“I have told you the truth,” said Johnny stoutly. “Perhaps I should have said a dust-burning mule. That’s what she was. It wouldn’t be a bit of good to explain to you; you wouldn’t understand, and besides, I don’t want to. That’s our secret. We have permission from Mr. McFarland to conduct experiments here nights.”
“But you have no permission to endanger men’s lives.”
“That’s right,” Johnny admitted; “we were a bit careless.”
“I’ll just turn the facts in to the boss and you can fight it out with him,” said the watchman sourly as he turned away.
“Well, that’s that,” said Johnny sorrowfully. “It’s a complete loss. We’ll have to begin all over again. But from that little test I am convinced that the engine has a wonderful future.”
“This particular one had a brief but eventful past, I’d say,” grinned Pant.
After one more look at the wreck, they turned and went their way.
That night before he fell asleep Johnny reviewed in his mind the events that led up to the happenings of that evening.
He, Johnny, had been standing on the steps of the official entrance to the plant one afternoon, when Mr. McFarland had said to him: “Johnny, please go down to the north gate and request that old man to go away. He is stopping the workers as they pass and trying to engage them in conversation. He looks like he is a propagandist for some radical organization trying to make the men discontented. Get rid of him if you can.”
The man had turned out to be not a radical at all, but a friendly and harmless old man who was seeking some one who could be interested in a new type of engine which he had invented. Such a fine spoken and polished old gentleman had he proved to be that Johnny had been prevailed upon to accompany him to his home to see the engine.