The Discovery of Kelhamite, a western fiction

'The Discovery of Kelhamite'

By Phineas Redux

—OOO—

Summary:— Henrietta 'Harry' Knappe and Sally 'Snapshot' Nichols, Deputies and lovers in 1870's Red Flume, Arizona Territory, USA, cross paths with a European Inventor and his colossal discovery.

Note 01:— Influenced by the 'Wolfville' stories of Alfred Henry Lewis.

—O—

The Sheriff's Office, this warm sunny morning of August 187-, was tightly packed with all three of those law-officers presently protecting the citizens of Red Flume, Territory of Arizona; there not being any extra space for much else than the three persons—Sheriff Charles Donaldson himself, Henrietta Knappe, famous bear hunter and Deputy, and her lover Sally Nichols, herself a shootist of renown as well as Deputy. Donaldson, resplendent in authority sitting behind his desk, eyed his Deputies with something resembling doubt, tinged with mischief.

"Ladies!"

Henrietta and Sally, long used to the various moods of their leader, looked at him dubiously.

"What?" Henrietta bravely leading the way.

"Ever heerd o'Coles Flat?"

The women eyed each other, searching for any speck of knowledge between the two.

"Nah. What about it?"

"Got a message from Sheriff Corrigan up t'Phoenix. Some in a fog thar about a citizen, Falconer by name, gone missing without leave who may, or may not, be residin' presently in said community."

"So what's thet t'do with us?" Sally frowning darkly at a possible outcome of this conversation she didn't particularly like the sound of.

"Oh, jes' thet I sent a telegraph back sayin' we h'yar in Red Flume'd be pleased t'do our best t'enlighten the darkness surroundin' our esteemed partner up thar in Phoenix."

"Charlie—" Henrietta about to attempt a brazen mutiny.

"So ye both may grab yer steeds an' head out up thar, it lyin' some thrirty-five or more miles nor-west, out in the wild untamed desert. Ye goes through Tankerton, then takes the west trail thet final hits Goldsboro; Coles Flat bein' some halfway thar. Got it?"

"Charlie, why cain't Sheriff Corrigan do his own searchin' after lost souls? What's it got t'do with us?" Sally taking up her partner's distaste for the enterprise.

"What it's got ter do with yer both is I orders same t'take place is what, OK?"

"Oh, sh-t!"

"Waal," Donaldson well used to this attitude on the part of his Deputies. "thar it be. Ye head on out now, ye may well hit Coles Flat a'fore evenin', ridin' fast. Don't ferget t'fill yer water-bottles, the whole route thar bein' open bare dry desert."

"Sh-t!"

"Quit complainin', an' git movin'." Donaldson sounding all his renowned cold disregard for the comfort of his subordinates.

—O—

"Eight—Nine—Ten—; no, Nine, thet's a double-cabin over thar with the black an' white smoke billowin' from those two chimmy's!"

Sally sat her steed atop a low mesa to the south of the hamlet she and her partner had ridden several hours across the barren desert in order to investigate.

"Y'sure?" Henrietta sat her own steed wearily, still having no deeply felt inclination towards their present official duty since the start of the long hot ride.

"Yip—nine houses; shacks really, mostly decrepit by thar looks from h'yar. An' thet's thet!" Sally sniffing sarcastically. "Amazed they's figured the place stands t'a name; one less shack n'it'd be a shambles or rookery only."

Henrietta snorted disgustedly.

"Waal, now we's found the whar, let's git in amongst it an' find out the why! Les'go!"

Two minutes later the two weary Law officers rode into the centre of the small, virtually non-existent, community.

"So, this's Coles Flat—seen minin' camps abandoned fer a yar still more enterprisin' an' ful'la life than this deadbeat dump." Sally saying it as she saw it.

"Wonder which shack this guy Falconer beds down in?" Henrietta glancing round as they halted their horses in what, for want of a better description, passed as the centre of town. "I could spit from h'yar, an' land it some yards outside the city limits in any direction, sure enuff!"

"Thet shack over thar seems some t'be operatin' under the non-de-plume of a Gen'ral Goods Store!"

Taking the implied suggestion at face value Henrietta led the way over to the dishevelled building, pushing the door open with a certain degree of caution in case it fell off its hinges in her hand. Inside a dark shadowy interior did nothing to alleviate any potential customer's interest in its stock.

"Anybody h'yar?" Henrietta's question, given in a loud bass, disturbed the dust on the shelves and central wooden table, set a rack of miscellaneous clothing rattling, and even seemed to raise the faintest reverberation of an echo, before a dark lump, taken till now for a pile of old rags dumped over a chair-back close to the two intruders, suddenly stood-up revealing its human antecedents to the surprised visitors.

"Hell!" Sally loosening her grip on her left-hand Smith and Wesson .38 with something like regret. "Near 'nuff blew yer brains out, mister!"

"Grace!" The, probably middle-aged, apparition allowing of its till now hidden if not wholly disputed, sex. "Grace Waters—what yer wants? Got the cash ter pay fer whatever? I doesn't do credit, mind."

"Nah, ain't in the buyin' line, thanks." Sally recovering like the heroine she was. "Need directions—we wants ter lock jaws with a Mister Gerald Falconer, who, we're told some reliable, resides h'yar in this, ah, community. Whar be he, thanks?"

"Hmmph!" Grace clearly not happy at the loss of two likely looking customers. "Waal, if'n thet's all yer after I got a good mind ter kick yer both out an' tell yer t'haunt the whole place till ye finds same—hee-hee! But seein' as I'm a kindly lady, an' some generous t'the lower intellec's o'some, yer man kicks his boots off in the shack with the two chimmys blowin' one black smoke, the other white—got a red door, or what used ter be red. Along ter yer right as yer goes on out—cain't miss same, it bein' twice the size o'any other in our fair community. Sure thar ain't anythin' o'note yer needs, besides?"

Outside the two intrepid explorers glanced along the sandy waste, it could hardly be called a street, identifying the shack in question without further trouble. A minute later found them standing by the sun-dappled door, Henrietta doing the needful by way of a double knock. After a pause it opened to reveal a bowed-shouldered man in his late sixties, expression indecipherable because of a full grey beard reaching to his chest, eyes dark blue and red-rimmed behind circular lensed spectacles as if he had not slept in a week.

"Who's thar? Who is it? Who be ye? What yer want? I don't buy, nor sell, come t'thet. Ye don't happen t'have any amount o'potassium chlorate about ye, by any chance?"

Sally, not sure or caring what this curious chemical might be, came to the fore by way of opening the official reason for their presence.

"Mister Falconer?"

"Yeah, thet's me, sure."

"We're Deputies from Red Flume." Sally trying her hardest to maintain a distant if not wholly cold tone. "Been told, by Sheriff Corrigan up t'Phoenix, ter ask after ye, on behalf of yer niece Jane-Francis Colthorpe. She not havin' h'yard hair nor hide o'ye fer the last four month, an' beginnin' t'be some worried, is all. You OK?"

"Jane-Francis? Al'lus pryin' in'ta other's affairs, like a hawk on the dam' wing." Falconer sniffing disconsolately. "Sometimes think I cain't git rid o'the woman, come the Fourth o'July, or dam' Christmas! What she wants now?"

"Jes' ter know ye be still in the land o'the livin's all, mister." Henrietta taking her part in the conversation. "Which kind'a explains itsel', really. Kin ye write a letter o'condolence or somthin' while we waits? Or kin we jes' say we've met ye an' found ye fightin' fit an' in good health, like a two yar old jack-rabbit?"

"What's that smell?" Sally rejoining the discussion, sniffing warily. "Somthin' dead in thar, at all?"

Falconer gave the brunette Deputy a scathing glance.

"Thet be my experiments—I bein' a scientist o'note, I may tell ye both."

"Experiments? Scientist?" Sally not quite as quick on the uptake as usual.

Falconer shook his head sadly.

"Would'a thought the words explained tharsel's? Come on inside, could do with showin' someone how far I've got, anyway. Deputies, y'says—hmmph! Made some great advances over the last few months; only a few more days an' I'll have my Great Invention ready for the World t'wonder at. Come on in—mind thet table, don't knock aginst thet row o'glass phials, mind thet oil burner, don't touch thet thar jar neither, it's acid. Sit yersel's on those chairs thar, jes' dump the papers on the floor, never mind the dust; but don't touch anythin' aroun'—anythin', ye'll only regret same—raw chemicals, y'know."

Once the party had been established, with as much comfort as the establishment offered—which was a trifling amount at best—the three set-to in converse.

"What kind'a scientist?" Henrietta inclined to call the old man's bluff as she saw it. "What kin ye scientist out h'yar, in the middle o'nowhar?"

Falconer looked warily, not to say suspiciously, at his visitors.

"Sure ye both ain't h'yar fer secret purposes? T'find out an' discover my secrets, an' make 'em public fer yer own profit?"

"Mister Falconer!" Sally, never pleased when her moral nature, delicately balanced as it was, was impugned to her face, sat forward with a scowl. "Get a dam' grip, ye ol' sot! What fer ye lives in this hovel, in this midden-heap, in the middle o'nowhar? Must be a reason, let's hear same, pronto. We didn't come all this dam' way across the empty desert jes' t'hear fairy tales. Out with it!"

From the way his heavy eyebrows lifted from lowering darkly over his eyes it could be assumed Falconer accepted the young woman's word, though his deeper expression remained reserved behind his thick beard.

"Waal, guy's got'ta ask, ain't he?" He growling low in his throat. "Anyways, Science! Knows any about same, gals?"

"Not a dam' thing—enlighten us!" Henrietta taking the humorous path.

"Hmmph!" Falconer shrugging his shoulders doubtfully. "Waal, OK! It be like this, ye ever heerd o'thet foreigner, Nobel? Over t'Sweden?"

Henrietta glanced at Sally, both still in the dark.

"Nah, who's he?"

Falconer gurgled in his throat, seemingly entertained by this reply.

"Only the guy who invented thet thar new explosive—dynee-mite!"

The women, enlightened, nodded understanding.

"Oh, yeah; mighty powerful stuff I hears."

Falconer eyed Henrietta as if she were a young schoolgirl.

"Could say thet, sure. Far more powerful than black powder, fer sure; an' a lot less dangerous than pure nitroglycerine."

Henrietta nodded knowingly at this.

"Nitro? Yeah, saw a crate o'thet blow-up once. In a train wagon at a station; blew the car behind an' the one in front all t'pieces like t'matchsticks. Five people killed straight, an' fifteen others injured, includin' me, dam'mit!"

"Waal, thar ye be!" Falconer nodding as if this news was something not unusual in his eyes. "Dam' dangerous stuff, especial when warm; never let nitro git warm or, dear Lord, hot! Ye'll jes' regret same's all!"

"Falconer?" Sally losing what little patience she ever had. "Whar's this conversation goin'? I feels mysel' agein' with every passin' moment; ye got a point t'make or what?"

Sitting back in annoyance the man gave his visitors a gloomy look.

"Sorry t'bore ye, sure! Didn't have this level o'criticism when I lectured at Edinburgh University all those yars ago, sure!"

"Edinburgh? Indianny?—or thet place back t'England?" Sally delving into the dark caverns of her general knowledge, and losing her way immediately.

"Scotland, madam, Scotland! An' Edin-boree; the Athens o'the North!" Falconer shaking his head in disbelief. "What the dam's the world comin' to? Thought ye both might'a had jes' a leetle more edication than thet?"

"Anyway," Henrietta hurriedly trying to move the subject on. "What about the dam'—I mean, what about the place? What were ye doin' in Edinburgh, if it ain't a pes'nal question."

"Lecturin', o'course!" Falconer still shaking his head. "Me havin' got my Diploma thar a year or so earlier, an' bein' made a Professor o'Science fer my efforts."

"Oh, yer a Professor?" Sally impressed against her better nature.

"Yeah, but don't tell anyone." A sound like a mixture of a giggle and a short laugh emanating from the depths of his beard. "They'll all jes' git jealous an' start askin' fer my auty-graph's all—hee-hee! I was a student, years since, under Sir Henry Kelham; the greatest Scientist of our times, if ye doesn't know same! Means t'name my discovery, when I final makes same sure an' safe, Kelhamite in his honor!"

The women again exchanged glances; this time ones' of dismay—they both thinking the same thought, they were in the presence of far advanced senility.

"Are ye sayin' ye ain't 'Merican?" Henrietta taking up a point that had sprung to mind during the course of this discussion.

"—'course I ain't 'Merican; whatever made ye think same?"

"Yer accent, fer one." Sally pinning the important evidence to hand. "An' yer gen'ral outlook—decrepit hangdog bag o'rags an' bones, like a decades ol' whisky sozzler. Jes' how ye comes across t'us's all, partner."

The silence that now descended on the interior of the dusty dark cabin could have done double duty as one of the earlier geological Epochs grinding its way through its interminable history before Falconer found the energy to resume conversation with his guests.

"Thet bein' as may be, the thing is yer all wrong in all ways, so thar! I'm Scots by birth, inclination, and proud o'it! How I sounds now is jes' my way o'integratin' with the gen'ral low natur' o'those I comes in contact with in this benighted continent, is all. Tried comin' it the high an' mighty over t'Boston, yars since, but it didn't work out—they-all not catchin' onto my character at all, no-ways. So, now I mind my own business out h'yar, a proud resident o'nowhar, an' glad t'be h'yar! Anythin' else ye wants a'fore ye leaves? Tell thet dam niece o'mine t'mind her own p's an' q's in future, too. I'll write her a letter when I feels inclined an' not a'fore, OK?"

All this time Sally had been holding a handkerchief to her nose in an attempt to hinder the all-encompassing smell within the cabin from entering her nostrils—with little success. Now she mutinied straight and true.

"Mister, kin ye at least take that dam' bowl off'n the stove over thar? It's fillin' this place with a smell like to a slaughterhouse on a Summer's day! What the hell ye bilin'-up, anyhow? Sure hope's it ain't yer idee o'soup!"

This question, rather than annoying Falconer seemed to energise him.

"Comes back t'our orig'nal discussion, lady. Thet dam' interloper, Nobel!"

"What about him?" Henrietta not seeing the connection at all and as ready to escape the noxious fumes within the cabin as her partner. "He's over t'Sweden still, ain't he?"

"But his dam' invention's over h'yar, all over the place, ain't it!" Falconer suddenly coming to life with a roar, before settling back on his chair. "Dam' dynee-mite! He brought it over near on ten yar since, me then still in the early days o'figurin' out my own explosive. Near got it in hand now, anyway, ladies! Another week or so an' I'll have a explosive ten times as powerful as his silly dynee-mite, an' five times cheaper, too. I tells ye, when my invention comes on the market it'll swamp his'n in a single yar—I'll be famous from San Francisco t'New York! Edinburg, too, o'course! Thet'll show 'em, sure!"

Faced with such a powerful amount of self-conceit the women took the only course open to them—retreat.

"Waal, it's bin fine talkin' with yer, Mister Falconer." Sally taking the initiative, rising from her chair and heading steadfastly for the door. "We'll let Miss Colthorpe know yer fine an' in good spirits, G'bye t'ye—comin', Harry?"

—O—

Outside, in what passed for the street, the women took stock of their journey's substance.

"What ye think, lover?"

Henrietta, so accosted, shrugged her shoulders beneath her jacket.

"Bit of an oddball fer sure. Don't knows how much o'his story rings true or not."

"Yeah, a Professor at a Eng—thet is, Scottish University?" Sally nodding agreement. "Sounds suspicious t'me. Not much t'show he's Scots his'sel', either. Wouldn't be surprised t'hear he hails from Poughkeepsie or Long Island."

"Jes' someone pullin' a big grift, ye think?"

"About same, yeah." Sally sure of her own interpretation of the late meeting. "This thing about him workin' on a explosive thet'll be better'n dynamite! Don't believe a word o'it; I mean, who would? Ye know how difficult it must be t'make somthin' like t'dynamite? Near impossible, without, what's it called? A laboratory, an' a huge team o'assistants, an' a lot'ta funny probably expensive chemical ingredients, an' a heavy dose o'money t'back the enterprise up. Out h'yar, nowhar, in a scraggly cabin with a wood stove an' somthin' smelly bilin' on same? Tell me another, darlin'!"

Henrietta nodded, looking up at the sky.

"Waal, it's gettin' on, late afternoon. Thinks we should find a citizen who'll let us bed down fer the night in their shack, or what?"

Sally gave her surroundings a distasteful glance.

"Place's a cesspit! Cain't be more'n five other folks h'yar anyway; wouldn't corral a sharp-natured mustang h'yar! Let's git out in the desert an' make a kosher camp-site. I'd feel more comfortable thar than h'yar, fer sure. Anyways, I kin still smell those dam' filthy fumes comin from Falconer's stove; the smoke from his two chimney's is lettin' it's perfume spread across the whole enterprise—gaah!"

"Thinks I agrees, lady!" Henrietta taking her partner's arm as they headed for their mounts, still tethered by the General Goods Store further up the street. "Passed a little stream about ten mile backaways, a longish way but let's git over thar an' bed down fer the night."

"It's a plan, lead the way, lover!"

—O—

The great thing about a camp in the middle of the illimitable desert, with no large community close-by to throw light into the sky if even of the slightest amount, is the huge sweep of stars visible as a result.

"How many're thar, ye think?"

Henrietta, comfortable under her warm blanket by the side of her lover and the now dying campfire wriggled into an even more comfortable position.

"Stars? Thousands, baby."

"But how many thousands?"

Henrietta gurgled softly in her throat.

"Why'd ya wan'na know? Got a bet on it with someone?"

"Nah, jes' curious. Why'd they twinkle, too?"

"No idee."

"Some're different colors, too." Sally determined to pursue her train of thought come what may. "See thet red one up thar? An' is thet other blue? Thinks it is."

"Some ain't stars at all, ye realise."

Sally twisted in her own blanket to stare at her lover.

"Not stars? What yer mean?"

"Some, I'm told on good authority, are planets."

Sally mused on this revelation for a while.

"Planets? Which one's? Planets, I mean. What planets are there, anyway?"

Corralled so tightly Henrietta searched her memory.

"—er, waal; oh, thar's Mars fer one."

"Mars? Yeah, heerd o'same." Sally allowing she accepted this information at face value. "What else? How about the Moon?"

"Cain't really say it's a planet." Henrietta, out of her comfort zone entirely, sounding a note of doubt. "It's jes', waal, jes' a Moon, ain't it?"

"Suppose."

"Venus!"

"What?" Sally caught off-guard.

"Another planet, read about it, in a old Atlantic Monthly magazine I think."

"Oh! Suppose thar must be a load more?"

"Expec' so; an' don't ask me t'name same, 'cause I cain't; alright?"

"Sure-sure, baby!" Sally smiling in the dark. "Wouldn't think o'strainin' yer brain so late at night, dear."

"Fool!"

But Sally's interest in astronomy wasn't quite quenched yet.

"What's the difference between a star an' a planet?" She pointing up with one hand outside her blanket. "I mean, up thar. Is thet a star? Or is thet other one thar a planet?"

"Cain't say, dear." Henrietta at the end of her useful knowledge on the arcane subject. "Let's hit the hay an' the land o'Nod instead, OK?"

"Ye wan'na go sleepy-bye-byes, dear?"

Henrietta could see as clearly as anyone where this diversion might well end.

"Yeah, I do! An' if ye thinks I'm gon'na unbutton down t'my skin this late at night, in the middle of the cold desert, ye may well think agin, lady! Go t'sleep."

"Oh, phooey!"

—O—

Later that night, around two o'clock, found both women up and about, half a pot of strong coffee each late at night eventually having that effect on a person's interior plumbing. They had just finished their personal activities, at opposite sides of the small camp behind suitable low bushes of scrub and returned to the fire, now almost out—Sally, though, still some interested in her surroundings.

"Stars still jes' as bright."

"So what?"

Sally growled under her breath.

"Want some coffee, gal? Kin make it snappy's get-out?"

"Nah, had enough; don't wan'na get out'ta my blankit agin t'night."

"OK. Look at the stars, though! Seem brighter now than earlier."

"Go t'sleep."

"Wish I knew most o'their names? Knows many has names, if not most. Wonder what thet one up thar's called?"

Snaarrf!

"Don't pretend t'be asleep, gal; I kin tell a mile off."

"Sal?"

"What?"

"I dearly loves ye, as ye knows, but if I don't git my sleep over the next four hours or so I'm liable t'end by doin' somthin' outrageous an' wholly unsociable, OK? Jes' warnin' ye's all."

"Idiot!" Sally wholly unconcerned with her partner's primary wishes and needs. "See those three stars up thar? Thet must be one o'those, what're they called, constilations!"

"Sleep, baby, sleep!"

"Wonder if those ones're what folks calls the Big Dipper?" Sally pursuing her train of thought remorselessly. "Could be, but meb'be not. What other constilations are there? Baby, what other constilations are thar?"

"Uuhh, sleep!"

"Baby! Baby!"

"What? What the hell?" Henrietta brought to near full consciousness against her will. "What? Injuns? C'yotes? The dam' End o'the World? What? Go t'sleep, fer God's sake, woman!"

"I thinks stars are where folks goes after they're dead!"

Struck by the incongruousness of this statement Henrietta, against her wishes and better nature, struggled to a half-sitting position still wrapped in her blanket.

"Sal, have ye lost yer mind entire? Lay down, pull yer blankit close, an' go t'dam' sleep like a sane woman, please!"

But before her partner could reply something extraordinary occurred: there was a brief intense flash of white light, the encroaching darkness quickly rushing back into the vacuum, then in the far distance to the west an enormous blazing white light spread across the whole horizon, lighting the desert and campsite all round as if the middle of the day. The light so brilliant the women had to scramble under cover of their blankets to avoid being blinded by its intensity; though even there the surrounding new light made it as if midday.

Finally the strength of the light died somewhat, the women pulling the blankets free to stare around them at a scene still lit as if the middle of the day.

"What the Hell?"

"Over thar—look!" Sally pointing across the intervening scrub into the far west close to the distant horizon.

On the horizon, clearly visible as if lit by internal fires, a huge column of what appeared to be white flame almost quarter a mile wide towered into the air, climbing already to a height around three thousand feet surrounded by a thick cloud of spreading dark smoky fumes, expanding to a wide mushroom-like crest as it continued rolling higher into the upper atmosphere; all happening to the strains of an eery growling roar like a distant earthquake.

"What the Hell!" Henrietta taken completely unawares. "A volcano? Is thar a volcano over thar somewhar's?"

Sally, however, had sprung to her own conclusion.

"It's over t'Coles Flat! Same direction an' distance; think it might be ol' Falconer! Think he may have discovered his dam' explosive fer real, after all?"

"Sh-t!" Henrietta seeing the likely possibility at once. "If so, judgin' by thet dam' explosion, thar won't be much left o'him, fer sure. Nor anyone else in Coles Flat, fer that."

"Or Coles Flat itself, either." Sally making the obvious deduction. "A blast thet dam' huge'll destroy the whole place, an' a mile or so in every other direction, too! Say, what's this?"

A low roar, like a distant steam train, had been growling at the edge of the listeners' ears for the past minute, and now it began to sound ever louder as if the train was bearing down on them personally.

"Sh-t! Hit the dirt, gal, it's comin' this way!"

"What?" Sally still in the dark, though it was still light as day all round, the distant column of trembling impenetrable smoke and flame still visibly climbing to incredible heights in the atmosphere.

"The blast! The shockwave!" Henrietta darting the yard or so over the sand to grab her lover and haul her to the ground beside her. "Put yer hands over yer face; thar's gon'na be—"

Before she could finish a roar as of a thousand angry lions overtook the campsite, every scrub-bush in sight leaning over nearly flat to the ground as the terrific blast of oncoming displaced air hit. Suddenly feeling as if they were in the middle of a huge tornado all the women could do was huddle together grasping each other round their waists as their blankets snapped and wriggled like live things round them, the wind blowing at hurricane strength for a matter of a couple of minutes before fading slowly away into disconnected lighter zephyrs and breezes.

"Think it's over!" Henrietta raising a cautious head to gaze around. "Our fire's gone, like our equipment; the hosses're safe though under those trees in that low depression, thank the Lord! Look, ye kin still see over t'the horizon, an' thet dam' huge pall o'fire an' smoke. What the dam' ye think happened?"

Sally, raising herself to her feet, had the answer to this at her fingertips.

"Ain't it obvious? Falconer must'a found what he's bin searchin' fer this last decade or so; an' it's killed him, along with every other inmate o'Coles Flat, I assume, an' probably every livin' thing within a radius of five mile all round. Bet when we go back, thar won't be a dam' thing to investigate across the whole region, take my word on it! Look! Thet column o'smoke's still risin', jes' like t'a volcano! Whatever it turned out t'be, it certin was far more powerful then dynamite! So I figur's Falconer got his wish in the end, after all!"

"Sh-t!"

—O—

Several hours later, in the early morning, found the intrepid explorers once more atop a low mesa south of the community of Coles Flat; or where it had been, at least.

"Nuthin' but black ash!" Sally describing what was obvious to the least glance. "Cain't see any trace of shack or house anywhar. Think it's any good us goin' down thar?"

"Have'ta." Henrietta shaking her head in disbelief at the sight. "Ye sure were right! Nuthin' left at all but ash. What the hell was it he discovered? Stronger than dynamite? It must'a bin stronger than anythin' other of its type anywhar in the whole dam' World! Sumthin' entirely new t'Science, fer sure."

"Think thar's any chance of his notes or equipment survivin?"

Sally, after asking this, took a long steady glance at the distant scene before answering her own question.

"Nah, silly idee! Look, thet's a dam' crater about fifteen feet deep an' fifty feet wide if'n an inch whar the settlement used t'be. Like a huge cannon-shell fell on it. An' look, this h'yar mesa, the side facin' the blast, it's all glazed shiny black like it's turned into glass fragments or sumthin' similar."

Ten minutes later they had ridden up to where the hamlet used to stand.

"Nuthin' but this glass-like gravel all round; everythin' flattened fer a mile all round; nuthin' left o'the village at all—absolutely nuthin'! Dam'!"

Henrietta nodded her agreement as they climbed down from their saddles to stand on the hard newly created substance masquerading as the ground; she bending to pick up a handful in her gloved hand.

"Yeah, jes' like to glass! I'll be dam'med; the heat must'a bin tremendous!"

"Jes' like a volcano, I suppose!" Sally nodding in turn. "Waal, searchin' fer anythin' h'yar's a lost cause fer sure. Everythin' an' everyone's gone fer good, every last iota an' atom! I bet there ain't so much as a single c'yote nor ground-squirrel left alive anywhar in a five mile radius! What the hell're we gon'na tell Charlie when we git back?"

Henrietta shrugged, appalled by the ghastly scene all round.

"What more'n thet Falconer final found his explosive; or, more realistically, it found him!"

The End

Another 'Red Flume' story will arrive shortly.

—O—