“Glass and fur,” puzzled Lee. “That’s a strange combination.”
Gem Renaud tugged at his chin-whisker while his mind went searching back into the past. “That book of science, we studied as boys, explains it, if I can just remember. It was something about 'a portion of fair glass well rubbed with silk or fur or leather begets this electrica.’”
“Why, there seem to be all kinds of rubbers or exciters. I reckon though, since fur was used on this contraption at first, fur is what we better use again.” Lee Renaud got up and stretched his legs, then went outside.
He had remembered seeing some squirrel skins tacked to old Pomp’s cabin door. And now he was going forth to do some bargaining.
“Hey, Pompey,” the boy held out his best silk necktie, “how about trading me those skins for this?”
The bright silk was most beguiling. The negro hesitated a moment, then capitulated.
“Yas, sir, I’d sho like to swap. I—I reckon I might’s well trade. You take along them skins, but please, sir, don’t connect me in no way with any glass wheel conjuring you might be using those squirrel pelts for.”
Restraining his laughter, Lee solemnly agreed and soon departed, carrying four good pelts with him. He cut out good-sized pieces of the fur and nailed these on the four blocks of wood that had held the original fur pads. Then he fixed the blocks back in their places on the frame so that the revolving glass would brush between the two pairs of pads, one pair at the top, and one pair at the bottom.
Cogwheels had to be geared up and a new handle made to replace the old one that had rotted. It was dusk of day before Lee Renaud was ready to test out the ancient “lightning maker.” Great-uncle Gem sat erect and eager in his chair. Pompey stood in a far corner, holding a candle for light, rolling his eyes in something of a fright, but sticking by to see after Marse Gem, no matter what happened.
Lee’s heart half smothered him with its excited pounding.