"Hardly. Have you made it invisible?"
"No and yes," chuckled Hawkins. "What would you say, Griggs, to a
fire-escape that you kept indoors until it was needed?"
"I should say 'nay, nay,' if any one wanted me to use it."
"No, I mean--oh, come up-stairs and I'll show it to you at once."
"Show me what, Hawkins?" I cried, detaining him with a firm hand. "Is
it another contrivance? Has it a motor? Does it use gasolene or
gunpowder or dynamite?"
"No, it does not!" said the inventor gruffly, trudging toward the top
of the house.
"There!" he exclaimed when we had reached the upper floor. "That's it.
What do you think of it?"
It was a device of strange appearance. It seemed to be a huge
clothes-basket, such as is used for transportation of the family
"wash," and it was piled with what appeared to be the remains of
as many white sun-umbrellas as could have been collected at half a
dozen seaside resorts.
"What is it?" I said with a blank smile. "Junk?"
"No, it's not junk. That mass of ribs and white silk which looks like
junk to your unaccustomed eye constitutes a set of aeroplanes or wings.
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