"Our center of gravity has become displaced," answered Mr. Henderson. "The gravity machine has either broken, or some one has been tampering with it. Did either of you boys touch it?"
"No, indeed!" cried Mark, and his chum echoed his words.
"I wonder if Washington could have meddled with it?" went on the scientist.
At that moment the colored cook came along, making his way cautiously into the engine room. He was an odd sight. Bits of carrots, turnips and potatoes were in his hair, while from one ear dangled a bunch of macaroni, and his clothes were dripping wet.
"My kitchen done turned upside down on me!" wailed Washington, "an' a whole kettle ob soup emptied on my head! Oh, golly! What happened?"
The aged scientist looked toward the German. The latter was gazing up at the motionless Cardite motor over his head.
"There is but one way," he answered. "We must restore our centre of gravity to where it was before. Then the projectile will right herself."
"Can it be done?" asked Mark.
"It will be quite an undertaking, but we must attempt it. Bring some tables and chairs, so I can stand up and reach the equilibrium machine."
From where they had fallen to the ceiling, which was now the floor,
Jack and Mark brought tables and chairs, and made a sort of stepladder.
On this Professor Roumann mounted, and at once began the readjusting of
the centre of gravity.