The Willoughby Captains - Reed Talbot Baines - Страница 22

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“What are you trying to do?” said Cusack.

“Cut a bit off,” said Philpot, trying to stick the substance with a long bodkin, in order to hold it steady.

“Why, that’s not the way to cut it, you old dolt,” said Pilbury. “Here, I’ll do it,” and he advanced to the saucer.

“What’ll you do?”

“Why, fish it out, of course, and cut it then.”

“You’d better not try. It’s phosphorus.”

“Is it, though — and what does it do?”

“Burn you, rather, unless you keep it in water. Ah, got him at last.”

So saying Philpot triumphantly spiked the obstinate piece of phosphorus, and succeeded in cutting off a small piece.

“Is that what makes the flare-up?” asked Cusack.

“Yes, wait a bit, till I get the jar.”

“What jar?” asked Pilbury. “Here’s one; will this do?”

“Look out, I say!” exclaimed Philpot, in great excitement; “let it go, will you?”

“What’s the row?” asked Pilbury and Cusack, both in alarm.

“Why, that’s got my oxygen in it,” cried Philpot, securing the bottle and gently lifting it on to the table, taking care to hold the glass plate that covered the mouth in its place.

“Got his what in it?” asked Cusack.

“Oxygen. It took me an hour to get.”

“There’s nothing in that empty jar,” said Pilbury, laughing. “Isn’t there, though?” said Philpot; “it’s full.”

“You mean to say that jar’s full of something,” said Cusack. “Look here, don’t you try to stuff us up. What’s the use of saying it’s full when it’s empty?”

“It’s full of gas, I tell you,” said Philpot. “Don’t you talk till you know.”

This rebuke somewhat silenced the two devotees of science, who, however, continued to regard the jar sceptically and rather contemptuously.

Philpot next dived into a drawer and drew from it a large cork, through which passed a long wire having a small cup at the lower end.

“Now look out,” he said.

He proceeded to shovel the small piece of phosphorus into the little cup under the cork, and drawing it out of the water, applied a light. The phosphorus lit up immediately, and at the same instant he slipped the glass plate off the mouth of the oxygen jar, and clapped the cork, with the wire and cup hanging down from it, in its place. The effect was magical. The moment the phosphorus was introduced into the oxygen it flared up with a brilliancy that perfectly dazzled the spectators, and made the entire jar look like one mass of light.

The two pupils were delighted; Philpot was complacently triumphant; when all of a sudden there was a loud report, the illumination suddenly ceased, and the jar, broken to pieces, collapsed.

Pilbury and Cusack, who at the first alarm had retreated somewhat suddenly to the door, returned as soon as they perceived there was no danger, and were profuse in their praises of the experiment and the experimenter.

“Awfully prime, that was!” cried Cusack; “wasn’t it, Pil?”

“Stunning!” said Pilbury.

“Jolly grind that jar bursting up, though,” said Philpot, with a troubled countenance.

“Why, wasn’t that part of the show-off?” asked Pilbury. “Part of the show-off! No!” exclaimed Philpot. “I thought it was the best part of it all,” said Cusack. “So did I. No end of a bust up it was.”

“You see,” said Philpot, solemnly, “what I ought to have done was to dilute the oxygen with a little air first, but you fellows flurried me so I forgot all about it.”

“Jolly glad you did, or we’d have missed the bust up,” said Cusack. “I say, can’t we try now? I know the way to do it quite well.”

But this proposal Philpot flatly declined to accede to, and could only appease their disappointment by promising to perform one other experiment for their benefit.

This was of rather an elaborate nature. The operator first placed in a saucer some stuff which he explained was iodine. On to this he poured from a small bottle which smelt uncommonly like smelling-salts a small quantity of liquid, and then proceeded to stir the concoction up.

The two students were not to be restrained from offering their services at this point, and Philpot yielded. After they had stirred to their hearts’ content, Philpot ordered them to desist and let it stand a bit.

This they consented to do, and occupied the interval in taking down and smelling all the bottles within reach, with a hardihood that frightened the wits out of poor Philpot.

“Look here,” he said, when presently Pilbury suddenly dropped one bottle with a crash to the floor, and began violently spitting and choking, “you promised you wouldn’t touch anything, and I’ll shut up if you go on fooling any more. Serves you right, Pil, so it does.”

It was some time before the unfortunate Pil recovered from the results of his unlucky experiment, and even when he did, the odours from the broken bottle were so offensive that the windows had to be opened wide before the atmosphere of the room became tolerable. It wouldn’t have taken so long, only it was deemed advisable to shut the door at the same time to prevent the smell getting outside and telling tales to the school at large.

By the time this pleasant diversion was disposed of the concoction in the saucer had recovered from its stirring, and Philpot declared it was ready to go ahead with.

He therefore placed another saucer upside down upon this one, and carefully strained off between the two all the liquid, leaving only a black powder in the saucer, which he announced was iodide of nitrogen.

“Jolly rum name,” said Cusack, “what does it do?”

“You wait a bit,” said Philpot, scooping the wet powder up with the end of a knife and spreading it out on small separate pieces of paper.

“Fellow’s born a chemist,” said Pilbury, watching him admiringly; “that’s just what old Joram does at the dispensary. What’s all the spread out for?”

“To dry it,” said Philpot.

“Why don’t you stick it on the shovel and hold it over the gas?” suggested Cusack. “Jolly fag waiting till it dries itself.”

“Oh, it won’t be long,” said Philpot.

“And what’s it going to do when it’s done?” asked Cusack.

“Hope it’ll flare-up like the other,” said Pilbury.

“It ought to,” said Philpot.

“Ought it? Hurrah! I say, Cusack, what a jolly clever beggar old Phil is, isn’t he?”

“Rather,” said the admiring Cusack, perching himself on the side of the table and swinging his legs to pass the time.

“Oh,” said Philpot, condescendingly, “it only wants a little practice.”

“Rather; I mean to practise hard, don’t you, Cusack?”

Cusack said, Yes he did, and proceeded to prowl round the laboratory in a manner that made Philpot very uncomfortable.

It was a relief to all parties when the powders were at last pronounced to be dry.

“Now,” said Philpot, taking up one of the small papers gently on the flat of his hand, “we shall have to be careful.”

“That little lot won’t make half a flare,” suggested Pilbury; “let’s have two or three at once.”

So saying he lifted up one of the other papers and emptied its contents into the paper on Philpot’s hand.

“Look out,” said Philpot, “it’ll blow up.”

“Eh, what?” cried Cusack, jumping off the table in his excitement at the glorious news.

As he did so Philpot uttered a cry, which was accompanied by a loud crackling explosion, and a dense volume of blue smoke, which made the boys turn pale with terror. For a moment neither of them could move or utter a sound except Philpot, who danced round and round the room in the smoke howling and wringing his hand.

When at last they did recover presence of mind enough to inquire of their preceptor if he was injured, it was in tones of terrible alarm.

“Oh, Phil, old man, are you hurt? What was it? We’re so awfully sorry. Is your hand blown off?”

“No,” said Philpot, continuing to wring his injured hand, but otherwise considerably recovered, “it was your fault jumping off the table. The beastly stuff goes off almost if you look at it. It’s lucky it wasn’t all dry, or I might have had my eyes out!”

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