I smiled audibly. I think that Hawkins was about to take exception to the smile, but a voice from without bawled loudly: “Two--tons--nut!” “Ah, there she goes again!” said the inventor rapturously. This time the Crano-Scale executed a sudden detour before descending. Indeed, the thing came so painfully near to our perch that the wind was perceptible, and when the giant coal-scuttle had passed and dropped, my heart was hammering out a tattoo. “I don't believe this ledge is safe, Hawkins,” I said. “Nonsense.” “But that thing came pretty close.” “Oh, it won't act that way again. Watch! She's dumping into the wagon now! Hear it?” “Yes, I hear it. I see just what a beautiful success it is, Hawkins--really. Let's go.” “And now she's coming back!” cried the inventor, his eyes glued to the remarkable contrivance. “Observe the ease--the grace--the mechanical poise--the resistless quality of the Crano-Scale's motion! See, Griggs, how she swings!” I did see how she was swinging. It was precisely that which sent me nearer to the ladder. The Crano-Scale was returning to position, but with a series of erratic swoops that seemed to close my throat. The coal-scuttle whirled joyously about in the air--it was receding--no, it was coming nearer! It paused for a second. Then, making a bee-line for our little ledge, it dived through the air toward us. “Look out, there, Hawkins!” I cried, hastily. “It's all right,” said the inventor. “But the cursed thing will smash us flat against the wall!” “Tush! The automatic reacting clutch will----” The Crano-Scale was upon us! For the merest fraction of a second it paused and seemed to hesitate; then it struck the wall with a heavy bang; then started to scrape its way along our ledge. The wretched contraption was bent on shoving us off! “What will we do?” I managed to shout. “Why--why--why--why--why----” Hawkins cried breathlessly. But, my course of action had been settled for me. The scoop of the Crano-Scale caught me amidships, and I plunged downward into the coal. That there was a considerable degree of shock attached to my landing may easily be imagined. But small coal, as I had not known before, is a reasonably soft thing to fall on; and within a few seconds I sat up, perceived that I was soon to order a new suit of clothes, and then looked about for Hawkins. He was nowhere in the neighborhood, and I called aloud. “We--ll?” came a voice from far above. “Where are you?” “Hanging--to--the--scoop!” sang out the inventor. And there, up near the roof, I located him, dangling from the Crano-Scale coal-scuttle! “What are you going to do next?” I asked, with some interest. “I--I--I can't--can't hang on long here!” “I should say not.” “Well, climb out and tell them to lower the crane!” screamed Hawkins.