at such a tension that, when Will nudged me, I fairly shouted, “What ’s the matter?”
“That fellow is a fraud,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“He is simply trying to make a sensation, but he has mistaken his audience this time.”
“Who, the iron-worker?” I asked in bewilderment.
“No, no, the megaphone man. His mathematics are all wrong, and he thinks he can fool us. The velocity figures to only 179 feet per second, not counting the resistance of the air, or less than 125 miles an hour.”
“Well, one would find that fast enough if one should happen to take the journey,” said I.
“Certainly,” said Will, “it is bad enough as it stands without any exaggerations. But, shucks!” he said, when the ride was over, “I could n’t trust a thing that fellow had to say. We will have to go all over the ground ourselves and verify his statements. Let us go down to that building and find out something about it. It would make a good subject to start the diary.”Photograph by Brown Brothers.
Waiting to receive a beam—“All in the day’s work.”
Chapter II
Five hundred fee above Broadway
“I wonder where the passenger elevator is,” said Will.
“I guess that is it,’ I replied, pointing to a ladder.
“It looks good enough for me,” he rejoined. “It leads upward, anyhow.”
It was a broad, double ladder, so arranged that one person could go up while another went down.