"All right. Down!"

Down went the Gasowashine. And a very small fraction of one second later things began to happen.

Each of Hawkins' inventions possesses a latent devil. You have only to brush against the handle or the valve or the string, or whatever it may be that connects him with the outer world, and the demon awakes.

In this case, the cook must have pinched the tail of the devil of the Gasowashine, for he sprang into action with a rush.

"Is it to release the hold?" asked the Frenchman as the wheels touched the floor.

"No, not till I--hey!" cried Hawkins, starting back in amazement.

"Our--our dishes!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the manager breathlessly.

The Gasowashine and the cook were traveling across the kitchen together.

The Frenchman, with remarkable presence of mind, was behind the machine and dragging back with all his might; but as well could he have hauled to a standstill the locomotive of the Empire State Express.

The Gasowashine, puffing heavily as any racing auto, had plans of its own and was executing them to the accompaniment of a simply appalling rattle of crockery.

"Don't let go! Don't let go!" cried Hawkins. "Keep hold, my man!"

"I do! I do! _Mais, mon Dieu!_" called the Frenchman jerkily.

"But, Mr. Hawkins," gasped the manager as we hurried after, "what will become of our china?"

"The devil take your china!" snapped Hawkins, forgetful of his recent guarantee. "If they run into the wall, it'll break the motor!"

They were not going to run into the wall. The Gasowashine approached the side of the apartment, swerved easily to the left, and made for the incline which led to the hotel dining-room.

"Good gracious!" screamed the manager. "Not up there! Knock that thing over on its side, Henri!"

"Don't you do it, Henri," cried Hawkins. "If you do it'll smash."

"Let it smash!" roared the manager. "Throw it over, Henri!"

"But I cannot," gasped the Frenchman as the Gasowashine sets its wheels upon the incline.

"Here! Somebody get in front of that thing!" commanded Macdougal. "Don't let it go up. Knock it over!"

"If you knock that over!" stormed Hawkins, springing to the side of his contrivance and feeling excitedly for the valve which should shut off the supply of gasolene.

Two or three waiters, having in mind that their jobs depended upon Macdougal's approbation rather than Hawkins' strove to obey the former's injunction. They ran to the fore end of the Gasowashine and seized it and pushed back upon it and sideways.

And did the Gasowashine mind? Hardly.

It bowled the first man over so neatly that he fell squarely beneath one of his fellows, who was descending loaded with dishes. It rolled one of its wheels across the toes of the next antagonist, and drew from him a shriek which sent people in the dining-room to their feet.

After that _coup_, the Gasowashine had things all its own way on the incline.

The French cook still maintained his hold. Hawkins pranced alongside and fumbled feverishly, first with that k.n.o.b, then with this little wheel.

Several of them he managed to move, but to no good end. Whether excitement had confused Hawkins' mind on the details of his invention I cannot say; but certainly, far from controlling the Gasowashine, he made matters worse.

The machine puffed harder, the wheels revolved more rapidly, and the whole affair climbed steadily toward the dining-room, dragging the tenacious cook along the incline in a sitting posture.

Thus was made the first public appearance of the Gasowashine, to the utter amazement of some hundred diners.

Bursting through the doors, it snorted for a moment, and seemed to be considering the long rows of tables before it. Several waiters, gasping with astonishment at the uncouth apparition, ran to check its progress.

That seemed to stir the Gasowashine anew. It emitted a sharp puff of rage and plunged headlong forward.

Hawkins pranced along by its side, half turning as he ran to cry:

"Now, just--just make way, ladies and gentlemen, please. It's not at all dangerous. Just make way."

They made way, without losing any undue amount of time.

One or two women fainted unostentatiously.

Most of them, men and women, scrambled away from the main aisle, which seemed to have been selected by the Gasowashine for its further performances.

"Hawkins," I panted when I had managed to regain breath, "why don't you knock the cursed thing over?"

"There, there, there, Griggs," sizzled Hawkins, dashing the perspiration from his eyes. "I've almost control of it now. I'll just shut off this----"

He gave a powerful twist at one of the handles.

"That'll----" he began.

"Pouff!" roared the Gasowashine, rearing up and lunging wildly from side to side for a moment.

Then it started down the aisle in earnest. Bang! Bang! Bang! echoed from the crockery inside. Puff! Puff! Puff! said the motor, driving its hardest.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_I shall let go? Yes?_"]

"_Ciel!_" wailed the cook "I shall let it go? Yes?"

"No!" shouted Hawkins, running beside the unhappy man. "In just a second it'll----"

It did, although not perhaps what Hawkins expected.

I saw a little door in the side of the infernal machine flip open. I perceived a shower of finely subdivided crockery hanging over the cook for a moment.

Then the bits of china and some two or three gallons of greasy water descended upon the Frenchman and the door flipped to once more. The Gasowashine had dislodged the cook and was free to pursue its wanderings unhindered.

And certainly it made the most of the opportunity.

For three or four yards it b.u.mped along, ramming its top-heavy nose into the carpet and seeming to become more and more enraged at its slow progress. Then it paused a moment and pawed at the floor with its whizzing wheels.

I fancied that I could upset it then, and sprang forward to do so, regardless of Hawkins.