“Well, then, if I build another,” corrected Hawkins, sobering suddenly, “I shall be careful not to use that rear arrangement at all. I shall place the valve of the balloon where I can get at it more easily. I shall----” “Mr. Hawkins,” said Brotherton, abruptly, “I thought I asked you to keep that cloth over your mouth until I get you where I can sew up that lip.” Apart from any medical bearing, it struck me that that remark indicated good, sound sense on Brotherton's part. CHAPTER IV. There are some men to whom experience never teaches anything. Hawkins is one of them; I am another. As concerns Hawkins, I feel pretty sure that some obscure mental aberration lies at the seat of his trouble; for my own part, I am inclined to blame my confiding, unsuspicious nature. Now, when the Hawkins' cook and the Hawkins' maid came “'cross lots” and carried off our own domestic staff to some festivity, I should have been able to see the hand of Fate groping around in my locality, clearing the scene so as to leave me, alone and unprotected, with Hawkins. Moreover, when Mrs. Hawkins drove over in style with Patrick, to take my wife to somebody's afternoon euchre, and brought me a message from her “Herbert,” asking me to come and assist him in fighting off the demon of loneliness, I should have realized that Fate was fairly clutching at me. By this time I should be aware that when Hawkins is left alone he doesn't bother with that sort of demon; he links arms with the old, original Satan, and together they stroll into Hawkins' workshop--to perfect an invention. But I suspected nothing. I went over at once to keep Hawkins company. When I reached his place, Hawkins didn't meet my eye at first, but something else did. For a moment, I fancied that the Weather Bureau had recognized Hawkins' scientific attainments, and built an observatory for him out by the barn. Then I saw that the thing was merely a tall, skeleton steel tower, with a wind-mill on top--the contrivance with which many farmers pump water from their wells. “Well,” remarked Hawkins, appearing at this point, “can you name it?” “Well,” I said, leaning on the gate and regarding the affair, “I imagine that it is the common or domestic windmill.” “And your imagination, as usual, is all wrong,” smiled Hawkins. “That, Griggs, is the Hawkins Pumpless Pump!” “What!” I gasped, vaulting into the road. “Another invention!” “Now, don't be a clown, Griggs,” snapped the inventor. “It is----” “Wait. Did you lure me over here, Hawkins, with the fiendish purpose of demonstrating that thing?” “Certainly not. It is----” “Just one minute more. Is it tied down? Will it, by any chance, suddenly gallop over here and fall upon us?” “No, it will not,” replied Hawkins shortly. “The foundations run twenty feet into the ground. Are you coming in or not?”