"Ah, Professor," said another, "your fortune's made for all time. This'll be known to fame as the Great American Comet. I dare say it's as big as all the comets of the old world put together."
Mr. Wheeler took an unusually long look.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I don't believe that comet will stay with us long. We'd better leave the Professor to his calculations, while we go back and have a toast to his great discovery."
But nobody stirred. Then Mr. Wheeler left the observatory, and walked straight up to Haven's barn. He picked up a cart-stake, swung it around his head, and hurled it; and, in the twinkling of an eye, that comet had passed its perihelion, and shot from the solar system in so long an ellipse that I fear it will never return.
Unfortunately, the flying cart-stake not only put out the comet, but struck Phaeton, who had been left there by Monkey Roe to manage the thing, and put his arm out of joint. He bore it heroically, and climbed down to the ground alone before he told us what had happened. Then, as he nearly fainted away, we helped him home, while Holman ran for the family physician, who arrived in a few minutes and set the arm.
"It serves me right," said Phaeton, "for ever lending myself to any of Monkey Roe's schemes to build a mere fool-thing."
"I'm sorry you're hurt," said Ned; "but it does seem as if that comet was a silly machine, only intended to deceive me and Professor Adams, instead of being for the good of mankind, like your other inventions. And now you won't be able to do anything in the printing-office for a long while, just when we're crowded with work. If you were not my own brother, and such an awful good fellow, we wouldn't let you have any share of the profits for the next month."
CHAPTER XII.
A LITERARY MYSTERY.