“There is not the slightest doubt. I understand my machine better than you do.”
“Not only that but a good many other facts better than I. I am so interested in you that I am going to ask a great favor.”
“What’s that?”
“That before you start to sail almost three thousand miles eastward, you travel the same distance westward.”
The piercing eyes opened so wide that it was clear the Professor did not catch the full meaning of the remark.
“Travel westward,” he repeated, as if to himself; “what are you saying?”
“It is about three thousand miles from where we stand to the Pacific Ocean; why not sail to that coast and return? If you succeed—as of course you must—no one can doubt that you will make the ocean voyage in safety.”
The Professor still stared and Harvey elaborated his scheme.
“All the way from here to San Francisco, or any part of the Pacific coast, you will travel over land. Of course there will be some rivers, perhaps lakes and the Rocky Mountains to cross, but if any slip occurs you can come down without difficulty. On your return you will have the same thing over again. Don’t you see what an admirable training it will be?”
The response to this question fairly took away Harvey’s breath.