned the height at night. When the wind blew the smoky cloud eastward toward Pleasant Garden, a few cinders and ashes drifted down from it, and finally one stormy night pale flames reflected from the clouds above the summit, cast upon the district below a sinister, warring light. In presence of these strange phenomena it is not astonishing that the people of the surrounding district became seriously disquieted, and to the disquiet was joined in imperious need of knowing the true condition of the mountain. The Carolina newspapers had flaring headlines. The mystery of great eerie! They asked if it was not dangerous to dwell in such a region. Their articles aroused curiosity and fear. Curiosity among those who, being in no danger themselves, were interested in the disturbance merely as a strange phenomenon of nature. Fear in those who were likely to be the victims if a catastrophe actually occurred. Those more immediately threatened were the citizens of Morganton, and even more the good folk of Pleasant Garden, and the hamlets and farms yet closer to the mountain. Assuredly it was regrettable that mountain climbers had not previously attempted to ascend to the summit of the great eerie. The cliffs of rock which surrounded it had never been scaled. Perhaps they might offer no path by which even the most daring climber could penetrate to the interior. Yet, if a volcanic eruption menaced all the western region of the Carolinas, then a complete examination of the mountain was become absolutely necessary. Now before the actual ascent of the crater, with its many serious difficulties, was attempted, there was one way which offered an opportunity of reconnoituring the interior without clambering up the precipices. In the first days of September of that memorable year, a well-known aeronaut named Wilker came to Morganton with his balloon. By waiting for a breeze from the east, he could easily rise in his balloon and drift over the great eerie. There from a safe height above he could search with a powerful glass into its deeps. Thus he would know if the mouth of a volcano really opened amid the mighty rocks. This was the principal question. If this were settled, it would be known if the surrounding country must fear any eruption at some period more or less distant. The ascension was begun according to the program suggested. The wind was fair and steady, the sky clear. The morning clouds were disappearing under the vigorous rays of the sun. If the interior of the great eerie was not filled with smoke, the aeronaut would be able to search with his glass its entire extent. If the vapours were rising, he no doubt could detect their source. The balloon rose at once to a height of 1500 feet and there rested almost motionless for a quarter of an hour. Evidently the east wind, which was brisk upon the surface of the earth, did not make itself felt at that height. Then, unlucky chance, the balloon was caught in an adverse current and began to drift toward the east. Its distance from the mountain chain rapidly increased. Despite all the efforts of the aeronaut, the citizens of Morganton saw the balloon disappear on the wrong horizon. Later they learned that it had landed in the neighborhood of Raleigh, the capital of North Carolina. This attempt having failed, it was agreed that it should be tried again under better conditions. Indeed, fresh rumblings were heard from the mountain, accompanied by heavy clouds and wavering glimmerings of light at night. Folk began to realize that the great eerie was a serious and perhaps imminent source of danger. Yes, the entire country lay under the threat of some seismic or volcanic disaster. During the first days of April of that year, these more or less vague apprehensions turned to actual panic. The newspapers gave prompt echo to the public terror. The entire district between the mountains and Morganton was sure that an eruption was at hand. The night of the 4th of April, the good folk of Pleasant Garden were awakened by a sudden uproar. They thought that the mountains were falling upon them. They rushed from their houses, ready for instant flight, fearing to see open before them some immense abyss, engulfing the farms and villages for miles around. The night was very dark. A weight of heavy clouds pressed down upon the plain. Even had it been day, the crest of the mountains would have been invisible. In the midst of this impenetrable obscurity, there was no response to the cries which arose from every side. Frightened groups of men, women, and children groped their ways along the black roads in wild confusion. From every quarter came the screaming voices, It is an earthquake! It is an eruption! Whence comes it? From the great Erie! In Morganton sped the news that stones, lava, ashes were raining down upon the country. Shrewd citizens of the town, however, observed that if there were an eruption the noise would have continued and increased. The flames would have appeared above the crater, or at least their lurid reflections would have penetrated the cloud. Now, even these reflections were no longer seen. If there had been an earthquake, the terrified people saw that at least their houses had not crumbled beneath the shock. It was possible that the uproar had been caused by an avalanche, the fall of some mighty rock from the summit of the mountains. An hour passed without other incident. A wind from the west sweeping over the long chain of the Blue Ridge set the pines and the hemlocks wailing on the higher slopes. There seemed no new cause for panic, and folk began to return to their houses. All, however, awaited impatiently the return of day. Then suddenly, toward three o'clock in the morning, another alarm! Flames leaped up above the rocky wall of the Great Erie. Reflected from the clouds, they illuminated the atmosphere for a great distance, a crackling as if of many burning trees was heard. Had a fire spontaneously broken out? And what cause was it due? Lightning could not have started the conflagration, for no thunder had been heard. True, there was plenty of material for fire. At this height the chain of the Blue Ridge is well wooded. But these flames were too sudden for any ordinary cause. An eruption! An eruption! The cry resounded from all sides. An eruption! The Great Erie was then indeed the crater of a volcano buried in the bowels of the mountains. And after so many years, so many ages even. Had it reawakened? Added to the flames, was a rain of stone and ashes about to follow? Were the lava's going to pour down torrents of molten fire, destroying everything in their passage, annihilating the towns, the villages, the farms, all this beautiful world of meadows, fields, and forests, even as far as Pleasant Garden and Morganton? This time the panic was overwhelming. Nothing could stop it. Women carrying their infants, crazed with terror, rushed along the eastward roads. Men, deserting their homes, made hurried bundles of their most precious belongings and set free their livestock, cows, sheep, pigs, which fled in all directions. What disorder resulted from this agglomeration, human and animal, under darkest night, amid forests, threatened by the fires of the volcano, along the border of marshes whose waters might be upheaved and overflow? Were the earth itself threatening to disappear from under the feet of the fugitives? Would they be in time to save themselves if a cascade of glowing lava came rolling down the slope of the mountain across their root? Nevertheless, some of the chief and shrewder farm owners were not swept away in this mad flight, which they did their best to restrain. Venturing within a mile of the mountain, they saw that the glare of the flames was decreasing. In truth it hardly seemed that the region was immediately menaced by any further upheaval. No stones were being hurled into space. No torrent of lava was visible upon the slopes. No rumblings rose from the ground. There was no further manifestation of any seismic disturbance capable of overwhelming the land. At length the flight of the fugitives ceased at a distance where they seemed secure from all danger. Then a few ventured back toward the mountain. Some farms were reoccupied before the break of day. By morning the crests of the gradiery showed scarcely the least remnant of its cloud of smoke. The fires were certainly at an end, and if it were impossible to determine their cause, one might at least hope they would not break out again. It appeared possible that the gradiery had not really been the theater of volcanic phenomena at all. There was no further evidence that the neighborhood was at the mercy either of eruptions or of earthquakes. Yet once more, about five o'clock, from beneath the ridge of the mountain, where the shadows of night still lingered, a strange noise swept across the air, a sort of whirring, accompanied by the beating of mighty wings. And had it been clear day, perhaps the farmers would have seen the passage of a mighty bird of prey, some monster of the skies, which having risen from the gradiery, sped away toward the east. THE MASTER OF THE WORLD By Jules Verne, chapter 2, I reach Morganton. The twenty-seventh of April, having left Washington the night before, I arrived at Raleigh, the capital of the state of North Carolina. Two days before, the head of the federal police had called me to his room. He was awaiting me with some impatience. John Strach said he, Are you still the man who on so many occasions has proven to me both his devotion and his ability? Mr. Ward, I answered with a bow, I cannot promise success or even ability, but as to devotion I assure you it is yours. I do not doubt it, responded the chief, and I will ask you instead this more exact question. Are you as fond of riddles as ever, as eager to penetrate into mysteries as I have known you before? I am, Mr. Ward. Good Strach, then listen. Mr. Ward, a man of about fifty years, of great power and intellect, was fully master of the important position he filled. He had several times entrusted to me difficult missions which I had accomplished successfully, and which had won me his confidence. For several months passed, however, he had found no occasion for my services. Therefore I awaited with impatience what he had to say. I did not doubt that his questioning implied a serious and important task for me. Doubtless you know, said he, what has happened down in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Morganton? Surely, Mr. Ward, the phenomena reported from there have been singular enough to arouse anyone's curiosity. They are singular, even remarkable, Strach. No doubt about that. But there is also reason to ask if these phenomena about the Great Erie are not a source of continued danger to the people there, if they are not forerunners of some disaster as terrible as it is mysterious. It is to be feared, sir. So we must know, Strach, what is inside of that mountain. If we are helpless in the face of some great force of nature, people must be warned in time of the danger which threatens them. It is clearly the duty of the authorities, Mr. Ward, responded I, to learn what is going on within there. True, Strach, but that presents great difficulties. Everyone reports that it is impossible to scale the precipices of the Great Erie and reach its interior. But has anyone ever attempted it with scientific appliances and under the best conditions? I doubt it, and believe a resolute attempt may bring success. Nothing is impossible, Mr. Ward. What we face here is merely a question of expense. We must not regard expense when we are seeking to reassure an entire population or to preserve it from a catastrophe. There is another suggestion I would make to you. Perhaps this Great Erie is not so inaccessible as is supposed. Perhaps a band of malifactors have secreted themselves there, gaining access by ways known only to themselves. What? You suspect that robbers... Perhaps I am wrong, Strach, and these strange sights and sounds have all had natural causes. Well, that is what we have to settle, and as quickly as possible. I have one question to ask. Go ahead, Strach. When the Great Erie has been visited, when we know the source of these phenomena, if there really is a crater there and an eruption is imminent, can we avert it? No, Strach, but we can estimate the extent of the danger. If some volcano in the Alleghenies threatens North Carolina with a disaster similar to that of Martinique, buried beneath the outpourings of Montpellet, then these people must leave their homes. I hope, sir, there is no such widespread danger. I think not, Strach. It seems to me highly improbable that an active volcano exists in the Blue Ridge Mountain chain. Our Appalachian mountain system is nowhere volcanic in its origin, but all these events cannot be without basis. In short, Strach, we have decided to make a strict inquiry into the phenomena of the Great Erie, to gather all the testimony, to question the people of the towns and farms. To do this I have made choice of an agent in whom we have full confidence, and this agent is you, Strach. Good! I am ready, Mr. Ward, cried I, and be sure that I shall neglect nothing to bring you full information. I know it, Strach, and I will add that I regard you as specially fitted for the work. You will have a splendid opportunity to exercise, and I hope to satisfy your favorite passion of curiosity. As you say, sir, you will be free to act according to circumstances, as to expenses, if there seems reason to organize an ascension-party, which will be costly. You have carte blanche. I will act as seems best, Mr. Ward. Let me caution you to act with all possible discretion. The people in the vicinity are already overexcited. It will be well to move secretly. Did I mention the suspicions I have suggested to you? And above all, avoid arousing any fresh panic. It is understood. You will be accredited to the mayor of Morganton. Who will assist you? Once more, be prudent, Strach, and acquaint no one with your mission, unless it is absolutely necessary. You have often given proofs of your intelligence and address, and this time I feel assured you will succeed. I asked him only, when shall I start? Tomorrow. Tomorrow I shall leave Washington, and the day after I shall be at Morganton. How little suspicion had I of what the future had in store for me! I returned immediately to my house, where I made my preparations for departure, and the next evening found me in Raleigh. There I passed the night, and in the course of the next afternoon arrived at the railroad station of Morganton. Morganton is but a small town, built upon strata of the Jurassic period, particularly rich in coal. Its mines give it some prosperity. It also has numerous unpleasant mineral waters, so that the season there attracts many visitors. Around Morganton is a rich farming country, with broad fields of grain. It lies in the midst of swamps covered with mosses and reeds. Evergreen forests rise high up the mountain slopes. All that the region lacks is the wells of natural gas, that invaluable natural source of power, light and worth, so abundant in most of the Allegheny valleys. Villages and farms are numerous up to the very borders of the mountain forests. Thus there were many thousands of people threatened, if the Great Erie proved indeed a volcano, if the convulsions of nature extended to Pleasant Garden and to Morganton. The mayor of Morganton, Mr. Elias Smith, was a tall man, vigorous and enterprising, forty years old or more, and of a health to defy all the doctors of the two Americas. He was a great hunter of bears and panthers, beasts which may still be found in the wild gorges and mighty forests of the Alleghenies. Mr. Smith was himself a rich landowner, possessing several farms in the neighborhood. Even his most distant tenants received frequent visits from him. Indeed, whenever his official duties did not keep him in his so-called home at Morganton, he was exploring the surrounding country, irresistibly drawn by the instincts of the hunter. I went at once to the house of Mr. Smith. He was expecting me, having been warned by Telegram. He received me very frankly, without any formality, his pipe in his mouth, a glass of brandy on the table. A second glass was brought in by a servant, and I had to drink to my host before beginning our interview. Mr. Ward sent you, said he to me in a jovial tone. Good, let us drink to Mr. Ward's health! I clinked glasses with him and drank in honor of the chief of police. Our now, demanded Elias Smith, what is worrying him? At this I made known to the mayor of Morganton the cause and the purpose of my mission in North Carolina. I assured him that my chief had given me full power and would render me every assistance, financial and otherwise, to solve the riddle and relieve the neighborhood of its anxiety relative to the great eerie. Elias Smith listened to me without uttering a word, but not without several times refilling his glass and mine. While he puffed steadily at his pipe, the close attention which he gave me was beyond question. I saw his cheeks flush at times, and his eyes gleam under their bushy brows. Evidently the chief magistrate of Morganton was uneasy about great eerie, and would be as eager as I to discover the cause of these phenomena. When I had finished my communication Elias Smith gazed at me for some moments in silence. Then he said, softly, So at Washington they wished to know what the great eerie hides within its circuit. Yes, Mr. Smith. And you also? I do. So do I, Mr. Stroke. He and I were as one in our curiosity. You will understand, added he, knocking the cinders from his pipe, That as a landowner I am much interested in these stories of the great eerie, And as mayor I wish to protect my constituents. A double reason, I commented, to stimulate you to discover the cause of these extraordinary occurrences. Without doubt, my dear Mr. Smith, they have appeared to you as inexplicable and as threatening as to your people. Unexplicable, certainly, Mr. Stroke. For on my part I do not believe it possible that the great eerie can be a volcano. The Alleghenies are nowhere of volcanic origins. I myself and our immediate district have never found any geological traces of scoria or lava or any eruptive rock whatever. I do not think, therefore, that Morganton can possibly be threatened from such a source. You really think not, Mr. Smith? Certainly. But these trembling of the earth that had been felt in the neighborhood. Yes, these tremblings, these tremblings, repeated Mr. Smith, shaking his head. But in the first place, is it certain that there have been tremblings? At the moment when the flame showed most sharply, I was on my farm of Wilden less than a mile from the great eerie. There was certainly a tumult in the air, but I felt no quivering of the earth. But in the reports sent to Mr. Ward, reports made under the impulse of the panic, interrupted the mayor of Morganton. I said nothing of any earth tremors in mind. But as to the flames which rose clearly above the crest? Yes. As to those, Mr. Stroke, that is different. I saw them. I saw them with my own eyes, and the clouds certainly reflected them for miles around. Moreover, noises certainly came from the crater of the great eerie, hissings, as if a great boiler were letting off steam. You have reliable testimony of this? Yes, the evidence of my own ears. And in the midst of all this noise, Mr. Smith, did you believe that you heard that most remarkable of all the phenomena, a sound like the flapping of great wings? I thought so, Mr. Stroke, but what mighty bird could this be, which sped away after the flames had died down, and what wings could ever make such tremendous sounds? I therefore seriously question if this must not have been a deception of my imagination. The great eerie, a refuge for unknown monsters of the sky? Would they not have been seen long since, soaring above their immense nest of stone? In short, there is in all this a mystery which has not yet been solved. But we will solve it, Mr. Smith, if you will give me your aid. Surely, Mr. Stroke, to-morrow we will start our campaign. To-morrow. And on that word the mayor and I separated. I went to a hotel, and established my self-force stay which might be indefinitely prolonged. Then, having dined, and written to Mr. Ward, I saw Mr. Smith again in the afternoon, and arranged to leave Morganton with him at daybreak. Our first purpose was to undertake the ascent of the mountain, with the aid of two experienced guides. These men had ascended Mount Mitchell and others of the highest peaks of the Blue Ridge. They had never, however, attempted the great eerie, knowing that its walls of inaccessible cliffs defended it on every side. Moreover, before the recent startling occurrences the great eerie had not particularly attracted the attention of tourists. Mr. Smith knew the two guides personally as men daring, skillful, and trustworthy. They would stop at no obstacle, and we were resolved to follow them through everything. Moreover, Mr. Smith remarked at the last that perhaps it was no longer as difficult as formerly to penetrate within the great eerie. And why? asked I. Because a huge block has recently broken away from the mountain side, and perhaps it has left a practicable path or entrance. That would be a fortunate chance, Mr. Smith. We shall know all about it, Mr. Strock, no later than to-morrow. Till to-morrow, then. End of chapter. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. THE MASTER OF THE WORLD by Jules Verne Chapter III The Great Eerie The next day at dawn, Elias Smith and I left Morganton by a road which, winding along the left bank of the Catawba River, led to the village of Pleasant Garden. The guides accompanied us. Harry Horn, a man of thirty, and James Bruck, aged twenty-five. They were both natives of the region, and in constant demand among the tourists who climbed the peaks of the Blue Ridge and Cumberland Mountains. A light wagon with two good horses was provided to carry us to the foot of the range. It contained provisions for two or three days, beyond which our trip surely would not be protracted. Mr. Smith had shown himself a generous provider both in meats and in liquors. As to water, the mountain springs would furnish it in abundance, increased by the heavy rains frequent in that region during springtime. It is needless to ask that the mayor of Morganton and his role of hunter had brought along his gun and his dog, Nisco, who gambled joyously about the wagon. Nisco, however, was to remain behind at the farm at Wilden when we attempted our ascent. He could not possibly follow us to the Great Erie with its cliffs to scale and its crevasses to cross. The day was beautiful. The fresh air in that climate is still cool over an April morning. A few fleecy clouds sped rapidly overhead, driven by a light breeze which swept across the long plains from the distant Atlantic. The sun peeping forth the intervals illumined all the fresh young verdure of the countryside. An entire world animated the woods through which we passed. From before our equipage fled squirrels, field mice, parakeets of brilliant colors and deafening locacity. Apostles passed and hurried leaps, bearing their young in their pouches. Myriads of birds were scattered amid the foliage of banyons, palms and masses of rhododendrons, so luxuriant that their thickets were impenetrable. We arrived that evening at Pleasant Garden, where we were comfortably located for the night with the mayor of the town, a particular friend of Mr. Smith. Pleasant Garden proved little more than a village, but its mayor gave us a warm and generous reception, and we supped pleasantly in his charming home which stood beneath the shades of some giant beech trees. Naturally the conversation turned upon our attempt to explore the interior of the Great Erie. You are right, said our host, until we all know what is hidden within there our people will remain uneasy. Has nothing new occurred? I asked, since the last appearance of flames above the Great Erie. Nothing, Mr. Strock, from Pleasant Garden we can see the entire crest of the mountain. Not a suspicious noise has come down to us. Not a spark has risen. If a legion of devils is in hiding there they must have finished their infernal cookery and soared away to some other haunt. Devils! cried Mr. Smith. Well, I hope they have not de-camped without leaving some traces of their occupation, some pairings of hoofs or horns or tails. We shall find them out. On the morrow, the twenty-ninth of April, we started again at dawn. By the end of this second day we expected to reach the farm of Wilden at the foot of the mountain. The country was much the same as before, except that our road led more steeply upward. Woods and marshes alternated, although the latter grew sparser being drained by the sun as we approached the higher levels. The country was also less populous. There were only a few little hamlets almost lost beneath the beech trees, a few lonely farms abundantly watered by the many streams that rushed downward toward the Catawba River. The smaller birds and bees grew yet more numerous. I am much tempted to take my gun, said Mr. Smith, and to go off with Nisco. This will be the first time that I have passed here without trying my luck with the partridges and hairs. The good bees will not recognize me, but not only have we plenty of provisions, but we have a bigger chase on hand today, the chase of a mystery. And let us hope, added I, we do not come back disappointed hunters. In the afternoon the whole chain of the Blue Ridge stretched before us at a distance of only six miles. The mountain crests were sharply outlined against the clear sky. Well wooded at the base they grew more bare and showed only stunted evergreens toward the summit. There the scraggly trees grotesquely twisted, gave to the rocky heights a bleak and bizarre appearance. Here and there the ridge rose in sharp peaks. On our right the black dome nearly seven thousand feet high reared its gigantic head, sparkling at times above the clouds. Have you ever climbed that dome, Mr. Smith? I asked. No, answered he, but I am told that it is a very difficult ascent. A few mountaineers have climbed it, but they report that it has no outlook commanding the crater of the Great Erie. That is so, said the guide, Harry Horn, I have tried it myself. Perhaps, suggested I, the weather was unfavorable. On the contrary, Mr. Strock, it was unusually clear. But the wall of the Great Erie on that side rose so high it completely hid the interior. Forward, cried Mr. Smith, I shall not be sorry to set foot where no person has ever stepped or even looked before. Certainly on this day the Great Erie looked tranquil enough. As we gazed upon it, there rose from its heights neither smoke nor flame. Toward five o'clock our expedition halted at the Wilden Farm, where the tenants warmly welcomed their landlord. The farmer assured us that nothing notable had happened about the Great Erie for some time. We supped at a common table with all the people of the farm, and our sleep that night was sound and wholly untroubled by premonitions of the future. On the morrow, before break of day, we set out for the ascent of the mountain. The height of the Great Erie scare succeeds five thousand feet. A modest altitude often surpassed in this section of the Alleghenies. As we were already more than three thousand feet above sea level, the fatigue of the ascent could not be great. A few hours should suffice to bring us to the crest of the crater. Of course, difficulties might present themselves, precipices to scale, cliffs and breaks in the ridge which might necessitate painful and even dangerous detours. This was the unknown, the spur to our attempt. As I said, our guides knew no more than we upon this point. What made me anxious was, of course, the common report that the Great Erie was wholly inaccessible. But this remained unproven. And then there was the new chance that a fallen block had left a breach in the rocky wall. I'd lashed, said Mr. Smith to me, after lighting the first pipe of the twenty or more which he smoked each day. We are well started, as to whether the ascent will take more or less time. In any case, Mr. Smith, interrupted I. You and I are fully resolved to pursue our quest to the end. Fully resolved, Mr. Strock. My chief has charged me to snatch the secret from this demon of the Great Erie. We will snatch it from him, willing or unwilling, vowed Mr. Smith, calling heaven to witness, even if we have to search the very bowels of the mountain. As it may happen, then, said I, that our excursion will be prolonged beyond today, it will be well to look to our provisions. Be easy, Mr. Strock. Our guides have food for two days in their knapsacks, besides what we carry ourselves. Moreover, though I left my brave nisco at the farm, I have my gun. Game will be plentiful in the woods and gorges of the lower part of the mountain, perhaps at the top we shall find a fire to cook it, already lighted. Already lighted, Mr. Smith? And why not, Mr. Strock, these flames, these superb flames, which have so terrified our country-folk? Is their fire absolutely cold? Is no spark to be found beneath their ashes? And then, if this is truly a crater, is the volcano so wholly extinct that we cannot find there a single ember? Bah! This would be but a poor volcano, if it hasn't enough fire even to cook an egg or roast a potato. Come, I repeat, we shall see. We shall see. At that point in the investigation I had, I confess, no opinion formed. I had my orders to examine the Great Erie. If it proved harmless I would announce it, and people would be reassured. But at heart I must admit, I had the very natural desire of a man possessed by the demon of curiosity. I should be glad both for my own sake and for the renown which would attach to my mission if the Great Erie proved the centre of the most remarkable phenomena, of which I would discover their cause. Our assent began in this order. The two guides went in front to seek out the most practicable paths. Elias Smith and I followed more leisurely. We mounted by a narrow and not very steep gorge, amid rocks and trees. A tiny stream trickled downward under our feet. During the rainy season, or after a heavy shower, the water doubtless bounded from rock to rock in tumultuous cascades. But it evidently was fed only by the rain, for now we could scarcely trace its course. It could not be the outlet of any lake within the Great Erie. After an hour of climbing the slope became so steep that we had to turn now to the right, now to the left, and our progress was much delayed. Soon the gorge became wholly impracticable. Its cliff-like sides offered no sufficient foothold. We had to cling by branches to crawl upon our knees. At this rate the top would not be reached before sundown. "'Fearth!' cried Mr. Smith, stopping for breath. I realize why the climbers of the Great Erie have been few, so few, that it has never been ascended within my knowledge.' "'The fact is,' I responded, that it would be much toil for very little profit, and if we had not special reasons to persist in our attempt.' "'You have never said a truer word,' declared Harry Horne. My comrade and I have scaled the black dome several times, but we have never met such obstacles as these.' "'The difficulty seemed almost impassable,' added James Brooke. The question now was to determine to which side we should turn for a new route. To right, as to left arose impenetrable masses of trees and bushes. In truth even the scaling of cliffs would have been more easy. Perhaps if we could get above this wooded slope we could advance with sureer foot. Now we could only go ahead blindly and trust to the instincts of our two guides. James Brooke was especially useful. I believe that that gallant lad would have equaled a monkey in lightness and a wild goat in agility. Unfortunately, neither Elias Smith nor I were able to climb where he could. However, when it is a matter of real need with me, I trust I shall never be backward, being resolute by nature, and well trained in bodily exercise. Where James Brooke went, I was determined to go also. Though it might cost me some uncomfortable falls. But it was not the same with the first magistrate of Morganton, less young, less vigorous, larger, stouter, and less persistent than we others. Plainly he made every effort not to retard our progress, but he panted like a seal, and soon I insisted on his stopping to rest. In short it was evident that the assent of the great Erie would require far more time than we had estimated. We had expected to reach the foot of the rocky wall before eleven o'clock, but we now saw that midday would still find us several hundred feet below it. Toward ten o'clock, after repeated attempts to discover some more practicable route, after numberless turnings and re-turnings, one of the guides gave the signal to halt. We found ourselves at last on the upper border of the heavy wood. The trees, more thinly spaced, permitted us a glimpse upward to the base of the rocky wall which constituted the true great Erie. Phew! exclaimed Mr. Smith, leaning against a mighty pine-tree. A little respite, a little repose, and even a little repast would not go badly. We will rest an hour, said I. Yes, after working our lungs and our legs, we will make our stomachs work. We were all agreed on this point. Our rest would certainly freshen us. Our only cause for inquiitude was now the appearance of the precipitous slope above us. We looked up towards one of those bare strips called in that region slides, amid this loose earth, these yielding stones and these abrupt rocks. There was no roadway. Harry Horne said to his comrade, It will not be easy. Perhaps impossible, responded Brooke. Their comments caused me secret uneasiness. If I returned without even having scaled the mountain, my mission would be a complete failure, without speaking of the torture to my curiosity. And when I stood again before Mr. Ward, shamed and confused, I should cut but a sorry figure. We opened our knapsacks and lunched moderately on bread and cold meat. Our repast finished in less than half an hour. Mr. Smith sprang up eager to push forward once more. James Brooke took the lead, and we had only to follow him as best we could. We advanced slowly. Our guides did not attempt to conceal their doubt and hesitation. Soon Horne left us and went far ahead to spy out which road promised most chance of success. Twenty minutes later he returned and led us onward toward the northwest. It was on this side that the black dome rose at a distance of three or four miles. Our path was still difficult and painful. Amid the sliding stones, held in place only occasionally by wiry brushes. At length, after a weary struggle, we gained some 200 feet further upward and found ourselves facing a great gash which broke the earth at this spot. Here and there were scattered roots recently uptorn, branches broken off, huge stones reduced to powder as if an avalanche had rushed down this flank of the mountain. That must be the path taken by the huge block which broke away from the great hearry, commented James Brooke. No doubt, answered Mr. Smith, and I think we had better follow the road that it has made for us. It was indeed this gash that Harry Horne had selected for our ascent. Our feet found lodgemen in the firmer earth which had resisted the passage of the monster rock. Our task thus became much easier, and our progress was in a straight line upward, so that toward half past eleven we reached the upper border of the slide. Before us, less than a hundred feet away, but towering a hundred feet straight upwards in the air, rose the rocky wall which formed the final crest, the last defense of the great hearry. From this side the summit of the wall showed capriciously irregular, rising in rude towers and jagged needles. At one point the outline appeared to be an enormous eagle silhouetted against the sky, just ready to take flight. Upon this side, at least, the precipice was insurmountable. Rushed a minute, said Mr. Smith, and we will see if it is possible to make our way around the base of this cliff. At any rate, said Harry Horne, the great block must have fallen from this part of the cliff and has left no breach for entering. They were both right. We must seek entrance elsewhere. After a rest of ten minutes we clambered up close to the foot of the wall and began to make a circuit of its base. Assuredly the great hearry now took on, to my eyes, an aspect absolutely fantastic. Its heights seemed peopled by dragons and huge monsters. If chimeras, griffins, and all the creations of mythology had appeared to guard it, I should have been scarcely surprised. With great difficulty, and not without danger, we continued our tour of this circumvalation, where it seemed that nature had worked as man does, with careful regularity. Nowhere was there any break in the fortification. Nowhere a fault in the strata by which one might clamber up. Always this mighty wall a hundred feet in height. After an hour and a half of this laborious circuit, we regained our starting place. I could not conceal my disappointment, and Mr. Smith was not less chagrin than I. A thousand devils, cried he. We know no better than before what is inside this confounded great eary, nor even if it is a crater. Volcano or not, said I, there are no suspicious noises now, neither smoke nor flame rises above it. Nothing whatever threatens an eruption. This was true. A profound silence reigned around us, and a perfectly clear sky shone overhead. We tasted the perfect calm of great altitudes. It was worth noting that the circumference of the huge wall was about twelve or fifteen hundred feet. As to the space enclosed within, we could scarce reckon that without knowing the thickness of the encompassing wall. The surroundings were absolutely deserted. Probably not a living creature ever mounted to this height, except the few birds of prey which soared high above us. Our watches showed three o'clock, and Mr. Smith cried and discussed, What is the use of stopping here all day? We shall learn nothing more. We must make a start, Mr. Strock, if we want to get back to Pleasant Garden tonight. I made no answer, and did not move from where I was seated. So he called again. Come, Mr. Strock, you don't answer. In truth, it cut me deeply to abandon our effort, to descend the slope without having achieved my mission. I felt an imperious need of persisting. My curiosity had redoubled. But what could I do? Could I tear open this unyielding earth? Overleap the mighty cliff? Throwing one last defiant glare at the great eerie, I followed my companions. The return was effected without great difficulty. We had only to slide down where we had so laboriously scrambled up. Before five o'clock we descended the last slopes of the mountain, and the farmer of Wildon welcomed us to a much-needed meal. Then you didn't get inside? Said he. No, responded Mr. Smith. And I believe that the inside exists only in the imagination of our countryfolk. At half-past eight our carriage drew up before the house of the mayor of Pleasant Garden, where we passed the night. While I strove vainly to sleep, I asked myself if I should not stop there in the village and organize a new assent. But what better chance had it of succeeding than the first? The wisest course was doubtless to return to Washington and consult Mr. Ward. So the next day, having rewarded our two guides, I took leave of Mr. Smith at Morganton, and that same evening left by train for Washington. Chapter 4 A Meeting of the Automobile Club Was the mystery of the great eerie to be solved some day by chances beyond our imagining? That was known only to the future. And was the solution a matter of the first importance? That was beyond doubt, since the safety of the people of western Carolina perhaps depended upon it. Yet a fortnight after my return to Washington public attention was wholly distracted from this problem by another very different in nature but equally astonishing. Toward the middle of that month of May, the newspapers of Pennsylvania informed their readers of some strange occurrences in different parts of the state. On the roads which radiated from Philadelphia, the chief city, there circulated an extraordinary vehicle of which no one could describe the form or the nature or even the size so rapidly did it rush past. It was an automobile, all were agreed on that, but as to what motor drove it only imagination could say, and when the popular imagination is aroused what limit is there to its hypotheses? At that period the most improved automobiles, whether driven by steam, gasoline or electricity, could not accomplish much more than 60 miles an hour, a speed that the railroads with their most rapid expresses scare succeed on the best lines of America and Europe. Now this new automobile which was astonishing the world traveled it more than double the speed. It is needless to add that such a rate constituted an extreme danger on the high roads, as much so for vehicles as for pedestrians. This rushing mass coming like a thunderbolt preceded by a formidable rumbling caused a whirlwind which tore the branches from the trees along the road, terrified the animals browsing in adjoining fields, and scattered and killed the birds which could not resist the suction of the tremendous air currents engendered by its passage. And a bizarre detail to which the newspapers drew particular attention, the surface of the roads was scarcely even scratched by the wheels of the apparition which left behind it no such ruts as are usually made by heavy vehicles. At most there was a light touch, a mere brushing of the dust. It was only the tremendous speed which raised behind the vehicle such whirlwinds of dust. It is probable, commented the New York Herald, that the extreme rapidity of motion destroys the weight. Naturally there were protests from all sides. It was impossible to permit the mad speed of this apparition which threatened to overthrow and destroy everything in its passage. Equipages and people. But how could it be stopped? No one knew to whom the vehicle belonged, nor whence it came, nor whither it went. It was seen but for an instant as it darted forward like a bullet in its dizzy flight. How could one seize a cannon-ball in the air as it leaped from the mouth of the gun? I repeat, there was no evidence to the character of the propelling engine. It left behind it no smoke, no steam, no odor of gasoline, or any other oil. It seemed probable, therefore, that the vehicle ran by electricity and that its accumulators were of an unknown model using some unknown fluid. The public imagination highly excited, readily accepted every sort of rumor about this mysterious automobile. It was said to be a supernatural car. It was driven by a specter, by one of the chauffeurs of hell, a goblin from another world, a monster escaped from some mythological menagerie, in short, the devil in person, who could defy all human intervention having at his command invisible and infinite satanic powers. But even Satan himself had no right to run at such a speed over the roads of the United States without a special permit, without a number on his car, and without a regular license. And it was certain that not a single municipality had given him permission to go two hundred miles an hour. Public security demanded that some means be found to amass the secret of this terrible chauffeur. Moreover, it was not only Pennsylvania that served as the theatre of his sport of eccentricities. The police reported his appearance in other states, in Kentucky near Frankfurt, in Ohio near Columbus, in Tennessee near Nashville, in Missouri near Jefferson, and finally in Illinois and the neighborhood of Chicago. The alarm having been given, it became the duty of the authorities to take steps against this public danger. To arrest or even to halt an apparition moving at such a speed was scarcely practicable. A better way would be to erect across the roads solid gateways with which the flying machine must come in contact sooner or later and be smashed into a thousand pieces. Nonsense, declared the incredulous, this madman would know well how to circle around such obstructions. And if necessary, added others, the machine would leap over the barriers. And if he is indeed the devil he has as a former angel presumably preserved his wings and so he will take to flight. But this last was but the suggestion of foolish old gossips who did not stop to study the matter. For if the king of Hades possessed a pair of wings, why did he obstinately persist in running around on the earth at the risk of crushing his own subjects when he might more easily have hurled himself through space as free as a bird? Such was the situation when, in the last week of May, a fresh event occurred which seemed to show that the United States was indeed helpless in the hands of so unapproachable monster. And after the New World, would not the old in its turn be desecrated by the mad career of this remarkable automobile-ist? The following occurrence was reported in all the newspapers of the Union and with what comments and outcries it is easy to imagine. A race was to be held by the automobile club of Wisconsin over the roads of that state of which Madison is the capital. The route laid out formed an excellent track about 200 miles in length, starting from Prairie du Chien on the western frontier, passing by Madison and ending a little above Milwaukee on the borders of Lake Michigan. Except for the Japanese road between Niko and Namode, bordered by giant cypresses, there is no better track in the world than this of Wisconsin. It runs straight and level as an arrow for sometimes 50 miles at a stretch. Many and noted were the machines entered for this great race. Every kind of motor vehicle was permitted to compete, even motorcycles as well as automobiles. The machines were of all makes and nationalities. The sum of the different prizes reached $50,000 so that the race was sure to be desperately contested. New records were expected to be made. Calculating on the maximum speed hitherto attained of perhaps 80 miles an hour, this international contest covering 200 miles would last about three hours. And to avoid all danger, the state authorities of Wisconsin had forbidden all other traffic between Prairie Duchenne and Milwaukee during three hours on the morning of the 30th of May. Thus, if there were any accidents, those who suffered would be themselves to blame. There was an enormous crowd, and it was not composed only of the people of Wisconsin. Many thousands gathered from the neighboring states of Illinois, Michigan, Iowa, Indiana and even from New York. Among the sportsman assembled were many foreigners, English, French, Germans and Austrians, each nationality of course, supporting the chauffeurs of its land. Moreover, as this was the United States, the country of the greatest gamblers of the world, bets were made of every sort and of enormous amounts. The start was to be made at eight o'clock in the morning. And to avoid crowding and the accidents which must result were to follow each other at two-minute intervals along the roads whose borders were black with spectators. The first ten racers numbered by lot were dispatched between eight o'clock and twenty minutes past. Unless there was some disastrous accident, some of these machines would surely arrive at the goal by eleven o'clock. The others followed in order. An hour and a half had passed. There remained but a single contestant at Prairie Duchamp. Word was sent back and forth by telephone every five minutes as to the order of the racers. Midway between Madison and Milwaukee, the lead was held by a machine of Renault brothers, four-cylindered, of twenty horsepower and with Michelin tires. It was closely followed by a Harvard Watson car and by a Dion bouton. Some accidents had already occurred. Other machines were hopelessly behind. Not more than a dozen would contest the finish. Several chauffeurs had been injured, but not seriously. And even had they been killed, the death of men is but a detail, not considered of great importance in that astonishing country of America. Naturally the excitement became more intense as one approached the finishing line near Milwaukee. There was assembled the most curious, the most interested, the passions of the moment were unchained. By ten o'clock it was evident that the first prize, twenty thousand dollars, lay between five machines, two American, two French, and one English. Imagine therefore the fury with which bets were being made under the influence of national pride. The regular bookmakers could scarcely meet the demands of those who wished to wager. Offers and amounts were hurled lip to lip with feverish rapidity. One to three on the Harvard Watson. One to two on the Diombotan. Even money on the Rinalt. These cries rang along the line of spectators at each new announcement from the telephones. Suddenly, at half-past nine by the town clock of Prairie du Chien, two miles beyond that town was heard a tremendous noise and a rumbling which proceeded from the midst of a flying cloud of dust accompanied by shrieks like those of a naval siren. Scarcely had the crowds time to draw to one side to escape a destruction which would have included hundreds of victims. The clouds swept by like a hurricane. No one could distinguish what it was that passed with such speed. There was no exaggeration in saying that its rate was at least one hundred and fifty miles an hour. The apparition passed and disappeared in an instant leaving behind it a long train of white dust as an express locomotive leaves behind a train of smoke. Evidently it was an automobile with a most extraordinary motor. If it maintained this arrow-like speed it would reach the contestants in the forefront of the race. It would pass them with this speed double their own. It would arrive first at the goal. And then from all parts arose an uproar as soon as the spectators had nothing more to fear. It is that infernal machine! Yes, the one the police cannot stop. But it has not been heard of for a fortnight. But it was supposed to be done for, destroyed, gone forever. It is a devil's car driven by hell-fire and with Satan driving. In truth if he were not the devil could this mysterious chauffeur be driving with this unbelievable velocity, his no less mysterious machine? At least it was beyond doubt that this was the same machine which had already attracted so much attention. If the police believed that they had frightened it away that it was never to be heard of more well, the police were mistaken which happens in America as elsewhere. The first stunned moment was a surprise having passed. Many people rushed to the telephones to warn those further along the route of the danger which menaced. Not only the people, but also the automobiles scattered along the road. When this terrible madman arrived like an avalanche they would be smashed to pieces ground into powder, annihilated. And from the collision might not the destroyer himself emerge safe and sound? He must be so adroit the chauffeur of chauffeurs he must handle his machine with such perfection of eye and hand that he knew no doubt how to escape from every situation. Fortunately the Wisconsin authorities had taken such precautions that the road would be clear except for contesting automobiles. But what right had this machine among them? And what said the racers themselves who, warned by telephone had to shear aside from the road a struggle for the grand prize? By their estimate this amazing vehicle was going at least 130 miles an hour. Fast as was their speed it shot by them at such a rate that they could hardly make out even the shape of the machine a sort of lengthened spindle probably not over 30 feet long. Its wheels spun with such velocity that they could scarce be seen. For the rest the machine left nor sent. As for the driver, hidden in the interior of his machine he had been quite invisible. He remained as unknown as when he had first appeared on the various roads throughout the country. Milwaukee was properly warned of the coming of this interloper. Fancy the excitement the news caused. The immediate purpose agreed upon was to stop this projectile to erect across its root and advance which it would smash into a thousand pieces. But was there time? Would not the machine appear at any moment? And what need was there since the track ended on the edge of Lake Michigan and so the vehicle would be forced to stop there anyway unless its supernatural driver could ride the water as well as the land? Here also, as all along the route, the most extravagant suggestions were offered. Even those who would not admit that the mysterious chauffeur must be Satan in person allowed that he might be some monster escape from the fantastic visions of the apocalypse. And now there were no longer minutes to wait any second might bring the expected apparition. It was not yet eleven o'clock when a rumbling was heard far down the track and the dust rose in violent whirlwinds. Harsh whistlings shriek and tear warning all to give passage to the monster. It did not slacken speed at the finish. Lake Michigan was not half a mile beyond and the machine must certainly be hurled into the water. Could it be that the mecanician was no longer master of his mechanism? There could be little doubt of it. Like a shooting star the vehicle flashed through Milwaukee. When it had passed the city would it plunge itself to destruction in the waters of Lake Michigan? At any rate when it disappeared at a slight bend in the road no trace was to be found of its passage. At the time when the newspapers were filled with these reports I was again in Washington. On my return I had presented myself at my chief's office but had been unable to see him. Family affairs had suddenly called him away to be absent some weeks. Mr. Ward, however, undoubtedly knew of the failure of my mission. The newspapers, especially those of North Carolina, had given full details of our ascent at the Great Erie. Naturally I was much annoyed by this delay which further fretted my restless curiosity. I could turn to no other plans for the future. Could I give up the hope of learning the secret of the Great Erie? No. I would return to the attack a dozen times, if necessary, and despite every failure. Surely the winning of access within those walls was not a task a scaffolding might be raised to the summit of the cliff or a tunnel might be pierced through its depth. Our engineers met problems more difficult every day. But in this case it was necessary to consider the expense which might easily grow out of proportion to the advantages to be gained. A tunnel would cost many thousand dollars and what good would it accomplish beyond satisfying it? My personal resources were wholly insufficient for the achievement. Mr. Ward, who held the government's funds, was away. I even thought of trying to interest some millionaire. Oh, if I could, but have promised one of them some gold or silver mines within the mountain. But such an hypothesis was not admissible. The chain of the Appalachians is not situated in a gold-bearing or Australia. It was not until the 15th of June that Mr. Ward returned to duty. Despite my lack of success he received me warmly. Here is our poor struck!" cried he at my entrance. Our poor struck! Who has failed? No more, Mr. Ward, than if you had charged me to investigate the surface of the moon. We found ourselves face to face with purely natural obstacles, insurmountable with the forces then at our command. I do not doubt that struck. I do not doubt that in the least. Nevertheless the fact remains that you have discovered nothing of what is going on within the great eerie. Nothing, Mr. Ward. You saw no sign of fire? None. And you heard no suspicious noises whatever? None. If there is really a volcano there? Still uncertain, Mr. Ward. But if it is there we have good reason to believe that it is sunk into a profound sleep. Still, return, Mr. Ward, there is nothing to show that it will not wake up again any day, struck. It is not enough that a volcano should sleep. It must be absolutely extinguished unless indeed all these threatening things happen. It is not possible, Mr. Ward. It is not possible in the Carolinian imagination. That is not possible, sir, I said. Both Mr. Smith, the mayor of Morganton, and his friend, the mayor of Pleasant Garden, are reliable men, and they speak from their own knowledge in this matter. Flames have certainly risen above the great eerie. I admit that the evidence is unassailable. So the deduction to be drawn is that the great eerie has not yet given up its secret. If we are determined to know it, Mr. Ward, the solution is only a solution of expense. Pickaxes and dynamite would soon conquer those walls. No doubt," responded the chief. But such an undertaking hardly seems justified since the mountain is now quiet. We will wait a while. Perhaps Nature herself will disclose her mystery. Mr. Ward, believe me that I regret deeply that I have been unable to solve the problem you entrusted to me," I said. Nonsense! Do not upset yourself, struck. Take your defeat philosophically. We cannot always be successful, even in the police. How many criminals escape us? I believe we should never run of them if they were a little more intelligent and less imprudent and if they did not compromise themselves so stupidly. Nothing, it seems, to me would be easier than to plan a crime, a theft or an assassination, and to execute it without arousing any suspicions or leaving any traces to be followed. You understand, struck. I do not want to give our criminals lessons. I much prefer to have them remain silent. Nevertheless, there are many whom the police will never be able to track down. On this matter I shared absolutely the opinion of my chief. It is among rascals that one finds the most fools. For this very reason I had been much surprised that none of the authorities had been able to throw any light upon the recent performances of the demon automobile, and when Mr. M. M. my astonishment. He pointed out that the vehicle was practically unpursuable, that in its earlier appearances it had apparently vanished from all roads even before a telephone message could be sent ahead. Active and numerous police agents had been spread throughout the country, but no one of them had encountered the delinquent. He did not move continuously from place to place, even at his amazing speed, but seemed to appear only for a moment and then to vanish into thin air. True, he had at length remained visible along the entire route from Prairie du Chant to Milwaukee, and he had covered in less than an hour and a half this track of two hundred miles. But since then there had been no news whatever of the machine. Arrived at the end of the route driven onward by its own impetus unable to stop, had it indeed been engulfed within the waters of Lake Michigan? Must we conclude that the machine and its driver had both perished, that there was no longer any danger to be feared from either? The great majority of the public refused to accept this conclusion. They fully expected the machine to reappear. Mr. Ward frankly admitted that the whole matter seemed to him most extraordinary, and I shared his view. Assuredly, if this infernal did not return, his apparition would have to be placed among those superhuman mysteries which it has not given to men to understand. We had fully discussed this affair, the Chief and I, and I thought that our interview was at an end when, after pacing the room for a few moments, he said abruptly, Yes, what happened there at Milwaukee was very strange, but here is something no less so. With this he handed me a report which he had received from Boston on a subject of which the evening papers had just begun to apprise their readers. While I read it, Mr. Ward was summoned from the room. I seated myself by the window and studied with extreme attention the matter of the report. For some days the waters along the coast of Maine, Connecticut and Massachusetts had been the scene of an appearance which no one could exactly describe. The moving body would appear amid the waters some two or three miles offshore and go through rapid evolutions. It would flash for a while back and forth among the waves and then dart out of sight. The body moved with such lightning speed that the best telescopes could hardly follow it. Its length did not seem to exceed thirty feet. Its cigar-shaped form and greenish color made it difficult to see the ocean. It had been most frequently observed along the coast between Cape Cod and Nova Scotia. From Providence, from Boston, from Portsmouth, and from Portland motor boats and steam launches had repeatedly attempted to approach the smoothing body and even to give it chase. They could not get anywhere near it. Pursuit seemed useless. It darted like an arrow beyond the range of view. Finally, widely differing opinions were held as to the nature of this object. But no hypothesis rested on any secure basis. Seamen were as much at a loss as others. At first sailors thought it must be some great fish, like a whale. But it is well known that all these animals come to the surface with a certain regularity to breathe and spout up columns of mingled air and water. Now, this strange animal, had never blown, as the whalers say, nor had it ever made any noises of breathing. Yet if it were not one of these huge marine mammals, how was this unknown monster to be classed? Did it belong among the legendary dwellers in the deep, the cracons, the octopuses, the leviathans, the famous sea serpents? At any rate, since this monster, whatever it was, had appeared along the New England shores, the little fishing-smacks and pleasure-boats dared not venture forth. Wherever it appeared, the boats fled to the nearest harbour, as was but prudent. If the animal was of a ferocious character, none cared to await its attack. As to the large ships and coast steamers, they had nothing to fear from any monster, whale or otherwise. Several of them had seen this creature at a distance of some miles, but when they attempted to approach, it fled rapidly away. One day even a fast United States gunboat went out from Boston if not to pursue the monster at least to send after it a few cannons shot. Almost instantly the animal disappeared and the attempt was vain. As yet, however, the monster had shown no intention of attacking either boats or people. At this moment Mr. Ward returned and I interrupted my reading to say, There seems as yet no reason to complain of this sea serpent. It flees before big ships. It does not pursue little ones. Feeling and intelligence are not very strong in fishes. Yet their emotions exist struck and if strongly aroused. But Mr. Ward, the beast seems not at all dangerous. One or two things will happen. Either it will presently quit these coasts or finally it will be captured and we shall be able to study it at our leisure here in the museum at Washington. And if it is not a marine animal asked Mr. Ward, What else can it be? I protested in surprise. Finish your reading said Mr. Ward. I did so and found that in the second part of the report my chief had underlined some passages in red pencil. For some time no one had doubted that this was an animal and that if it were vigorously pursued it would at last be driven from our shores. But a change of opinion had come about. People began to ask if, instead of a fish, this were not some new and remarkable kind of boat. Certainly in that case its engine must be one of amazing power. Perhaps the inventor during the secret of his invention sought to attract public attention and to astound the maritime world. Such surety in the movements of his boat graced in its every evolution such ease in defying pursuit by its arrow-like speed surely these were enough to arouse worldwide curiosity. At that time great progress had been made in the manufacture of marine engines. Huge transatlantic steamers completed the ocean passage in five days and the engineers had not yet spoken their last word. Neither were the navies of the world behind the cruisers, the torpedo boats, the torpedo destroyers could match the swiftest steamers of the Atlantic and Pacific or of the Indian trade. If however this were a boat of some new design there had as yet been no opportunity to observe its form. Once drove it they must be of a power far beyond the fastest known. By what force they worked was equally a problem. Since the boat had no sails it was not driven by the wind and since it had no smokestack it was not driven by steam. At this point in the report I again paused in my reading and considered the comet I wished to make. What are you puzzling over, Strach? demanded my chief. It is this, Mr. Ward the motive power of this so-called boat must be as tremendous and as unknown as that of the remarkable automobile which has so amazed us all. So that is your idea. Is it Strach? Yes, Mr. Ward. There was but one conclusion to be drawn. If the mysterious chauffeur had disappeared if he had perished with his machine in Lake Michigan it was equally important now to win the secret of this and it must be won before he and his turn plunged into the abyss of the ocean. Was it not the interest of the inventor to disclose his invention? Would not the American government or any other give him any price he chose to ask? Yet unfortunately since the inventor of the terrestrial apparition had persisted in preserving his incognito was it not to be feared that the inventor of the marine apparition would equally preserve his? Even if the first machine still existed it was no longer heard from and would not the second in the same way after having disclosed its powers disappear in its turn without a single trace. What gave weight to this probability was that since the arrival of this report at Washington twenty-four hours before the presence of the extraordinary boat hadn't been announced from anywhere along the shore. Neither had it been seen on any other coast though of course the assertion that it would not reappear at all would have been hazardous to say the least. I noted another interesting and possibly important point. It was a singular coincidence which indeed Mr. Ward suggested to me at the same moment that I was considering it. This was that only after the disappearance of the wonderful automobile had the no less wonderful boat come into view. Moreover, their engines both possessed the most dangerous power of locomotion. If both should go rushing at the same time over the face of the world the same danger would threaten mankind everywhere in boats, in vehicles, and on foot. Therefore it was absolutely necessary that the police should in some manner interfere to protect the public ways of travel. That is what Mr. Ward pointed out to me and our duty was obvious. But how could we accomplish this task? We discussed the matter for some time. Now it was just about to leave when Mr. Ward made one last suggestion. Have you not observed, Strach, said he, that there is a sort of fantastic resemblance between the general appearance of this boat and this automobile? There is something of the sort, Mr. Ward. Well, is it not possible that the two are one? There I had plenty of time to consider this strange case uninterrupted by either wife or children. My household consisted solely of an ancient servant who, having been formally in the service of my mother, had now continued for fifteen years in mine. Two months before I had obtained a leave of absence. It had still two weeks to run, unless indeed some unforeseen circumstance interrupted it. Some mission which could not be delayed. This leave, as I have shown, had already been interrupted for four days by my exploration of the Great Erie. And now was it not my duty to abandon my vacation and endeavour to throw light upon the remarkable events of which the road to Milwaukee and the shore of New England had been in turn the scene? I would have given much to solve the twin mysteries. But how was it possible to follow the track of this automobile or this boat? Seated in my easy chair after breakfast with my pipe lighted, I opened my newspaper. To what should I turn? Politics interested me, but little, with its eternal strife between the Republicans and the Democrats. Neither did I care for the news of society, nor for the sporting page. You will not be surprised then that my first idea was to see if there was any news from North Carolina about the Great Erie. Little hope of this, however, for Mr. Smith had promised to telegraph me at once, if anything occurred. I felt quite sure that the mayor of Morganton was as eager for information and as watchful as could have been myself. The paper told me nothing new. It dropped idly from my hand, and I remained deep in thought. What most frequently recurred to me was the suggestion of Mr. Ward that perhaps the automobile and the boat which had attracted our attention were in reality one and the same. Very probably at least the two machines had been built by the same hand, and beyond doubt these were similar engines which generated this remarkable speed more than doubling the previous records of earth and sea. The same inventor, repeated I. Evidently this hypothesis had strong grounds. The fact that the two machines had not yet appeared at the same time added weight to the idea. I murmured to myself, after the mystery of Great Erie comes that of Milwaukee and Boston, will this new problem be as difficult to solve as was the other? I noted idly that this new affair had a general resemblance to the other, since both menaced the security of the general public. To be sure only the inhabitants of the Blue Ridge region had been in danger from an eruption or possible earthquake at Great Erie. While now on every road of the United States or along every league of its coasts and harbors, every inhabitant was in danger from this vehicle or this boat, with its sudden appearance and insane speed. I found that, as was to be expected, the newspapers not only suggested, but enlarged upon the dangers of the case. Timid people everywhere were much alarmed. My old servant, naturally credulous and superstitious, was particularly upset. That same day after dinner, as she was clearing away the things, she stopped before me, a water-bottle in one hand, the serviette in the other, and asked anxiously, Is there no news, sir? None, I answered, knowing well to what she referred. The automobile has not come back? No. Nor the boat? Nor the boat. There is no news even in the best informed papers. But your secret police information? We are no why, sir. Then, sir, if you please, of what use are the police? It is a question which has phased me more than once. Now you see what will happen, continued the old housekeeper, complainingly. Some fine morning he will come without warning this terrible chauffeur and rush down our street here and kill us all. Good! When that happens there will be some chance of catching him. He will never be arrested, sir. Why not? Because he is the devil himself and you can't arrest the devil. Decidedly, thought I, the devil has many uses, and if he did not exist we would have to invent him to give people some way of explaining the inexplicable. It was he who lit the flames of the Great Erie. It was he who smashed the record in the Wisconsin race. It is he who is scurrying along the shores of Connecticut and Massachusetts. But putting to one side this evil spirit who is so necessary for the convenience of the ignorant, there was no doubt that we were facing a most bewildering problem. Had both of these machines disappeared forever? They had passed like a meteor, like a star shooting through space, and in a hundred years the adventure would become a legend, much to the taste of the gossips of the next century. For several days the newspapers of America and even those of Europe continued to discuss these events. Editorials crowded upon editorials. Rumors were added to rumors. Storytellers of every kind crowded to the front. The public of two continents was interested. In some parts of Europe there was even jealousy that America should have been chosen as the field of such an experience. If these marvelous inventors were American then their country, their army and navy would have a great advantage over others. The United States might acquire an incontestable superiority. Under the date of the 10th of June a New York paper published a carefully studied article on this phase of the subject. Comparing the speed of the swiftest known vessels with the smallest minimum of speed which could possibly be assigned to the new boat the article demonstrated that if the United States secured this secret Europe would be but three days away from her while she would still be five days from Europe. If her own police had searched diligently to discover the mystery of the Great Erie the secret service of every country and the world was now interested in these new problems. Mr. Ward referred to the matter each time I saw him. Our chat would begin by his rallying me about my ill success in Carolina and I would respond by reminding him that success there was only a question of expense. Never mind my good struck, said he. There will come a chance for our clever inspector to regain his laurels. Take now this affair of the automobile and the boat. If you could clear that up in advance of all the detectives of the world what an honor it would be to our department. What glory for you? It certainly would, Mr. Ward. And if you put the matter in my charge who knows, struck, let us wait a while. Let us wait. Matter stood thus when on the morning of June 15th my old servant brought me a letter from the letter carrier a registered letter for which I had to sign. I looked at the address. I did not know the handwriting. The postmark, dating from two days before was stamped at the post office of Morganton. Morganton, here at last was no doubt news from Mr. Elias Smith. Yes, exclaimed I speaking to my old servant for lack of another. It must be from Mr. Smith at last. I know no one else in Morganton and if he writes he has news. Morganton, said the old woman, isn't that the place where the demon set fire to their mountain? Exactly. Oh, sir, I hope you don't mean to go back there. Because you will end by being burned up in that furnace of the Great Erie and I wouldn't want you buried that way, sir. Come up and let us see if it is not better news than that. The envelope was sealed with red sealing wax and stamped with a sort of coat of arms surmounted with three stars. The paper was thick and very strong. I broke the envelope and drew out the letter. It was a single sheet folded in four and written on one side only. My first glance was for the signature. There was no signature. Nothing but three initials at the end of the last line. The letter is not from the mayor of Morganton, said I. Then from whom? asked the old servant, doubly curious and her quality as a woman and as an old gossip. Looking again at the three initials of the signature, I said, I know no one for whom these letters would stand, neither at Morganton nor elsewhere. The handwriting was bold. Both upstrokes and downstrokes very sharp, about twenty lines in all. Here is the letter of which I, with good reason, retained an exact copy. It was dated to my extreme stupefaction from that mysterious Great Erie. Great Erie, Blue Ridge Mountains. Two, Mr. Strach, North Carolina, June 13th. Chief Inspector of Police. 34 Longstreet, Washington, D.C. Sir, you were charged with the mission of penetrating the Great Erie. You came on April the 28th, accompanied by the mayor of Morganton and two guides. You mounted to the foot of the wall and you encircled it, finding it too high and steep to climb. You sought a breach and you found none. Know this, none enter the Great Erie, or if one enters he never returns. Do not try again, for the second attempt will not result as did the first, but will have grave consequences for you. Heed this warning, or evil fortune will come to you. M-O-W. End of chapter. The Master of the World. By Jules Verne, chapter 7. A third machine. I confess that at first this letter dumbfounded me. O's and O's slipped from my open mouth. The old servant stared at me, not knowing what to think. Oh, sir, is it bad news? I answered, for I kept few secrets from this faithful soul by reading her the letter from end to end. She listened with much anxiety. A joke without doubt, said I, shrugging my shoulders. Well, returned my superstitious handmaid. If it isn't from the devil, it's from the devil's country anyway. Left alone I again went over this unexpected letter. Reflection inclined me yet more strongly to believe that it was the work of a practical joker. My adventure was well known. The newspapers had given it in full detail. Some satirist, such as exist even in America, must have written this threatening letter to mock me. To assume, on the other hand, that the eerie really served as the refuge of a band of criminals seemed absurd. If they feared that the police would discover their retreat, surely they would not have been so foolish as thus to force attention upon themselves. Their chief security would lie in keeping their presence there unknown. They must have realized that such a challenge from them would only arouse the police to renewed activity. Dynamite or Mellonite would soon open an entrance to their fortress. Moreover, how could these men have, themselves, gained entrance into the area unless there existed a passage which we had failed to discover? Assuredly the letter came from a jester, or a madman, and I need not worry over it, nor even consider it. Hence, though for an instant I had thought of showing this letter to Mr. Ward, I decided not to do so. Surely he would attach no importance to it. However, I did not destroy it, but locked it in my desk for safekeeping. If more letters came of the same kind with the same initials, I would attach as little weight to them as to this. Several days passed quietly. There was nothing to lead me to expect that I should soon quit Washington, though in my line of duty one is never certain of the moral. At any moment I might be sent speeding from Oregon to Florida, from Maine to Texas, and this unpleasant thought haunted me frequently if my next mission were no more successful than that to the Great Erie, I might as well give up and handed my resignation from the force. Of the mysterious chauffeur or chauffeurs, nothing more was heard. I knew that our own government agents, as well as foreign ones, were keeping keen watch over all the roads and rivers, all the lakes and the coasts of America. Of course the size of the country had many close supervision impossible, but these twin inventors had not before chosen secluded in unfrequented spots in which to appear. The main highway of Wisconsin on a great race day, the harbor of Boston, incessantly crossed by thousands of boats, these were hardly what would be called hiding places. If the daring driver had not perished, of which there was always strong probability, then he must have left America. Perhaps he was in the waters of the Old World or else resting in some retreat known only to himself, and in that case... Ah! I repeated to myself many times, for such a retreat as secret, as inaccessible, this fantastic personage could not find one better than the Great Erie. But of course a boat could not get there any more than an automobile, only high-flying birds of prey, eagles or condors, could find refuge there. The 19th of June I was going to the police bureau when, on leaving my house, I noticed two men who looked at me with a certain keenness. Not knowing them I took no notice, and if my attention was drawn to the matter it was because my servant spoke of it when I returned. For some days, she said, she had noticed that two men seemed to be spying upon me in the street. They stood constantly, perhaps a hundred steps from my house, and she suspected that they followed me each time I went up the street. You are sure? I asked. Yes, sir, and no longer ago than yesterday when you came into the house these men came slipping along in your footsteps and then went away as soon as the door was shut behind you. You must be mistaken. I am not, sir. And if you met these two men you would know them? I would. Good! I cried, laughing. I see you have the very spirit for a detective. I must engage you as a member of our force. Joke if you like, sir, but I have still two good eyes and I don't need spectacles to recognize people. Someone is spying on you. That's certain. And you should put some of your men to track them in turn. All right. I promised to do so. I said to satisfy her. And when my men get after them we shall soon know what these mysterious fellows want of me. In truth I did not take the good soul's excited announcement very seriously. I added, however, when I go out I will watch the people around me with great care. That will be best, sir. My poor old housekeeper was always frightening herself at nothing. If I see them again, she added, I will warn you before you set foot out of doors. Agreed. And I broke off the conversation knowing well that if I allowed her to run on she would end by being sure that Beesle-Bub himself and one of his chief attendants were at my heels. The two following days there was certainly no one spying on me, either at my exits or entrances. So I concluded my old servant had made much of nothing, as usual. But on the morning of the twenty-second of June after rushing upstairs as rapidly as her age would permit the devoted old soul burst into my room and in a half whisper gasped, Sir. Sir. What is it? They are there. Who? I queried my mind on anything but the web she had been spinning about me. The two spies! Ah! those wonderful spies! Themselves, in the street, right in front of our windows, watching the house waiting for you to go out. I went to the window and raising just an edge of the shade so as not to give any warning. I saw two men on the pavement. They were rather fine-looking men, broad-shouldered and vigorous, aged somewhat under forty, dressed in the ordinary fashion of the day, with slouched hats, heavy woolen suits, stout walking shoes, and sticks in hand. Undoubtedly they were staring persistently at my apparently unwatchful house. Then, having exchanged a few words, they strolled off a little way and returned again. Are you sure these are the same men you saw before? Yes, Sir. Evidently I could no longer dismiss her warning as an hallucination, and I promised myself to clear up the matter. As to following the men myself, I was presumably too well known to them to address them directly with probably be of no use. But that very day one of our best men should be put on watch, and if the spies returned on the morrow, they should be tracked in their turn and watched until their identity was established. At the moment they were waiting to follow me to police headquarters. For it was there that I was bound as usual. If they accompanied me I might be able to offer them a hospitality for which they would scarce thank me. I took my hat, and while the housekeeper remained peeping from the window, I went downstairs, opened the door, and stepped into the street. The two men were no longer there. Despite all my watchfulness that day I saw no more of them as I passed along the streets. From that time on, indeed, neither my old servant nor I saw them again before the house, nor did I encounter them elsewhere. Their appearance, however, was stamped upon my memory. I would not forget them. Perhaps, after all, admitting that I had been the object of their espionage, they had been mistaken in my identity. Having obtained a good look at me, they now followed me no more. So in the end I came to regard this matter as of no more importance than the letter with the initials M-O-W. Then, on the 24th of June, there came a new event to further stimulate both my interest and that of the general public in the previous mysteries of the automobile and the boat. The Washington Evening Star published the following account which was next morning copied by every paper in the country. Curdall in Kansas, forty miles west of Topeka, is little known. It deserves wider knowledge and doubtless will have it hereafter, for attention is now drawn to it in a very remarkable way. This lake, deep among the mountains, appears to have no outlet. What it loses by evaporation it regains from the little neighboring streamlets and the heavy rains. Lake Curdall covers about seventy-five square miles, and its level is but slightly below that of the heights which surround it. Shut in among the mountains it can be reached only by narrow and rocky gorges. Several villages, however, have sprung up upon its banks. It is full of fish and fishing boats cover its waters. Lake Curdall is in many places fifty feet deep close to shore. Sharp pointed rocks form the edges of this huge basin. Its surges, roused by high winds, beat upon its banks with fury, and the houses near at hand are often deluge with spray as if with the downpour of a hurricane. The lake, already deep at the edge, becomes yet deeper toward the center, where in some places sounding show over three hundred feet of water. The fishing industry supports a population of several thousands and there are several hundred fishing boats in addition to the dozen or so of little steamers which serve the traffic of the lake. Beyond the circle of the mountains lie the railroads which transport the products of the fishing industry throughout Kansas and the neighboring states. This account of Lake Curdall is necessary for the understanding of the remarkable facts which we are about to report. And this is what the evening star then reported in its startling article. For some time past the fishermen have noticed a strange upheaval in the waters of the lake. Sometimes it rises as if a wave surged up from its depths, even in perfectly calm weather. When there is no wind whatever, this upheaval sometimes arises in a mass of foam. Tossed about by violent waves and unaccountable currents, boats have been swept beyond all control. Sometimes they have been dashed one against another and serious damage has resulted. This confusion of the waters evidently has its origin somewhere in the depths of the lake and various explanations have been offered to account for it. At first it was suggested that the trouble was due to seismic forces, to some volcanic action beneath the lake. But this hypothesis had to be rejected when it was recognized that the disturbance was not confined to one locality but spread itself over the entire surface of the lake, either at one part or another, in the center or along the edges, traveling along almost in a regular line in a way to exclude entirely all idea of earthquake or volcanic action. Another hypothesis suggested that it was a marine monster who thus upheave the waters. But unless the beast had been born in the lake and there grown to its gigantic proportions unsuspected, which was scarce possible, he must have come there from outside. Lake Kerdall, however, has no connection with any other waters. If this lake were situated near any of the oceans, there might be subterranean canals, but in the center of America and at the height of some thousands of feet above sea level, this is not possible. In short, here is another riddle not easy to solve and it is much easier to point out the impossibility of false explanations than to discover the true one. Is it possible that a submarine boat is being experimented with beneath the lake? Such boats are no longer impossible today. Some years ago, at Bridgeport, Connecticut, there was launched a boat, the Protector, which could go on the water, under the water, and also upon land. Built by an inventor named Lake, supplied with two motors, an electric one of seventy-five horsepower and a gasoline one of two hundred and fifty horsepower, it was also provided with wheels a yard in diameter, which enabled it to roll over the roads as well as swim the seas. But even then, granting that the turmoil of Lake Kerdall might be produced by a submarine brought to a high degree of perfection, there remains as before the question of how it could have reached Lake Kerdall. The lake, shut in on all sides by a circle of mountains, is no more accessible to a submarine than to a sea-monster. In whatever way this last puzzling question may be solved, the nature of this strange appearance can no longer be disputed since the twentieth of June. On that day, in the afternoon, the schooner Markell, while speeding with all sails set, came into violent collision with something just below the water level. There was no shoal nor rock near, for the lake in this part is eighty or ninety feet deep. The schooner with both her bow and her side badly broken ran great danger of sinking. She managed, however, to reach the shore before her decks were completely submerged. When the Markell had been pumped out and hauled up on shore, an examination showed that she had received a blow near the bow as if from a powerful ram. From this it seems evident that there is actually a submarine boat which darts about beneath the surface of Lake Kerdall with most remarkable rapidity. The thing is difficult to explain. Not only is there a question as to how did the submarine get there, but why is it there? Why does it never come to the surface? What reason has its owner for remaining unknown? Are other disasters to be expected from its reckless course? The article in the Evening Star closed with this truly striking suggestion. After the mysterious automobile came the mysterious boat. Now comes the mysterious submarine. Must we conclude that the three engines are due to the genius of the same inventor and that the three vehicles are in truth but one end of chapter?