he hull thing better'n by daylight."

Then, as she still remained undecided, he continued, in an undertone:

"Cousin Phoebe's up in her room, ain't she? Ye might not get another
chance so easy."

He had guessed instinctively that, under the circumstances, Rebecca
preferred not revealing to Phoebe her own continued interest in the
wonderful machine.

The suggestion was vital. Phoebe was in all probability sulking in her
own bedroom, and in that event would not quit it for an hour. It seemed
now or never.

Rebecca rolled up her knitting work and rose to her feet.

"Jest wait here a spell," she said, rapidly. "I won't be a minute!"

* * * * *

Shortly afterward, two swiftly moving, shadowy figures emerged from the
little white gate and turned into a dark lane made more gloomy by
overhanging maples. This was the shortest route to Burnham's swamp.

Copernicus was now more hopeful. He could not but feel that, if the
elder sister came face to face with his marvellous machine, good must
result for his plans. Rebecca walked with nervous haste, dreading
Phoebe's possible discovery of this most unconventional conduct.

The night was moonless, and the two stumbled and groped their way down
the lane at a pace whose slowness exasperated Rebecca.

"Ef I'd a-known!" she exclaimed, under her breath.

"We're 'most there, Cousin Rebecca," said Copernicus, with deprecating
softness. "Here, give me holt o' yer hand while we climb over the wall.
Here's Burnham's swamp right now."

Accepting the proffered aid, Rebecca found herself in the midst of a
thicket of bushes, many of which were thorny and all of which seemed
bent upon repelling nocturnal adventurers.

Droop, going ahead, did his best to draw aside the obstinate twigs, and
Rebecca followed him with half-averted head, lifting her skirts and
walking sidewise.

"'Mighty lucky, 'tain't wet weather!" she mumbled.

At that moment her guide stood still.

"There!" he exclaimed, in a low, half-awed voice.

Rebecca stopped and gazed about. A little to the right the dark gray of
the sky was cut by a looming black mass of uncertain form.

It looked like the crouching phantom of some shapeless sea-monster.
Rebecca half expected to see it dissolve like a wind-driven fog.

Their physical sight could distinguish nothing of the outer
characteristics of this mysterious structure; but for this very reason,
the imagination was the more active