"Sure, I saw it!" assented the agriculturalist. "But that thing could only fly round in the _air_! The most it could do would be to go up five or six miles. You see, when you go higher up than that, there ain't any more air--and you'd _die_! Besides, the machine wouldn't _float_ unless there was air--any more'n a ship without water. That's why all this is just bunk." Tassifer glared disgustedly at Judson. Really, the fellow was too insignificant--too big a nincompoop to bother with! "Darn it, Judson," he said, with slow emphasis; "I don't want to quarrel with you, but what you don't know about flying machines would fill the Congressional Library. I've got to go home in a minute, but I've known you long enough not to want you to go around making an ass of yourself." "Don' say!" sneered Judson. "Now," continued Tassifer, "this flying machine hasn't anything to do with _air_ at all. It goes up, air or no air. It goes up through the air and through the nothingness above the air, and it can go up easier without air than with air, because then there isn't any resistance." "But what makes it go up?" inquired Judson. "What makes a rocket go up?" retorted Tassifer. "But it ain't a rocket!" "I didn't say it was. It's _like_ a rocket." "But a rocket has _gunpowder_." "Well, this has something or other--I forget what--to make it go--" concluded Tassifer lamely. "Anyhow--" "Rats!" snorted Judson. "You know a lot about it--_you_ do! You--" They might have landed under the bar in the tightly locked embrace of those defending their honor had not an unusual clamor from the avenue interrupted them. What seemed like the confused shoutings of a mob came through the closed windows. "What's that?" gasped Bentham. They paused, intent. Evidently, something had happened--an accident, maybe. They could hear a subdued, distant roar, in which were mingled the tooting of motors, the clanging of bells, the bellowing of whistles, and the cries and yells of excited humanity. A multitude of black shadows rushed by. The bartender threw open the window. The avenue was filled with a hurrying crowd--all gazing skyward. "Hooray!" yelled the crowd. "Hooray! Hooker's back! Hooray!" Tassifer and Judson looked at one another mutely. Suddenly, the bartender leaped out the window and joined the mob. The whole city was in the streets. "Come on, Judson!" cried Bentham. "If there's anything doing, let's be on the wagon!" And he climbed upon the sill and leaped after the bartender. Judson hesitated, emptied his glass, and followed. Over in the west, across the park, a great cloud of smoke and dust was rising against the crimson sky. "What's happened?" asked the now thoroughly sober Judson of a man who was hurrying by. "Don't know," panted the other. "People say comet's struck us!" "Comet Nothin'!" shouted a policeman. "It's Hooker's flying machine!" Judson grabbed Tassifer by the arm, and they hastened cheerfully along with the crowd.