“You'll be able to understand in a moment. That coal-scuttle, as you call it, is large enough to hold four tons. See? Well, the people in the yard are going to want two tons of coal very shortly. What do they do?”
“Take it out, weigh it, and send it,” I hazarded.
“Not at all. They simply adjust the controlling apparatus to the two-ton point, and set the Crano-Scale going. The scoop dips down, picks up exactly two tons of coal, and rises automatically as soon as the two tons are in. After that the crane swings outward, dumps the coal in the wagon, and there you have it—weighed and all! It has been in operation here for one month,” Hawkins concluded complacently.
“And no one killed or maimed? No Crano-Scale widows or orphans?”
“Oh, Griggs, you are—Ha! She's starting!”
The Crano-Scale emitted an ear-piercing shriek. The big steel crane was in motion.
I watched the thing. Gracefully the coal-scuttle dipped into the pile of coal, dug for a minute, swung upward again. It turned, passed through a big doorway in the side, and we could hear the coal rattling into the wagon.
The Crano-Scale returned and swung ponderously in the twilight.
“There!” cried Hawkins triumphantly.
“It works!” I gasped.