"Dinotheriums," corrected Jack.

"Dat's what I said," observed Washington with dignity. "If I had one ob dem, I wouldn't hab t' weed mah garden. Where am one to be possessed ob, Ma.s.sa Jack?"

"I guess you were born a few million years too late," was the lad's answer. "They lived a few centuries before the flood."

"Good land!" exclaimed Washington, his eyes opening wide.

"Before Noah built de ark?"

"Yes."

"Landy gracious! Dat animai'd be so old by dis time dat he couldn't chew de weeds after he pulled'em. Guess I'll hab t'do mah own weedin'."

"I reckon you will," added Mark.

They went back to the machine shop, and for the next week were very busy over the Annihilator. It was beginning to a.s.sume shape, and some of the machinery was installed.

One evening, after a hard day's work, when they 'were all seated in the big living-room of Professor Henderson's home, discussing the progress they were making, Jack suddenly held up his hand for silence.

"What's the matter?"' asked Mark.

"I thought I heard somebody walking around the house," was the stout lad's answer.

"Maybe it's Washington," suggested the professor. "He generally goes out to see if his chickens are shut up. He is very proud of his flock of hens, and seems to hate to kill any for pot-pie."

They all listened. Plainly there was some one or some animal moving about under the windows of the living-room.

"That doesn't sound like Washington," said Mr. Roumann.

Just then the colored man, who had been upstairs, attending to some of the housework (for he was the only servant the professor kept), came down.

"Were you just outside, Washington?" asked Mr. Henderson.

"No, sah. I'se been upstairs, makin' beds."

"There it is again!" cried Jack suddenly.

The footsteps sounded more plainly, and one of the window shutters rattled.

"Dat's somebody after mah chickens!" exclaimed the colored man.

"I'se gwine t' git him, too!"

He started for the door, but the professor held him back.

"Let Andy go," he said. "He will make less noise than any of us."

He looked at the old hunter and nodded. Andy understood, and, taking his gun from a corner, slipped out of a side door, making no more noise than a cat.

The others, left in the living-room, waited in silence. They could hear the stealthy footsteps, which, however, seemed now to be moving away.

"I wonder who or what it can be?" murmured the professor. "This is the second time some one has been sneaking around here. I don't like it."

"It does look suspicious," admitted Jack. "Do you suppose the man you spoke of, Mr. Roumann, who you thought might try to discover your secret, has traced you here, and is endeavoring to steal it?"

"No, I hardly think so. I took good care to conceal my movements, and not even my closest friends know that I am here with Professor Henderson, making a projectile, the trip of which will astonish the world. No, I think this must be some other person."

"It's a pusson after mah chickens!" insisted Washington. "If yo'll allow me, perfesser, t' project mahself inter de promixity of his inner consciousness--"

"No, you just stay here," decided Mr. Henderson. "You might get into trouble if you went out and tried conclusions with a thicken thief, which I suppose is what you are trying to say you want to do."

"Dat's what I did say, perfesser."

They could no longer hear the footsteps, but the silence of the night was suddenly broken by the report of Andy's gun.

"There! He's shot at him!" cried Jack.

"I hope he disabled dat chicken stealer!" yelled the colored man.

"Anybody what'll steal chickens--"

"Hush!" commanded Mr. Henderson.

Another shot rang out, and then the sound of footsteps could be heard.

"He's running past here," called Jack, hurrying to the door.

He caught sight of a dark figure rushing past, and was about to follow, but the outline was immediately lost in the darkness, and Jack that it would be a useless move. Andy came up.

"Did you hit him?" cried Jack

"No. I only fired over his head," replied the old hunter.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know, but it was some man prowling around, and for no good purpose, I take it."

"Did he steal any ob my chickens?" asked Washington.

"No; he wasn't near the coop."

"I guess it was only a tramp," said Mr. Henderson.

"I hope he doesn't go near the machine shop," added Mr. Roumann.

"Still, if he did, the two machinists sleeping there would hear him."

They returned to the room, and Andy stood his gun in a corner.

The weapon was seldom far from him.

"What was he doing when you saw him?" asked Mr. Henderson.