Monsters of the Ray Page 3

  "Well, what are the materials?" I asked him. "Poisons?"

  "That I cannot definitely say—as yet," he replied. "But" he added, after a moment's thought, "I'm not sure that your discovery has not paved the way to solving the problem I've been working at and worrying over for the past three years. If I'm not mistaken—and my spectroscope and other tests convince me I'm not—the contents of that flask hold the secret I've been trying to solve. Would you object very much if I should ruin the specimen?"

  "It's a darned valuable thing," I reminded him. "But—Oh, the devil; see here, old man. I'm not curious, I'm not asking what you're after. I know it must be something big and if that old brass bottle, or whatever it is, will help you, go to it and rip it apart, melt it down or do anything you please with it. It was on your j property anyway and you're welcome to it."

  "Thanks!" he cried with more than mere thanks in his tone. "II try not to spoil the thing. And—well I don't like telling my plans until I I'm morally certain I can carry them through. But what I have in mind' is rather "big" as you put it, and if it works out you'll learn how the old pre-Incans cut their stone and—perhaps—a lot more."

  Chapter IV

  How the Pre-Incans Cut Stone

  I had been with Harris six weeks! When we found the metal vessel and it was not until ten days later that; he again referred to it. Often, during j that time, I had wondered what he , was doing—for he was buried in his laboratory from morning until night nearly every day—but I understood ; him well enough by this time to know there was no use in asking; him questions. When he was ready to announce anything of interest he would do so.

  Then one day, without the slightest reason—for the conversation had been totally different matters-he asked abruptly: "Remember that; old legend you told me?"

  I nodded. "What about it?" I retorted. "Heard another one?"

  "No-o" he drawled as if measuring his words. "But I'm inclined to think there was a lot more truth than" fiction in it,"

  I laughed. "Still thinking of that myself, eh!" I exclaimed. "Well, what's on your mind now?"

  "Have you ever really given much thought to how those stones were cut?" he asked, ignoring my question. "I mean," he hastened to explain, "have you set down all possible theories and then checked off the fors and againsts each? Have you tackled it in a really scientific manner?"

  "Why—er—yes and no," I told him. "Of course, I don't believe— any more than you do—that they were cut by stone implements, or that they were ground into shape or hewn from the rock with bronze tools. Possibly the pre-Incans had iron or steel—I've advanced that theory, as have others."

  "In that case where's the steel?" he asked. "And even if you say—as you will—that it's disappeared, has been lost by corrosion through thousands of years—how long would it take men to cut such gigantic stones in such numbers as are used in any one of the thousands of walls and buildings in Peru? And how long would it take a horde of men to cut that archway, even with steel tools, by hand? With modern machine-drills it would be a tremendous undertaking—requiring years of steady work. No, my friend, you'll have to think up a better theory than that." "Well," I said sarcastically, "I once met a man in Bolivia, who claimed to have solved the problem. He said the pre-Incas never cut the stones, but cast them. Knew where there was molten rock and ran it into moulds."

  "Well, I've had a theory in my head for a long time," he said, "not precisely what you think, however, and your legend of the old king and how he called on the Sun-God and used the latter's fire rather bore my theory out. If you can burn wood, can even melt metal by concentrating the rays of the sun through a lens, isn't it possible that some device might be made that would concentrate the sun's heat sufficiently to melt or cut rock?"

  "I don't say such a thing might not be done by scientists today," I admitted rather reluctantly. "But not by the prehistoric races of America. And even if accomplished by modern methods and sciences it would necessarily be on a small scale—merely an interesting laboratory experiment."

  "I suppose you are right," he sighed, rising. "But if you're not too busy I'd like to have you come over to the laboratory. I've been working on that metal flask you dug up, and I think you’ll be interested in the results."

  Of course I became interested at once and accompanied him to the work-shops, where he unlocked a stout door and led the way into a small room adjoining the laboratory. I had expected to see the flask—-probably cut in two or taken apart —together with its contents, but as I glanced about I failed to see the thing anywhere. The room contained a couple of chairs, a low stand on which was a brass cylinder equipped with valves and a sort of miniature hose nozzle, and a strong wooden trestle on which rested a good sized chunk of rough, irregular granite.

  "Have a seat and make yourself comfortable," Harris invited, indicating a chair as he stepped to the brass cylinder.

  I seated myself and watched him curiously as he adjusted the valves and moved the nozzle, which I now saw was attached by means of a universal joint that permitted it to swing in any direction. What he was up to, I could not guess, but I knew he must have some interesting demonstration to show me, and I knew him too well to ask for explanations. For the life of me I couldn't see what the cylindrical tank—which looked more like a fire-extinguisher than anything else—had to do with the metal vessel I had found.

  Quickly turning the valves, Harris grasped the nozzle and commenced moving it slowly from left to right. Nothing came from it—not even a sound—and wondering when the show was to begin I glanced at the mass of granite a few feet from where Harris stood.

  A sharp ejaculation came from my lips, I leaned forward, clutched the arms of the chair, my amazed eyes fixed upon the stone. Was I dreaming? Had Harris hypnotized me? I could not credit my own eyes, could not believe I was in my right senses!

  A thin greenish vapor was rising from the surface of the rock, and below it, moving slowly across the rough granite, was a narrow groove as sharp and clear and straight as though an invisible saw was cutting through the solid stone! Unable to utter a sound, my incredulous eyes glued upon the phenomenon before me, I watched the deep scarf move across the rock until it had traversed the entire length of the mass of granite.

  What did it mean? How was it done? Before I could frame a question: before I could collect my senses, I saw Harris swing the nozzle and begin moving it in a perpendicular line. Instantly my eyes turned to the rock, and now I saw a second scarf cutting slowly from the top of the stone at right angles to the first. A moment more and the two grooves met and Harris' voice roused me from the semi-trance in which I had been held spellbound.

  "And the king summoned the Sun-God and the giants of the sky to cut the stones!" he quoted with a laugh. "See here!"

  As he spoke he stepped forward, grasped the upper portion of the granite, and lifted a section of it from the rest! I actually gasped. The rock had been completely severed, as smoothly as though it had been sawed from a block of wood!

  'There's the answer to your mystery!" cried Harris triumphantly, as he dropped the piece of stone back into place. "Easy enough when you know how—like everything else! Just have a look and see if you can find any traces of 'fused stone' along those cuts."

  "But what—how—?" I stammered, as I bent close and examined the marvel.

  "By the same—or at least a very similar method to that used by the Pre-Incas," he stated. "I've had a theory, a suspicion, for three years, and have been working and experimenting on that line. But it wasn't until you came upon that metal flask—by the way I've learned the secret of the metal alloy—that I obtained any really worth-while results, That flask, my friend, was one of the gadgets the old fellows used. I don't imagine there were many of them knocking about, and this one still contained the materials that were essential to success and that had baffled me, I——"

  "But I don't understand it—yet," I broke in. "How was it done? What has that cylinder to do with it?"

  "Everything," he replied. "Tha
t tank is merely an enlarged version of your flask. The nozzle represents the neck of the old jar and the valves are modern conveniences to control the operation. I expect the old Peruvians used up the contents of their flasks each time and had to make new ones.

  “As to how it was done," he continued, "you saw for yourself. All that is necessary is to turn-on the jet, move it along the surface of the stone and the trick's done. See here!"

  As he spoke he again grasped the nozzle, adjusted the valves, and before my still incredulous and amazed eyes he cut the granite into various forms. He might have been using a jig-saw on a piece of pine, as far as results were concerned. Even then I could not force myself to believe I was not suffering from some hallucination. I felt as if at any moment I would wake up and find it all a wild dream.

  But Harris was again speaking as he lifted and examined the circular, elliptical, octagonal and other shaped blocks he had cut out with his mysterious apparatus. "You see," he said, as he ran an exploring finger along a surface of the cut stone, "it's a good deal like the acetylene torch in its results. It—"

  "But," I objected, "there's no flame, no jet, no glow, not even a sound from the nozzle. How the devil can the thing cut this stone without showing any trace of a jet or flame?"

  "I was coming to that," he said, "but you keep interrupting me before I can finish. Not that I blame you"—he hastened to add, "for I can well understand your feelings, your excitement and your incredulity. I felt that same way myself when I first saw the thing work. But about the flame or jet. There is nothing of that sort, for this apparatus differs radically from the acetylene torch. The only resemblance is in the results obtained. But even in that there is a great difference. This doesn't melt or fuse the stone—you very cleverly brought up that argument against the melting theory yourself. No, it causes a disintegration, a chemical or rather, I think, an electronic alteration in the rock. That greenish vapor is, I think, the fumes of various constituents—perhaps mainly pyroxene—being thrown off as new atomic combinations are formed. Perhaps I might compare it to the vapors or fumes that are produced when you treat a mineral with an acid. But—"

  "Yes, yes!" I again interrupted impatiently. "But how, man? How? You say it's not heat, not a flame. Do you mean it's some chemical action?"

  He shook his head. "You're hopelessly impatient," he declared. "No it's not chemical. For that matter I can place a piece of wood, my hand —— for all I know my whole body— between the nozzle and the stone without affecting the results or the organic matter. If you don't believe that, just watch me,"

  Before I could expostulate, he had again turned on the valves, and though his hand was pressed over the opening in the nozzle, I saw the stone once more being cut (sawed is a better term) as marvelously as before.

  I sank back in my chair, spent, exhausted, utterly limp with the nerve-tension, the excitement of the whole incredible affair.

  Harris was grinning from ear to ear. "No wonder the natives thought the old king called on the Sun-God and the genii of the sky," he cried. "And you weren't so far off where you suggested the flask might hold a couple of imprisoned genii. Metaphorically speaking it did—it contained the genii that cut the stone. I—"

  "I honestly wish," I said, "that you'd drop all that and explain how the marvel is accomplished. Just what does cut the rock?"

  "A ray," he replied. "I thought I'd said so already. I don't know myself just what sort of a ray it is. Possibly it's just some new form of vibratory wave. But I call it a ray— though for that matter, what's a ray except a vibratory wave—and tentatively I've called it the Inti-ray in honor of the old chap who—according to the fable—called on Inti the Sun-God for help. You see I've been so busy getting the thing to work, I haven't had time to work out the peculiarities of the ray itself—its vibratory rate, its properties, etc, I—"

  "But I thought you said the contents of the old flask solved the problem? How the deuce could anything in that flask help you to produce an entirely new ray? I suppose you'll be telling me next that there was some electrical or magnetic or radio machine in the thing."

  Harris smiled. "No, not that," he assured me, as though I'd been in earnest. "You see this ray—like a lot of others—is produced by some complex chemical reaction—some sort of decomposition, though no doubt the ray itself is an electric, a magnetic or an electronic phenomenon. In a way—well, perhaps I can make it clearer to you by comparing it to the current generated by a battery. In the cell—whether dry or wet —we have a chemical action, but the resultant current is not chemical, And I might further point out that by passing an electrical current through many substances, a chemical change is produced. Frankly, I don't believe I'd ever have succeeded if it hadn't been for the old flask that luckily contained two chemical compounds that were essential. "And—" he laughed heartily— "the funny part of it is, I'd had both those chemicals under my hands all along and had never thought to test them."

  "What made you think the stuff in the jar had anything to do with the ray or the stone-cutting?" I asked him. "How did you know they were not poisons or—well, stuff used in ceremonies, for example?"

  "By deduction and elimination coupled with plain logic and a fairly comprehensive knowledge of chemistry, plus a 'hunch'," he replied. "Having the solving of the problem of stone continually on my mind, everything new or inexplicable or puzzling became, subconsciously of course, associated with the problem. It's a habit I possess, and it has more than once helped me to solve seemingly insoluble problems in the past. You see one never knows when one may come upon the key to a puzzle. I work like a super-detective of fiction. Everything regarding which there is any question appears to me as a possible clue. And your flask came under that category. It was new, puzzling, mysterious. Neither of us could think up any reason for the thing, any use to which it might have been put. Consequently, I reasoned, it must have been designed for some purpose of which we were both ignorant. And naturally, first and foremost to my mind, came the stone-cutting. Then, when I found it contained some sort of material, I jumped to the conclusion that the material might and probably did have something to do with the same problem. And when I found the metal was different from anything known, I reasoned that it, too, was an essential part of solving the puzzle. Finally, when I got at the contents, I was convinced I was right and having long before theoretically reached conclusions and having reasoned out the soundness of my theory to my own satisfaction, I knew beyond any doubt that I'd found the secret. All I had to do was to construct a better and more efficient tank of the same metal as the flask, fill its compartments with the chemical compounds, subject them to the proper reagent, and—Presto! the thing was done."

  "It all sounds quite simple," I said. "But I can't really believe it yet. To think that those old pre-Incans had a knowledge of chemistry and rays! It seems incredible."

  "I doubt if they did.” declared Harris. "In all probability they hit upon this thing by accident. Such a thing is perfectly reasonable."

  "But what were the chemicals and what sort of metal was used in malting that flask?" I asked him.

  "The metal was an alloy of gold and lead," he replied. "At first I mistook it for a new metal, but I soon discovered my mistake. The chemicals—well, I don't suppose you'd understand if I gave you their formulae, but both are of the radioactive group of metallic salts. One is derived from vanadate of lead, the other from a complex mercury ore that is quite common in Peru, especially at high altitudes. And the reagent is—well, spring water!" Then, seeing my expression of incredulity, he added: "But not common everyday spring water. It's a highly mineralized water with slight radioactive properties and I don't doubt you've imbibed many quarts of it—it's widely used in Peru."

  I breathed a deep, long breath, almost a sigh. "No wonder the pre-Incans could do marvels in stone cutting," I observed. "But why do you suppose the secret was lost? Why wasn't it handed down? And—good heaven, Harris—I hadn't thought of it before; but your discovery will revolutionize the world
! It will do away with rock-drills, tunneling machines, dynamite—a thousand and one machines and devices for cutting, drilling and boring rock! And —by Jove! No wonder the Chavins could hew forts and buildings out of mountain sides. No wonder the old fellows here could cut that arch, mere child's play."

  "I expect it was—for them," he agreed. "But I'm afraid you're over enthusiastic and optimistic as regards the benefits that will accrue; to the modern world owing to the discovery of how the pre-Incans cut their stones. You see, as far as known there is not enough of these mineral salts in the world to enable anyone to use the method on a commercial scale. Possibly that's why the pre-Incas lost the art and failed to hand it down—probably used up most of the material and didn't know where there was more. Possibly the old tale of devils may be allegorical of that fact."

  "Well, you've solved the biggest mystery of the ancient races of America," I said. "And that's enough to satisfy anyone. Now you've explained the thing, it strikes me as rather remarkable that no one else ever hit upon your theory. But—"

  "I don't agree with you." he interrupted. "I haven't solved the mystery any more than you have. If you, hadn't dug up that old flask, I'd be no nearer proving my theory than ever. And someone has always got to be the first to think up some new theory. But I'm not done yet. I want to learn all there is to be known about that Inti-ray, as I call it, and I want to test the thing on a big scale —I want to try cutting a block of the solid mountain side."

  Chapter V

  The Invisible Inti-ray

  I couldn't blame Harris for wanting to try out his discovery on a big scale, as he put it. I could quite appreciate his desire to see the invisible ray saw through the solid mountain side and cut a mass of granite or diorite, weighing thirty or forty tons, from the mother rock. But Harris had even more ambitious plans. A few days after his amazing demonstration he informed me that he had calculated the amount of materials required to cut a definite amount of stone, and that he had enough or could secure enough from a deposit not far away, to enable him to do some cutting on a gigantic scale.