"
"I wonder what he thinks he's doing there?" pondered Dick curiously.
"To think that a few grains of this wonderful substance would
pulverize a regiment!" continued Garwood, in an inventor's ecstasy.
"An ounce of this wonderful material enough to blow up an army
corps. A single pound sufficient to bring the nations of the
world to my feet in awed homage. And I can make a hundred pounds
a day of it! Oh, that I could reach other worlds, to make them
feel my mastery!"
"If his stuff is as good as he thinks it is, I certainly hope
he won't shoot off any of it accidentally," thought Prescott,
with an odd little shiver.
"Oh, that I dared trust my secret to one or two others!" murmured
Garwood, as he delved with one hand into one of the boxes that
supported his simple bench. "And now for the great finishing
touch!"
Amos Garwood placed on the board a fairsized wide-mouthed bottle.
From where he stood, Dick could read the label on the bottle---
"Potassium Chlorate---crystals."
"Chlorate of potash?" thought Dick. "That's what Dr. Bentley
gave me once for sore throat."
Dick, however, was soon to get an inkling of a suspicion that
chlorate of potash might be used to serve other purposes.
As the mentally queer inventor reached into the box for that bottle,
the three silent, observing "Injuns" saw that Garwood had on the
crude table before him a glass mortar and pestle, the former of
about two quarts' capacity.
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