Mr. Roumann was anxiously looking at the apparatus to see what damage had been done by the bomb.
"Can't we go to Mars?" inquired Jack.
"I think so," was the reassuring reply of the scientist. "It is not damaged so much as I feared. The wheels and pipes are easily replaced, and as long as the generator and the distributing plates are not disturbed, I can easily repair the rest. But it was a fortunate chance that the bomb did not explode nearer the projectile. Otherwise we would have had to give up our journey."
"And we would have had to if you had been killed," remarked the professor. "I thought the secret of the power was going to die with you!"
"It will," replied Mr. Roumann, "but not just yet. I shall never disclose the source of the power until I reach Mars, get what I am after, and come back. Then I may bequeath it to you, Professor Henderson, in return for the kindness of yourself and your young assistants."
"I will appreciate that. But you had better go to the house now and let me doctor you up."
"No, I feel well. I want to get right to work repairing the damage. It will delay us several days, but we cannot avoid it. I wish I could catch the men responsible for this outrage."
"Have you any idea who they were?"
"No; but I suspect they were in the enemy of mine. A man who used to work for me, but whom I discharged because of dishonetesty. His name was Zeb Forker."
"One of the men who threw the bomb was same one who was at the window one night," said Mark. "Do you suppose he could be Forker, Mr. Roumann?"