Chatterbox, 1905 Part 131

The settler's wife, looking out from her lonely cabin on the prairie, at the band of roving Indians, learned to note and understand the Indian smoke signals, puffing lightly into the clear blue of the prairie sky.

These smoke signals are always sent in puffs or rings, so that there may be no chance of mistaking them for a camp fire. The puffs are made by covering a fire with a blanket for a minute. Then the blanket is lifted quickly, and the smoke ascends in a ring or puff. The blanketing process is repeated until a column of rings warns the Indians far and near to 'Look out,' or 'Be on the watch.' Two smokes built close together mean, 'Camp here.' Three smokes signal 'Danger.'

Signalling at night was carried on by means of fire arrows. Their meaning was like that of the smokes. The fiery trail left by the arrow in its flight through the darkness was the same signal as one smoke. The others tallied, and a flight of several fiery arrows said, 'The enemy are too many for us.'

ROSS FRAME.

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

XII.--SOME WONDERS OF THE SKY.

Behind the clouds there are marvels as endless as those on the earth itself. Among those who have attempted to describe some of them, few have done so as vividly as the French astronomer, M. Flammarion. He has been up in sunshine and clouds, at sunrise and sunset, and looked down on the sleeping world all through the summer night.

On one of these pleasant voyages, M. Flammarion had for some time been sailing in a dense cloud, which made even the gas-bag above quite invisible, when suddenly the air was filled with most beautiful music.

It seemed as though some mysterious band was playing in the very cloud itself, only a few yards away. M. Flammarion strained his eyes in every direction, but nothing except the white mist met his gaze. By-and-by, however, the cloud grew brighter, and a few moments later the haze seemed to open and let him into a world of dazzling light. He had ascended right through the rain-cloud, and broken into fine weather on the other side. On leaving the cloud the mysterious music had ceased. M.

Flammarion learned afterwards that it had been produced by the orchestra of a small town over which he was sailing at the time. The rising sound had been caught and retained by the cloud, for, strange to say, while dead silence is found in the clear sky at a certain height, a cloud at the same level will often be full of sounds coming from the world below.

The object of M. Flammarion's voyage was to study the secrets of the air, and to do this properly it was necessary to go up in all sorts of weather. In a long journey from Paris across the border into Prussia, most of the distance was done in a dark and rainy night. Finding that the falling rain had made the balloon so heavy that it was sinking to the earth, he threw out ballast and rose above the cloud. But the struggling moon gave little light, and he was greatly struck by hearing, in the darkness far below, the constant noise of the falling rain. The sense of loneliness in such surroundings was very strong.

Experiments from the floating car have proved that the best echo is produced by the smooth surface of a lake. Thus when the balloon was once over a large sheet of water, the traveller called out the names of the stars reflected on its surface. Each name was echoed back with great clearness, as though some fairy of the lake were mocking him.

'Tell me, then,' cried the aeronaut at last, in fun, 'what the inhabitants of these stars are like?'

But no reply was made, for the balloon had sailed beyond the margin of the water, and his voice had fallen on the solid earth. To obtain an echo from _that_ is more difficult.

On one occasion, wishing to find out if the balloon were rising or falling, M. Flammarion dropped a bottle over the side of the car. To his astonishment it stood in the air as though hanging there. It would have been just the same if he had placed a table out there too, with a chair beside it, and a knife and fork and plate upon it. He might have got out himself and sat on the chair, and they would all have appeared to be remaining still in mid-air. But as a matter of fact the bottle and the balloon were descending to earth at exactly the same speed. This would never do, and so a little ballast was thrown out. The bottle immediately seem to shoot downwards, though not quite in a vertical line, for it still moved with the impetus it had been given when thrown overboard.

Ten seconds later M. Flammarion saw it reach the earth in the centre of a large field.

Each voyage brought the explorer some fresh surprise; but we must say good-bye to M. Flammarion and his balloon, for his discoveries and adventures are too many to follow. Before, however, we end these cruises in the clouds altogether, there is time for a word or two about the many machines which have been made in the hope of enabling men to soar in the skies without the aid of a balloon. Attempts to do this were made long before the Montgolfiers sent up their paper bag at Annonay, and beyond the fact that machines have been invented which can lift themselves into the sky, very little progress has been really made. Perhaps the most important of these inventions are those of Professor Langley and Sir Hiram Maxim. After many years of labour, Professor Langley of Washington succeeded, on May 6th, 1896, in launching his flying machine from the sh.o.r.es of the Potomac. The broad sails, or 'aeroplanes,' as they are called, cleaved the air like the wings of a bird, and kept up a steady flight for a minute and a half.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The bottle stood in the air as though hanging there."]

Somewhat similar in outward design is the huge mechanical bird built by Sir Hiram Maxim. Broad stretches of canvas are arranged horizontally one above the other, tilting a little upwards in front. Instead of legs and feet, this strange bird has wheels running on rails. When the machine is put in motion it skims over the rails at a great speed, and the effort made by the 'aeroplanes' to climb the air shows a great power of flight.

But the machine is prevented from leaving the rails by a second pair of small wheels running on the under-side, and the strain on these wheels shows the strength of the giant wings; for Sir Hiram Maxim's only object is to prove that aerial ships built in such a way would have great buoyancy. A number of them, in a modified form, have been fitted to a 'giant longstride,' and many of the London boys and girls who have been to the Exhibitions (at Earl's Court and elsewhere), where the longstride stands, know something of the principle of the flying machine.

But, after all, the greatest successes in human flight have been won in fancy. And here again, the honour belongs to France, for what more entrancing journey was ever made than that taken by the pa.s.sengers in the late Jules Verne's 'Clipper of the Clouds?' Built in the form of an ocean-goer, but with large screws worked horizontally at the summits of the masts, this flying ship made a journey round the world, visiting the most distant countries, for when the broad, blue sky is the road no obstacle can lie in the way. True, when the enchanting book is ended, we know that it was only a dream, yet we must remember that many of the great French author's dreams have been realised before now.

JOHN LEA.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Every day he went out and brought me in a hare or a rabbit.'"]

ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.

True Anecdotes.

VI.--READY-MADE HOMES.

When men first made houses, with a view to their own comfort, they little thought that they were providing a ready-made home for a host of outsiders, who took so readily to our quarters that we wonder where they can have lived before. How did the stork get on without his chimney, the merry sparrow without his gutter, the clothes-moth without cupboards, the house-spider without dirty corners and ceilings? In Holland the stork makes free with the house-top as a matter of course, often dropping a stray eel, small snake, or frog, intended for his young, down the chimney into the fireless grate of his astonished hosts below. He knows that n.o.body would be cruel enough to meddle with that untidy bundle of sticks which houses his family circle. The devotion of these beautiful birds to the fluffy youngsters on the roof is an example to those beneath it. In Turkey the stork is greatly respected, and lately he has been better thought of than ever. A small village on the Gulf of Ismidt caught fire, and over two hundred houses were destroyed. Many storks' nests were there, and when the fire began to rage the terrified birds fled pell-mell, but for a few moments only. After a brief pause they recovered their presence of mind, and with a rush the same broad wings which had hurried them away from death bore them as swiftly back to the burning stacks, where, in each nest, there lay two or three helpless young. The old birds settled down over the broods, covered them with their wings, and one after another perished without another attempt to save themselves.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Swallow's Nest on the Crank of a Bell-wire.]

What the stork is abroad, the swallow is, or ought to be, in England, honoured and admired. Here he makes his summer home, and for the few months during which he stays amply earns his keep by clearing away the swarms of flies. The number of injurious insects consumed by one pair of swallows and their young during a single day cannot be less than one thousand, and the number killed during the season is beyond calculation.

Swallows are quick to avail themselves of ready-made nooks for their nests. When the eaves and similar places will not do, they boldly enter houses and churches, and take any spot that takes their fancy. A farmer at Crux Eastern was honoured by a couple who chose a door inside his home, and, when the nest was accidentally shaken down, pitched upon another door. The farmer's wife, fearing that this nest would be destroyed also, drove a large nail into the woodwork beneath as a support. But Dame Swallow could not put up with this interference, and, leaving the second nest, she chose the crank of a bell-wire in the kitchen. Without more ado she built, laid eggs, and hatched them, though the farmer gave a supper to his men while she was still house-keeping, and while the sheep-shearers enjoyed their noisy feast, the little pair flew in and out, feeding their young as quietly as if they were utterly alone.

Much might be said of the fondness shown by some unbidden guests for our food, of the trickery of the mouse, or of the cricket's habit of tumbling into the milk, while taking unlawful sips. But a plea can be found even for the most despised of creatures. Cheese is a dainty to the pilfering mouse, but the eggs of the c.o.c.kroach are a still daintier morsel. The cricket is a scavenger, and besides cheering us by his sprightly song, rids the floor of tiny atoms of insanitary dust, and the house-spider preys on the clothes-moth. One lesson at least is taught by many a household insect, that of strict cleanliness.

Besides our regular housemates, many strange creatures will live with us in time of trouble, forgetful of their fear. The following is a true and delightful instance of this. On one of the Highland hills an old woman lived quite alone. After a severe snow-storm, some shepherds, fearing for her safety, went to the rescue and found her hut snowed up. They were unable to trace it till a curl of smoke was seen rising out of a drift. The warmth had melted a small hollow just above the hole in her roof which served as a chimney. Down this they called, 'Jenny, are you living?' For answer a fox darted out of the hole and ran away. Again they called. 'Yes,' answered the old woman. 'Heaven has been very good to me. I have been fed by the beasts of the wood.' 'What do you mean?'

asked the men. She said, 'A wild fox came down the chimney to take shelter. I spoke kindly to it, and it came and sat by the fire, and every day he went out and brought me in a hare or a rabbit.'

This story makes one feel how easily the fear and dread of us, which so many creatures are forced to feel, might be changed into trust and love, so that we might fulfil the text, 'The beast of the field shall be at peace with thee.'

EDITH CARRINGTON.

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(_Continued from page 387._)

CHAPTER XXIII.

The Boxers had evidently heard that Charlie and the two Chinamen had ventured to leave the shelter of the mission enclosure, and it was plain that they had hoped to surprise them. And had they been a minute earlier, they would undoubtedly have succeeded in doing so. In fact, the foremost man was so close upon them that he seized the ladder just as it was being raised, and, tugging hard, pulled it out of Barton's hands.

This capture, trivial though it was, filled the Boxers with enthusiasm.

With fierce shouts they rushed at the gates and attacked them with hatchets. But, as the gates were of iron, and had been made and fixed with the intention of resisting such a.s.saults, their efforts were in vain. Soon they recognised that they were wasting their strength, and, at a signal from their leader, they turned away and ran to seek shelter.

Soon there was not a living Boxer visible to the missionaries and their friends.

They had had enough fighting for one day, and did not again expose themselves. The besieged party took the opportunity to strengthen their defences and make other preparations for a long siege.

'I hope,' Barton said, in answer to a question from Charlie, 'that we shall be relieved within a week from to-day, as the missionaries who had to seek shelter here sent trustworthy messengers to Peking and Wei-hai-wei with letters to the British officials, telling them of their sufferings and whither they were bound; and the day before you arrived I sent off two messengers with notes for the captain of any British warship they could find, stating that we were besieged.'

About ten o'clock on the following morning the Boxers renewed their attack, but in a manner which the defenders had not expected. Instead of rushing into the open, as they had done before, they fired from the houses facing the mission building.

'Get the women and children into the bas.e.m.e.nt at once,' Barton shouted to one of his colleagues, for some of the Boxers were firing from the roofs of the houses into the mission enclosure.

'The Boxers take good care to keep under cover,' Charlie remarked.

'Evidently we have taught them to respect us.'