“Then come inside, and I’ll show you how she works, in order to make you familiar with the machine.” Leaving Barney on watch in the cage on deck, the young inventor went through the door, descended several steps, and the Mexican followed and found himself in the cabin. It was prettily furnished, and served as a dining-room. Forward of this room were two small apartments, one containing some bunks, and the other served as a kitchen, the range being heated by electricity. Still further forward was a large pilot-house, in which stood the darky managing the Jove’s steering wheel. This wheel controlled the small plane forward. A compass binnacle was beside him, and on the other side there was a table, on which were fastened several electric controllers, levers and switches, cut-outs and plugs. By means of the latter the mechanism of the air-ship was controlled by the pilot. At the stem of the Jove was a storeroom and a dynamo-room. The former compartment contained food, water, arms, ammunition, armor, ropes, clothing, tools, and various other things. In the engine-room was a huge generator, which was worked by powerful springs, its current running to the deck motor, to which the driving screws were geared. The current also illuminated numerous incandescent lamps, and worked several fan motors in each of the rooms. Frank explained everything to the Mexican. He then told Zamora to turn in, as he would have to go on watch at two in the morning. While he was speaking, Frank heard a distant yell in Pomp’s voice, and hastened up forward. “Stop dat, chile! Stop dat!” he heard Pomp howl wildly. “Be heavens!” chuckled Barney’s voice; “I’d be afther takin’ a batin’ first. Biff, ye divil, take that now!” “Ouch! my eye!” yelled the coon. “Fo’ de Lor’ sakes, yo’ want to kill me wif dat bean-shooter?” “Ha, ha, ha!” shouted the Irishman, gleefully. “It’s dook-shot I’m peggin’ at ye now, but it’s nothin’ less nor a cannon ball wud make a dent in that bullet-proof head you are wearin’.” Following this remark came a violent rattle of shot which flew from his bean-shooter, some of which hit Pomp and made him swear like a trooper. The Irishman was on deck, and was shooting the pellets at the coon’s head through the open windows of the tower. Poor Pomp had to grin and take it, too, for he dared not leave the wheel, for fear of some accident happening to the Jove. It was hard to tell how much more he would have stood of this bombardment had Frank not shouted: “Why don’t you shut the windows, you donkey?” “Lan’ sakes!” gasped Pomp, complying, “why didn’ I fink ob dat befo’? Golly! what a fool niggah I is!” The Irishman and the coon were all the time playing practical jokes on one another, and the moment Barney heard Frank’s voice, he looked startled and bolted for the cage. But he did not reach it. Tripping over a chest, he fell to the deck.