The extent of our interest and curiosity may be gauged by the fact that we barely glanced into the prism to see how the little people had fared and, once we were assured that they were quite all right, we did not even wait to witness their morning devotions and ceremonies, nor to watch for the reappearance of Kora the princess.
Fortunately, Ramon had quite a quantity of Manabinite remaining on hand. To be sure it was all in small fragments, for he had made use of all the largest and best pieces in building up the one large prism. But we felt sure that the small pieces would serve for experimental purposes, and Ramon declared that the fragment that had produced the big gold spheres was no larger than some of those remaining.
But it was slow work cutting and polishing the pieces of mineral to form a proper prism, and it was well along in the afternoon when the first prism was ready for its test.
As we had worked, several matters had occurred to us that we had overlooked during the preceding night. One of these was the fact that the gold bead alone had been enlarged; that no other object, not even the table upon which it had rested, had been affected.
"By Jove!" I cried, when I thought of this and called my friend's attention to it. "It may be that only gold can be enlarged bodily. Otherwise how can you account for nothing else being affected?"
"Possibly you are right in that surmise," he assented, "but," he added, "I doubt it. More probably only the object in direct line of focus, or in the absolute line of vibration, is affected. In fact, it may be the stress and strain of other objects—slightly out of focus, so to say—trying to crowd through, that disrupts the Manabinite. However, we shall soon see. The prism is ready. Now to get my Quena and put the thing to a test. Shall we try it first on an ant?"
"If it works we shall have a monster to contend with," I said. "Have you any idea how much this prism magnifies?"
"If the stuff follows hard and fast laws, as it unquestionably does, then it should magnify approximately five hundred diameters."
"Then for the love of Heaven, don't try it on an ant!" I cried. "An ant five hundred times enlarged— an ant even if only one quarter of an inch in length— would be transformed to a monstrous terrible thing over ten feet in length! No, Ramon, let us proceed carefully, one step at a time, even if you are filled with impatience to attain your goal and your happiness. Let us first lest the prism on inanimate objects. We know it has worked on gold. Let us try it on a minute grain of sand, on a minute sliver of vegetable matter. Let us be sure you are right about the extent of magnification and then try it upon the most minute and inoffensive creature we can secure—upon a thrips or a soft-bodied larva, for instance."
"I suppose that's sensible." admitted my companion, "but it seems a pity to waste this crystal and a day's work just to repeat a phenomenon."
''It won't be wasted." I assured him. "You must be sure of the note, and it will teach us a great deal."
"Very well," he assented. "But why not combine several objects? We'll try a minute grain of sand, an almost invisible vegetable fibre, and—yes, a speck of gold, just to make sure that your idea that gold alone responds is not correct."
I agreed to this, and very soon we had the three almost invisible objects sharply focussed in the prism. The grain of sand—a mere speck of impalpable dust, appeared like a large cobblestone; the tiny flake of gold, chipped from one of the gold beads, appeared like a golden shaving, from a machine lathe, and the hair-like strand of plant fibre was revealed as a section of a rough, twisted rope.
Then, while I stood to one side and watched the table, the crystal and the practically invisible specks that marked the three objects, as I had never watched anything before, Ramon placed the Quena to his lips. The first few notes were those of the tune he had played the preceding evening. He was feeling about, searching for the final bar. And then, suddenly, so unexpectedly that I jumped, came the long-drawn wailing finale. I can swear I did not remove my eyes from the table for an instant. I can swear that as far as I could see, nothing happened to the objects there. Almost inaudible, through the notes of the Quena, I heard a peculiar twang, a rather musical sound, more like the sound of snapping a guitar string than anything else. For perhaps the tenth part of a second the table seemed to be blurred by a faint mist. That was all. I was still gazing at the enlarged, unaltered images of the grain of sand, the bit of fibre, the flake of gold.
"Evidently." I remarked with a laugh, "something is wrong, Ramon. Are you sure you had the right note ?"
As I spoke I stepped forward to examine the prism more closely. A sharp cry rose from my lips. I staggered back! The prism had vanished! So had the original grain of sand, the fibre and the gold! In place of the magnified images were the actual, solid enormously enlarged objects themselves! It had worked!
The miracle had happened a second time!"
Never have I been so utterly dumbfounded. I had been amazed, staggered by what Ramon had shown the evening before. But here it had happened again had taken place under my eyes, under my closest scrutiny, and I had not even been aware of it! There had been no movement, no alteration in anything. It was exactly as though the intangible images of the things had been instantaneously solidified.
Ramon was as excited, as pleased, as I was, and more elated. He had every reason to be. Not only had he proved the truth of his assertions, he had demonstrated that he could produce the mysterious magical note. And the test had proved that the properties of the Manabinite prisms were not confined to gold alone.
I believe Ramon worked all that night without cessation. I labored with him until I could remain awake no longer, and I must admit that in the intense interest, the mad desire to experiment with this new discovery, I completely forgot my ethnological studies, my notes and everything else.
When Ramon roused me for breakfast, he announced that a second prism was ready, and declared in most decisive terms that this one was to be used in a test on some living creature.
I agreed to this, for I was really as keen on learning whether any living organism could survive the transformation, as was Ramon. So, as soon as we had eaten, and had taken another peep at our microscopic Indian village, we searched about for some tiny organism of a harmless character. It was not a very satisfactory collecting ground for a naturalist. Ants there were in abundance, ground-beetles, worms, spiny caterpillars and other good-sized insects; but nothing small enough and inoffensive enough to warrant risking transforming it to the size of a full-grown man. But at last I discovered a colony of tiny land-snails under a stone.
Here were creatures that would be harmless, regardless of size, and I called to Ramon. But he was not satisfied. Snails, he declared, were far too low in the scale of nature to prove anything. They might survive when a more highly constituted creature would not.
"So might an insect," I reminded him. "And there is no vertebrate in existence small enough for our purposes. However, if we can find a thrips, he may answer. If he is transformed to a gigantic beast, I believe we could manage him. But it would he a shame to be forced to kill him. Think what a sensation a fifteen-foot thrips would cause in the Bronx Zoo!"
Presently we found the thrips we sought and, selecting the smallest of the lot, proceeded to Ramon's camp and secured the new prism. To try the experiment in his hut would be foolish, for the creatures, if enlarged five hundred times, would more than cover the table, to say nothing of breaking it down with their weight, and it was not pleasant to think of a pulpy, six-legged, elephantine beast, twelve feet or more in length, occupying our restricted quarters.
Hence we decided to make the test out of doors. We placed one of the snails before the prism, and to kill two birds with one stone, as it were, we placed the captive thrips upon the snail. Once more I watched intently as Ramon placed the Quena to his lips. Once again that startling, wailing note issued from the Incan flute. And once more nothing happened.
Fully expecting to find the gigantic image of the snail and the ferocious looking image of the thrips actually alive befor
e me, I stepped forward and hesitatingly touched the surface of the huge snail's shell. My jaw dropped, my eyes stared incredulously. There was nothing there! My hand felt only thin air, then the surface of the prism itself! And there, just where we had placed them, were the tiny snail and the minute thrips. No change had taken place. The test had proved an utter failure!
Ramon was as nonplussed, as chagrined as I was. What was wrong? Why had the experiment failed? "Are you sure you produced the same note as before?" I asked.
"Absolutely." he assured me.
"Possibly the prism is not precisely the same as the others," I suggested.
"It's within one five-hundredth of an inch of it," he affirmed.
"Hmm, do you suppose it's because it's out of doors?" I asked.
"No," he replied a bit sharply. "That couldn't affect it.”
'"Well, let's try it again," I said. "Perhaps it takes a stronger vibration in the open than in the hut. Get close to it this time, Ramon."
But the second test was no more successful than the first. Even when—risking any untoward event—we took the prism with the snail and thrips into the hut and made the test again, still there was no result.
Ramon bit his lip. I knew it was a terrible blow to him, he was totally at a loss. Then, slowly, deliberately, he placed a few grains of fine sand beside the snail and again blew that strangely penetrating note upon his Quena. The result was startling. Once more I heard that sharp musical twang. Once more I saw the crystal prism and its surroundings through a faint momentary haze. And, there before us, were three great uneven masses of quartz! Once more the magical prism had transformed the sand grains to boulders. But—that was the most amazing part of it—the tiny snail and its thrips companion remained unaltered, unchanged, still the same minute living organisms as before.
"That is the answer!" cried Ramon, throwing aside his Quena and sinking dejectedly upon his couch. "It works with stone, with metal, with vegetable substances, but it will not work with animate objects. I am lost—there is no chance of my winning Kora!"
Evidently he was right. The properties of the prism, linked with the sound vibration, did not extend to animals. Kora and her people could not be transformed to full-sized men and women. I was truly, deeply sorry for Ramon. He had counted so much upon it, had looked forward so confidently to the culmination of his experiments. But a sudden idea came to me. Almost an inspiration, I might say. It came so suddenly.
"Don't give up, old man!" I cried cheerily. ''I think we can overcome the difficulty yet."
"How?" he demanded brightening perceptibly.
"This is the way I look upon it." I said. "A certain note or vibration creates a certain reaction or agitation in the prism. You happened to produce the note that aroused the energies that would react on metal.
"The atomic structure or vibrationary structure, or whatever you may call it, of stone, even of vegetable fibres, also responds to that certain note, or more probably to other notes that you included in that one bar from your Quena. But living tissues must of certainty consist of a totally different atomic or vibrationary structure. Somewhere in the range of musical vibrations there must be a note that will force the prism to act upon such tissues. All you have to do is to find that note."
Ramon laughed hoarsely, insanely. "That is so simple!" he cried sarcastically. "Have you considered the number—the range of vibratory musical notes? No. of course you have not! You are not aware that they run into countless, incalculable millions. Even could the human ear differentiate them, could any instrument devised produce them all, it would require a lifetime—several lifetimes—to run through the entire gamut of such notes. And to attempt to find one—the one—at random, would be worse than hopeless."
"Nothing is hopeless." I assured him with far more confidence than I felt. "You found the one by accident. You may find the other the first time you try. Don't give up, Ramon. Think of Kora, think of what it may mean to you both. Remember, there's nothing like trying. And in all probability the desired note is very close to the one that works on stone and other material."
"Oh, I'm willing to try," he declared wearily. "I know it is hopeless. But it's my one chance of happiness."
"Fine!" I exclaimed, slapping him on the back. "No time like the present. Let's start now. And," I added, as another thought flashed through my mind. "I may be wrong. Possibly the prism may act on some forms of life and not on others. Perhaps, if we tested it on a warm-blooded creature, on a vertebrate, it might work. We might try it on a bird—on a dove for example. Even the most gigantic dove would be quite harmless."
Ramon smiled. His old sense of humor and vivacity was returning. "I don't know about that," he said. "A dove, one hundred feet in length and with a wing spread of three hundred feet, might cause most unpleasant results by perching upon one's house-top."
I chuckled. "Yes." I agreed, "but such birds might solve the question of aerial transportation. Tamed and trained, doves of that size could carry a number of passengers or several tons of freight from place to place."
"And exhaust the grain supplies of the world in six months," Ramon added.
"However, I don't think we need worry. I don't believe a vertebrate will be affected any more than an invertebrate. But we'll try. There are lots of subjects."
To recount all of the tests and experiments we made would be monotonous and of no importance. It is enough to say that we met with utter failure. We tried every form of insects, of mollusks, of crustaceans, even of reptiles that we could find—all without result. Then we decided to try the experiment upon a warmblooded vertebrate and, after a deal of trouble, we captured a gentle little ground-dove.
"I'm so certain it won't work, that I'd be perfectly willing to stand before the prism myself," declared Ramon, as we tethered our captive and he picked up his Quena.
"You'd be perfectly safe," I told him. "I cannot play the Quena!"
All was ready, and, once more, Ramon placed his lips to the flute and again that now familiar note shrilled through the air. But the little dove was still tugging at its tether, no larger than before.
"Didn't I say so?" cried Ramon. "It's no use. Living creatures are immune."
"See here!" I exclaimed. I have an idea. I don't know much about music, but I've learned something from you. Isn't it possible there is not enough power —enough quality or, or what do you call it—penetration—to the notes from the Quena? If I am right, the same note—any note—can be produced upon any properly constructed instrument possessing the same range. Could you produce this same note upon your violin?"
"Of course I can," he declared. "But it would have the same effect The vibrationary factor would be identical."
"Possibly," I admitted. "But how do you or I know. It won't do any harm to try. Get your fiddle, Ramon, and let's test it out."
Rather reluctantly, he agreed, and produced his violin. As he took up his position, I noticed that one of our burros was grazing near, and, in a half-subconscious way, I thought what a monstrous thing the jackass would be if he could be enlarged a thousand times or so. Near by, too, was one of our Cholo* laborers watching us at a safe distance, his dull brain probably wondering what deviltry we were up to, for our Cholos always regarded our scientific work as a form of witchcraft, and gave us a wide berth, for which we were duly grateful.
*Indian or half-breed servant
Then I turned to watch the result of this new test. Slowly Ramon drew his bow across the strings. Soft, beautiful notes came from the instrument, and then, with a sudden sweep of the bow, the wailing, piercing notes tore the air like a despairing scream.
Instantly there was the loud familiar twang, but far louder than before. Dove and crystal were hidden in a while cloud like a puff of steam. I fairly shouted with delight.
But my cry of triumph was drowned by a terrific yell from the watching Cholo.
"Madre de Dios!" he screeched, terror in his tone, "El burro! The donkey! The devil has taken him!"
CHAPTER XII
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I wheeled. The Cholo was racing off as fast as his feet could carry him, screaming as he went. But the donkey that had been there an instant before was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished completely! What had become of him. What had the Cholo meant when he said "the devil's gone off with the donkey"? Evidently something had frightened him half out of his few wits. But what? It might have been the twanging sound or the vaporous cloud, but neither of those could account for his yell regarding the burro. All these thoughts raced through my mind in the fraction of a second. They were interrupted by a shout from Ramon.
I turned to see him staring, pop-eyed, utter amazement written on his features, at the spot where the prism had been. The next instant I was doing likewise. And no wonder! The prism had completely disappeared, but there, just as we had tethered it, was the ground-dove, exactly the same size as ever!
We were both absolutely speechless with wonder. Had the dove been transformed into a human being, into a stone idol, into a dinosaur, we could not have been more amazed, more dumbfounded. Everything had happened exactly as I had hoped, as I had expected, as it had always happened when an object was transformed to magnified dimensions. There had been that unmistakable twang, there had been the cloud of vapor; the prism had vanished: but—there was the marvel of it—the dove had remained unaffected! It was beyond me, utterly beyond my reason or my comprehension. Something must have been transformed, my inner brain was telling me, something must have been altered in order to produce that typical twang and that cloud of vapor. And yet—.
An excited yell from Ramon shattered my thoughts. "Dios mio!" he cried, "I have it! I know!"
For Heaven's sake, what is it you have? What is it you know?" I demanded.
Ramon stooped and released the dove which fluttered off, mightily relieved at finding itself free once more. "It was the burro!" he exclaimed, his voice betraying his intense excitement despite his effort to speak calmly. "That's what the Cholo yelled about."
Into the Green Prism Page 12
