Continuing his hasty survey of the curious laboratory, Andy faced the other windowed side of the room. Crowded into a corner, he made out a portable forge. Next to it, was an anvil with hammers, tongs, and bending blocks. Next to this was another and still heavier bench.
It was the first close view of this that made Andy spring forward as if he had caught sight of a bed of gold nuggets. Hereon, plainly enough, were the physical expressions of the eccentric experimenter’s peculiar ideas. Metal wheels, shafts, springs, cylinders, and pistons were heaped together. In front of them was a wooden, soot-smeared and oil-begrimed miniature model of something. The little model had somewhat the appearance of a mechanical fan. As Andy picked it up, a voice from behind him exclaimed:
“Couldn’t wait, eh?”
It was Captain Anderson, and he was followed by Mrs. Leighton and Mrs. Anderson.
“Where’s that power generator or transformer, or whatever it is?” was Andy’s only answer as he replaced the model.
“Andrew!” exclaimed his mother, as she caught sight of the boy, whose face was streaked with dust and perspiration, and whose coat was already covered with cobwebs. “You’re ruining your best suit. Come out of that dirty place.”
The boy did so, but it was partly because Captain Anderson had motioned him around the shed. There, beneath a lean-to protection, was a fourth bench. On this, even the untrained Andy instantly made out six small cylinders connected by steel tubes, in the center of each of which was an arrangement of valves and stop cocks. Attached to the first of the cylinders was a compact device resembling a blower, operated by a hand crank. From this, a steel tube led below the bench.
“Don’t ask me what it is,” exclaimed Captain Anderson. “All I know about it is your uncle said that when he got those cylinders workin’ right, he’d have no more use for gasoline.”