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"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 to be just--historically?
The members of the club in several groups rushed down Walnut Street,
then into the adjoining streets, and then all over the neighborhood.
They woke up the householders; they compelled them to search their
houses, prepared to indemnify them later on for the outrage on their
privacy. Vain were all their trouble and searching. Robur was nowhere
to be found; there was no trace of him. He might have gone off in the
"Go-Ahead," the balloon of the Institute, for all they could tell.
After an hour's hunt the members had to give in and separate, not
before they had agreed to extend their search over the whole
territory of the twin Americas that form the new continent.
By eleven o'clock quiet had been restored in the neighborhood of
Walnut Street. Philadelphia was able to sink again into that sound
sleep which is the privilege of non-manufacturing towns. The
different members of the club parted to seek their respective houses.
To mention the most distinguished amongst them, William T. Forbes
sought his large sugar establishment, where Miss Doll and Miss Mat
had prepared for him his evening tea, sweetened with his own glucose.
Truck Milnor took the road to his factory in the distant suburb,
where the engines worked day and night. Treasurer Jim Chip, publicly
accused of possessing an alimentary canal twelve inches longer than
that of other men, returned to the vegetable soup that was waiting
for him.
Two of the most important balloonists--two only--did not seem to
think of returning so soon to their domicile. They availed themselves
of the opportunity to discuss the question with more than usual
acrimony. These were the irreconcilables, Uncle Prudent and Phil
Evans, the president and secretary of the Weldon Institute.
At the door of the club the valet Frycollin waited for Uncle Prudent,
his master, and at last he went after him, though he cared but little
for the subject which had set the two colleagues at loggerheads.
It is only an euphemism that the verb "discuss" can be use
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