The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell E-Book

Levi Parker Wyman

• Herausgeber: Interactive Media
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

In the heart of Skowhegan, Maine, two adventurous brothers, Jack and Bob Golden, navigate the exciting world of science and exploration. With their father's unwavering support, the boys transform their basement into a hub of creativity, turning their innovative ideas into reality. Their latest creation, a revolutionary electric cell, promises to revolutionize the world, but also draws the attention of unscrupulous individuals willing to go to any lengths to claim its secrets. "The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell" is a captivating tale of adventure, ingenuity, and the unbreakable bonds of brotherhood. It's a story that sparks the imagination and inspires young minds to explore the world with curiosity and courage.

Leseprobe

Levi Parker Wyman

The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell

Published by Sovereign

This edition first published in 2023

Copyright © 2023 Sovereign

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 9781787368149

Contents

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XX.

CHAPTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXII.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CHAPTER XXIV.

CHAPTER I.

THE NEW CELL.

“Say, Jack, do you have any idea that this thing is going to work?”

“I don’t know, Bob, the theory is all right, but how it will work out in practice is a cat of another color; one thing is sure, though, and that is if it don’t work we are out of the running in the race, for the new boat the Jenkins boys have just bought, will run circles round the Sprite.”

“Well, we’ll soon know, for it’s about ready to test.”

This conversation took place one afternoon in the latter part of July in the basement of a house in Skowhegan, Maine. The room was fitted up as a combined workshop and laboratory, and a single glance would indicate that the two boys were by no means novices, for it contained many expensive and intricate pieces of machinery.

Jack and Bob Golden, 15 and 17 years old respectively, were sons of a rich manufacturer, who had made a large part of his fortune through his own inventions. Mr. Golden was an indulgent father and seeing that his inventive genius had descended to his sons, had fitted up a modern machine shop and laboratory for them and had supplied them liberally with money for experiments. He had by no means been disappointed in the results, for although they were but boys, they had already worked out several designs, which had been patented and had proved very successful.

Mr. Golden was proud of his boys and with good reason. They were large for their age, Bob standing 5 feet 10 inches in his stockings and Jack being but two inches shorter. They were fine, manly, looking fellows, and their clean-cut open faces told that they were generous to a fault and were boys to be trusted.

The rest of the family consisted of Mrs. Golden, a small lovable woman, and a daughter Edna, 14 years old, who was almost worshipped by her big brothers. Altogether they were as happy and jolly a family as one would find in a long journey.

Through the center of the town ran the Kennebec river, and six miles to the north lay a beautiful sheet of water, five miles long by two wide, known as Hayden Lake. Here the boys kept their motorboat, and as Mr. Golden had a large cottage on the shore of the lake, the family spent the greater part of the summer there. The shores of the lake were dotted with cottages, and probably thirty or more motor boats were owned by the people who made the place their summer home. During each summer many races were held, and proud indeed was the boy or man who secured the blue ribbon given to the winner of the final race held the first week in August.

“I say, Jack,” shouted Bob from the farther side of the room where he was closely watching a piece of electrical apparatus, “shut down the dynamo, will you? I want to look at these cells and see how they are coming. We ought to have about enough in the first one.”

“Right you are, son!” replied Jack as he turned a lever, and as the hum, which had filled the room ceased, he added, “There you are.”

Bending over a glass tank, which was about 12 inches square by 8 deep, and nearly filled with dilute sulphuric acid, Bob disconnected two wires and reaching in his hand, lifted out a cylinder of metal about 6 inches long and 1½ inches thick.

“Hurrah,” he shouted, “she’s almost full. Now in about a minute we’ll know whether or not we’ve wasted our time during the last week. Have you got those caps all ready and is the motor in trim?”

“Sure thing,” replied Jack. “But say, Bob, I’m mighty nervous; suppose it don’t work.”

“Well,” said Bob slowly, “it won’t be the first time we’ve had to try again. If there is any trouble I feel sure it’s in the caps, for this manganese dioxide was made by the electric current, and if the caps make it decompose into manganese and oxygen, the same amount of electricity will be produced as was used in making it. It’s the same principle as the regular storage battery, only we are going to do without the plates and sulphuric acid.”

“That’s all right,” said impatient Jack, “but hurry up and hitch it on and let’s get the anxiety over with.”

While talking, Bob had screwed on to each end of the cylinder a metal cap which had attached to its middle an insulated wire. He now laid the cylinder on a table and fastened each of the wires to a terminal of a small, but powerful electric motor.

“All right now, switch her on and let’s see her hum.”

Instantly Jack threw over the lever, but, alas for the hopes of the boys, nothing resulted. As they looked at each other keen disappointment was evident on both faces. Almost instantly, however, Jack grabbed his brother by the arm and almost shouted.

“Well, if I’m not the original clumsy Claude.”

“What is it? Tell me quick.”

“Why, don’t you see? I gave you two positive caps instead of a positive and negative.”

Bob quickly picked up the cylinder, and a glance told him that his brother was right. Quickly unscrewing one cap he replaced it with a similar appearing one, but which was marked — instead of +.

“Now we’re off again, switch her on,” and this time, to their intense delight, no sooner was the switch thrown than the little motor sprang to life, and the armature began to revolve with a whirl which seemed to shout success to the two boys. Catching hold of each other’s hands they danced about the room fairly shouting their joy.

“For mercy sakes, what is this, a new kind of a war dance?” asked a mild voice, and stopping just at the beginning of a wild yell, the boys saw that their father had entered the room.

“Oh, dad,” cried both boys, running to him and catching him by the arms. “It works, it works. Just see it go.”

“Well, well, so it does, so it does,” said Mr. Golden eagerly. “Boys, I certainly congratulate you; you have done a big thing and if it works as well as it seems to be doing, it will be one of the greatest inventions of the day.”

“Now,” said Jack, “we must see how long it will—hold on a minute,” and to their amazement he rushed to the back door flung it open and dashed across the yard. He was gone fully five minutes and when he returned was panting for all he was worth.

“Didn’t you see him?” he demanded.

“See who?” asked Bob.

“Why, sure as I live, Fred Jenkins was looking in that window. He lit out, though, and got away before I could get out.”

“What do you suppose he wanted?” asked Mr. Golden.

“Well, I’ll tell you, dad,” replied Bob. “Ever since we came down from the lake Fred and Will Jenkins have been trying to find out what we’ve been doing. You know they almost got us on that new vibrator we invented, owing to our carelessness in leaving it on the table one day when they came in.”

“Yes,” broke in Jack, “and they are just mean enough to sneak round and try to steal our new storage cell.”

“We’ve got to be mighty careful this time,” continued Bob, “and not let one of those caps get into their hands, for the secret of the whole thing is in them, as it is the action of the different metals composing them which starts the manganese dioxide to decomposing and converts its chemical energy into electricity.”

“Well, come on boys,” said Mr. Golden as soon as Bob had finished. “Your mother sent me down to tell you to come to supper, and we mustn’t be late, as she has company.”

“All right,” was Bob’s reply. “Just let me connect the motor with this clock. You see,” he explained, “I have it arranged so that when it stops the clock will stop also and we can tell how long it has run.”

Several times that evening the boys ran down to the basement to see if the motor was still going, and as it was humming merrily at 10:30, they decided to go to bed and trust to the clock to tell them when it stopped.

Early the next morning they rushed to the laboratory before they were half dressed, to find the motor silent and the hands of the clock pointing to 4:35.

“Whoop,” shouted Jack, as he caught sight of the face of the clock, “that’s almost twelve hours, just think of it Bob. One of those cylinders will run the Sprite ten or twelve hours, and it wasn’t full either.”

“It’s sure great,” returned Bob with no less enthusiasm. “I guess we’ll show the Jenkins some sailing now.”

“That’s what we will,” agreed Jack. “Now we must get busy and fill some more of those cylinders.”

CHAPTER II.

JACK TAKES A BATH.

“Come there, I say, are you going to sleep all day?”

Jack Golden was just dreaming that he had run the Sprite into a big rock and was much relieved to find that the resulting thump was nothing more serious than the bang of a pillow thrown at his head by his brother.

“Hey, cut that out,” he mumbled, but half awake. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Time you were up and dressed,” was Bob’s answer. “Today is Wednesday, and the race is Saturday, and, take it from me, we have a lot of work cut out for us before then if we are going to get the Sprite ready.”

“I guess that’s right, all right,” was the sleepy answer. “If we’re going to get that new motor installed in the Sprite, we sure have got to hustle. I’ll be dressed in less than half a shake.”

It was not yet 5 o’clock, but the Golden boys were early risers, especially when they had work to do.

Quickly dressing, they rushed down to the laboratory where they found old Mike busily engaged sweeping up the dirt they had made the day before. Mike McGinty was an Irishman and was very proud of that fact. It was his boast that “Ivery bone in my body is pure Irish, and don’t you fergit it, young feller.” He was about 40 years old, and for the last twenty years had been man-of-all-work for the Goldens. He was very quick witted, good natured, had a decided mechanical turn, and his “byes,” as he called Bob and Jack, were “the finest iver,” and woe betide the person who said anything against them in his hearing. A good part of his time was spent helping the boys in the laboratory, and he was so careful and trustworthy that they found his help almost indispensable.

While waiting to be called to breakfast, the boys packed up what tools and material they would need, for as soon as possible they intended to start for the lake and put a new twenty horsepower electric motor in the Sprite. Jack had just put the last tool in place when the breakfast bell rang.

As soon as the meal was finished, Bob said: “Jack, you run over to the garage and bring round the big car and Mike and I will get the stuff up from the lab.”

“Bejabers and do yees think ye’re agoing to take all that truck in the car?”

“Sure, Mike, there’s lots of room in the back. Here’s Jack now. Easy now with that motor and don’t for mercy’s sake, drop it. If we break it there’ll be no time to get it fixed.”

In addition to the tools and motor they were taking a lot of cooked stuff, for they did not intend to come down till they had finished, and as the family were not at the lake just then, there was no one to cook for them, and the boys did not want to take the time, although they could cook when necessary.

Soon all was packed in the rear of the car and saying goodbye to the folks, who had come to see them off, they started with Bob at the wheel, Jack beside him, while Mike sandwiched himself in the back seat.

It was a run of about ten miles to the cottage, as it was at the extreme upper end of the lake, but Bob was a fast driver, and in about thirty minutes their destination hove in sight.

“Well, byes, here we are, right side up wid care, bejabers,” shouted Mike, tumbling out of the machine as it came to a stop. “Sure and I thought I’d break ivery blessed Irish bone in me body bumping round wid all that truck.”

“I guess Irish bones must be pretty strong,” laughed Jack, as he unlocked the door of the boathouse.

It was but a few minutes’ work to unload, and soon all three were in the boathouse busily engaged taking the old engine out of the Sprite and so rapidly did they work, stopping only for a cold bite at noon, that by 6 o’clock it was all apart and out of the boat.

“Now, Jack, while Mike and I are packing this stuff away suppose you take the canoe and see if you can get a few perch for supper,” proposed Bob. “You will find some worms in that pail in the corner.”

“Right you are, son, perch is my middle name,” replied Jack, and in almost less time than it takes to tell it, he had the little canoe in the water and was paddling across toward a little cove, the best fishing ground on the lake.

“Guess I’ll try trolling first,” he said to himself, and baiting a hook, he let out about forty feet of line and began rowing at a rate just sufficient to keep the canoe in motion. The fish bit well, and in less than a half hour he had a dozen fine perch flopping about in the bottom of the boat.

“No use in catching more than we can use,” he thought, as he reeled in his line and started for the other shore. Hardly had he taken up the oars however, when, looking up, he saw a new motorboat coming rapidly up the pond, and only a short distance away. “That’s the Jenkins boys in their new boat, the Winner, and she sure is some boat,” thought Jack.

“Hello there, sonny, how they biting?” shouted Will Jenkins, as soon as they were within hearing distance.

“Fair,” replied Jack as shortly as possible, for he did not relish being called “sonny” by them.

“Say,” shouted Fred Jenkins, “are you going to enter the Sprite in the race Saturday?”

“Mebbe.”

“Well, it won’t be any use; we can run circles round your old tub with this boat.”

“She certainly does look fast,” replied Jack.

“Fast? She’s a streak, and look at her name—that’s no lie.”

While talking the Jenkins boys had shut down their engine, and the two boats were only about thirty feet apart.

“Well, so long, we’ll see you Saturday, if you can manage to keep in sight,” taunted Fred, as he threw over the fly wheel of his engine.

The Winner started off at a good speed straight for the canoe. Probably Fred did not intend to run Jack down, but he evidently purposed to come as close as possible without hitting and give him a good scare. But just as he was going to turn to avoid hitting the canoe, something went wrong with the tiller and the next moment Jack was in the water. He could swim like a fish and shaking the water out of his eyes he struck out for the canoe which was floating bottom up a few feet away.

“You clumsy Claudes,” he shouted as he caught hold of the canoe. “Isn’t the lake big enough for you to turn your old scow in?” Jack was mad clear through, for it had looked to him as though Fred had hit him intentionally. Fortunately, the canoe was so light, that it was not stove in, and he had little trouble in righting it and climbing in. Meanwhile, the Winner had come about.

“Say, Jack, I didn’t mean to hit you; my tiller rope stuck and I couldn’t turn her,” said Fred. “Are you all right?”

“I guess so, but the next time you want to give me a wider berth or I’ll be tempted to put a head on you.”

“Ho, ho, hear the young bantam! Suppose you learn how to spell able.”

Jack said nothing more but paddled about and managed to pick up all but two or three of his fish, while the Winner headed down the lake and was soon lost to sight round the bend.

“Just the same I don’t believe he tried very hard not to hit me,” muttered Jack as he headed the canoe toward the cottage.

He found that Bob and Mike had just finished packing away the old engine and told them what had happened.

“Begorra,” said Mike, “that was a mean trick. If I had them two young saplin’s in me hands I’d rap their two heads together, so I would.”

“Well,” said Bob, “perhaps it was as Fred said and only an accident, but he ought to be taught to be more careful. However no great harm is done and now let’s go up to the house and get some supper; I’m hungry enough to eat those fish raw.”

Supper over and the dishes washed, it was nearly 9 o’clock, and the boys decided that they would go to bed and be up bright and early in the morning.

It seemed to Bob that he had hardly touched the pillow when some one began to shake him and opening his sleepy eyes he saw Mike standing by his bed, holding a lantern in his hand.

“Jump up and dress quick,” he said, “some one is trying to get in to the boathouse. I was smoking a last pipe by the window and saw him sneaking round.”