"Now, don't be a clown, Griggs," snapped the inventor. "It is----"

"Wait. Did you lure me over here, Hawkins, with the fiendish purpose of
demonstrating that thing?"

"Certainly not. It is----"

"Just one minute more. Is it tied down? Will it, by any chance, suddenly
gallop over here and fall upon us?"

"No, it will not," replied Hawkins shortly. "The foundations run twenty
feet into the ground. Are you coming in or not?"

"Under the circumstances--yes," I said, entering again, but keeping a wary
eye on the steel tower. "But can't we spend the afternoon out here by the
gate?"

"We cannot," said Hawkins sourly. "Your humor, Griggs, is as pointless as
it is childish. When you see every farmer in the United States using that
contrivance, you will blush to recall your idiotic words."

I was tempted to make some remark about the greater likelihood of memory
producing a consumptive pallor; but I refrained and followed Hawkins to
the veranda.

"When I built that tower," pursued the inventor, waving his hand at it, "I
intended, of course, to use the regulation pump, taking the power from the
windmill.