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condemned than that whose
martyrology contains the names of Pilâtre de Rozier at Calais, of
Blanchard at Paris, of Donaldson and Grimwood in Lake Michigan, of
Sivel and of Crocé-Spinelli, and others whom it takes good care, to
forget."
    This was a counter-thrust with a vengeance.
    "Besides," continued Robur, "With your balloons as good as you can
make them you will never obtain any speed worth mentioning. It would
take you ten years to go round the world—and a flying machine could
do it in a week!"
    Here arose a new tempest of protests and denials which lasted for
three long minutes. And then Phil Evans look up the word.
    "Mr. Aviator," he said "you who talk so much of the benefits of
aviation, have you ever aviated?"
    "I have."
    "And made the conquest of the air?"
    "Not unlikely."
    "Hooray for Robur the Conqueror!" shouted an ironical voice.
    "Well, yes! Robur the Conqueror! I accept the name and I will bear
it, for I have a right to it!"
    "We beg to doubt it!" said Jem Chip.
    "Gentlemen," said Robur, and his brows knit, "when I have just
seriously stated a serious thing I do not permit anyone to reply to
me by a flat denial, and I shall be glad to know the name of the
interrupter."
    "My name is Chip, and I am a vegetarian."
    "Citizen Chip," said Robur, "I knew that vegetarians had longer
alimentary canals than other men—a good foot longer at the least.
That is quite long enough; and so do not compel me to make you any
longer by beginning at your ears and—"
    "Throw him out."
    "Into the street with him!"
    "Lynch him!"
    "Helix him!"
    The rage of the balloonists burst forth at last. They rushed at the
platform. Robur disappeared amid a sheaf of hands that were thrown
about as if caught in a storm. In vain the steam whistle screamed its
fanfares on to the assembly. Philadelphia might well think that a
fire was devouring one of its quarters and that all the waters of the
Schuyllkill could not put it out.
    Suddenly there was a recoil in the tumult. Robur had put his hands
into his pockets and now held them out at the front ranks of the
infuriated mob.
    In each hand was one of those American institutions known as
revolvers which the mere pressure of the fingers is enough to
fire—pocket mitrailleuses in fact.
    And taking advantage not only of the recoil of his assailants but
also of the silence which accompanied it.
    "Decidedly," said he, "it was not Amerigo that discovered the New
World, it was Cabot! You are not Americans, citizen balloonists! You
are only Cabo—"
    Four or five shots cracked out, fired into space. They hurt nobody.
Amid the smoke, the engineer vanished; and when it had thinned away
there was no trace of him. Robur the Conqueror had flown, as if some
apparatus of aviation had borne him into the air.

Chapter V - Another Disappearance
*
    This was not the first occasion on which, at the end of their stormy
discussions, the members of the Weldon Institute had filled Walnut
Street and its neighborhood with their tumult. Several times had the
inhabitants complained of the noisy way in which the proceedings
ended, and more than once had the policemen had to interfere to clear
the thoroughfare for the passersby, who for the most part were
supremely indifferent on the question of aerial navigation. But never
before had the tumult attained such proportions, never had the
complaints been better founded, never had the intervention of the
police been more necessary.
    But there was some excuse for the members of the Weldon Institute.
They had been attacked in their own house. To these enthusiasts for
"lighter than air" a no less enthusiast for "heavier than air" had
said things absolutely abhorrent. And at the moment they were about
to treat him as he deserved, he had disappeared.
    So they cried aloud for vengeance. To leave such insults unpunished
was impossible to all with American blood in their veins. Had not the
sons of Amerigo been called the sons of Cabot? Was not that an insult
as unpardonable as it happened