Part 2

There are five places in this country where the projectiles for the cannons of the army and navy are made. Most of them use processes which are secured from Europe. The fewest possible number of persons, both in this country and abroad, know the secret of their production. The workmen in the factories do not know the various steps and compositions of the metals they use. Aside from the owners of the process and the chemists in their employ, almost no one else knows the secret. Each workman only knows his own part, and if they should all get together and each should tell what he knows, their combined knowledge would be of little value to them in discovering the secret. The chief places of manufacture in this country are at the Midvale Steel-Works, in Philadelphia, where the famous Holtzer projectiles are made; the Carpenter Works, at Reading, Pennsylvania, where the Carpenter projectiles are produced; the Wheeler-Sterling Mills, in Pittsburg, where the Sterling projectiles are made; the Johnson Works at Spuyten Duyvil, New York; and the United States Projectile Company's Works in Brooklyn. The three first named produce the larger projectiles used in our guns. At the Midvale Works, through which I had the pleasure of going by courtesy of the president, Mr. Harrah, before I wrote this article, one may see many picturesque things in the manufacture of steel, and it is possible that one may look upon some of the more rudimentary processes of projectile-making without knowing it; but when one comes to the place where the projectiles are really made, he finds himself facing a big fence with a locked gate, and a sign saying that no one, not even those employed in other work about the immense establishment, is permitted to go inside the barrier. A big bell hangs outside the gate, and if one wishes to speak with any one inside the enclosure, he must ring that and call out the man. There is a big open cistern outside, where the specially prepared water used inside the mill is collected, but that is all one can see. Inasmuch as all this secrecy is necessary to the welfare of our country, I am sure that the curiosity of all patriotic persons should stop at this point, and we must all go away satisfied and even pleased with all these precautions.

Projectiles are of three kinds: the armor-piercing, the semi-armor-piercing, and the ordinary bursting projectiles, commonly called shrapnel. We are confining most of our efforts at present to making the armor-piercing and the semi-armor-piercing projectiles. The armor-piercing shot are practically solid pieces of metal. The semi-armor-piercing projectiles are hollow, and contain a bursting charge, usually of ordinary powder. The solid shot are for use in the large guns of ships, and are intended to pierce the armor of battle-ships and wreck their machinery. They simply break up the armor of a vessel. The semi-armor projectiles are for the same purpose, and also especially for use in mortar guns. These guns are short-muzzled affairs, and they throw their shells high in the air, so that they may come down on a deck, burst, and pass clear through a ship's bottom. The chief defences of New York harbor consist of a large battery of these mortar guns in the trees and behind the sand hummocks at Sandy Hook. It is estimated that only one out of two hundred shots that they fire into the air with a high curve will strike a war-ship attempting to pass into the harbor, but it is also known that one of these shots will pass through any ship from top to bottom, and, bursting as it passes through, will sink any vessel afloat. A 13-inch semi-armor-piercing projectile carries about fifty pounds of powder inside, and it is exploded by percussion--that is, by the shock of contact with a solid substance. The shrapnel shells contain bullets of various sizes, and they explode on percussion. Their object is to scatter bullets about a ship's deck and clear it of men, rather than to sink the ship.

A projectile is useless, provided it is of the solid kind, if it breaks in pieces when it hits its target. The energy of the gun and powder is all used up in breaking itself to pieces. If it passes through armor without injuring itself at all, the full energy of the gun is sent against the target, and the projectile does its complete work. A projectile is supposed to pass through armor one and one-eighth times its own diameter in thickness--that is, an 8-inch projectile is supposed to be a match for 9-inch armor, and so on.

There are five distinct parts to every projectile. They are the point, the ogival, the bourrelet, the body, and the base. The point, of course, is the extreme forward end; the ogival is the rounded part just behind the point; the bourrelet is a bright band of steel where the rounded part ends--it is intended to fit the bore of a gun closely, and with a tight grip; the body is the long, straight part; and the base is the flat end, with a band which grips the rifling of the gun, by means of which a revolving motion is given to the projectile as it is hurled against its target.

CROSSING THE XUACAXÉLLA.

BY CAPTAIN CHARLES A. CURTIS, U. S. A.

IV.

The boys were frightened. Their hearts rose in their throats, and it was difficult to restrain an impulse to turn and run; but a soldierly instinct brought them to a "ready," with eyes fixed upon the probable enemy.

"Quick, Henry! Shoot!" exclaimed Frank, reserving his own fire.

The younger sergeant raised his double-barrelled shot-gun to his shoulder and pulled both triggers. Down went the sixteen Indians as if the bird-shot had been fatal to all. The plain became in an instant as objectless as it was a moment before.

"Load, Henry, and backward march!" said Frank, ready to fire whenever a head showed itself above the grass, and at the same time moving as fast as possible toward the camp-fire.

"How! how! how!" was chorussed from the direction of the Indians, and several naked brown arms were stretched upward, holding rifles horizontally in the air.

"That means peace," said Henry. "They aren't going to fire. Let's answer. How! how! how!"

"How! how! how!" Frank joined in, and at once the sixteen red men sprang to their feet, apparently none the worse for Henry's double charge of bird-shot at short range. They held their weapons above their heads, and continuing to utter their friendly "How," rapidly advanced toward the boys.

"They aren't playing us a trick, are they, Frank?" asked Henry, in an anxious tone.

"No," replied the older boy, after snatching a glance to the rear. "The Lieutenant and soldiers are saddling. The Indians dare not harm us on an open plain in sight of a mounted force."

The boys stopped, and the red men approached and began shaking their hands in the most friendly manner, over and over again, repeating "How" many times. They were clad in loose and sleeveless cotton shirts, all ragged and dirty, with no other clothing. The one who appeared to be chief was distinguished by the possession of three shirts, worn one above the other. Each man possessed several hares and field-rats, held against his waist by tucking the heads under his belt.

The sergeants and their strange guests reached the camp-fire, and the hand-shaking and exchange of friendly civilities went on for some time. The chief approached me, and asked in mongrel Spanish:

"Usto Capitan?" (are you the Captain?)

I replied in the affirmative.

"Yo Capitan tambien, mucho grande heap Capitan." (I'm a Captain, too; a very great heap Captain.)

He then asked where we were from and where we were going, and informed us that they were Yavapais on a hunting expedition. We exchanged bread with them for a few cotton-tails, and set Clary to making a rabbit stew, the boys and I deferring our supper until it should be ready.

"Oh, Lieutenant!" shouted Henry from the direction of the Indians a moment later. "Come and see what these creatures are doing!"

I left the ambulance, and joined the group of soldiers who stood in a circle about an inner circle of seated Indians. Each Yavapais had selected a rat from the collection in his belt, and had laid it on the coals without dressing or in any way disturbing its anatomy. He rolled the rat over once or twice, and took it up and brushed and blew off the singed hair. He placed it again on the fire for a moment, and, taking it up, pinched off the fore legs close to the body, and the hind legs at the ham-joint. Replacing it on the coals, he turned it over and over a few more times. Picking it up for the third time, he held it daintily in the palm of his left hand, and with his right plucked off the flesh and placed it in his mouth.

When we were making our beds ready for the night, Vic, whom we had forgotten in the exciting events of the evening, trotted into camp and laid a horseshoe in Henry's lap. The lad took it up, and exclaimed,

"One of Chiquita's shoes!--a left hind shoe!"

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Private Sattler always shaped the left heel of the left shoe like this, to correct a fault in her gait."

"May I look at the shoe, sergeant?" asked Corporal Duffey, approaching from the group of men near the guard's fire. "Shoes are like handwriting; no two blacksmiths make them alike."

Henry passed the shoe to the corporal, who turned it over, examined it closely, and handed it back, saying:

"I am a blacksmith by trade, and know all the shoes made by the smiths in the regiment. This is one of Sattler's. He put a side-weight on it, and here is the bevel-mark of his hammer."

"Then Chiquita certainly came this way, and Vic was on her trail when we saw her, coming from the tanks," remarked Frank; "but there could have been no scent after so long a time."

"Oh, she knows the ponies' tracks," asseverated Henry. "She knows their halters and bridles, and will bring them when told to, without mistake. Of course she knew Chiquita's shoe, and she knows Chiquita is my pony, and I believe she knows we are going after her."

I repeat this, not because I think the dog so exceedingly wise, but to show the boys' belief in her intelligence. She had brought in a shoe which bore the government mark, and which had been fitted by the Fort Whipple blacksmith.

The sentinel waked us the next morning at four o'clock, and informed us that the Indians had left two hours before. The animals were driven to the tanks, the vessels and canteens filled, and at six we started. Clary warmed up the rabbit stew left over from supper, but the rat association was still too strong, and the boys passed it over to the dog. All the water was used in the preparation of breakfast except that in the canteens. It would have been better if we had again gone to the tanks and refilled the camp-kettles and coffee-pots; but the delay necessary to do it, and the assurance that there was water at Hole-in-the-Plain determined me to go on at once. The weather was a repetition of that of the previous day, hot and windless.

The road proved generally smooth, but there were occasional long stretches over which it was impossible to drive faster than a walk. About four o'clock in the afternoon we reached the Hole-in-the-Plain, and found nothing but a mass of thin mud. The water had dried up. Vic, consumed with thirst, waded into the mud, and rolled in it until she was the color of fresh adobe, and was, in consequence, made to ride on the driver's foot-board in disgrace.

We had intended to pass the night at the Hole; but now we were obliged to go on, when really in no condition to do so. The men and animals were suffering much more than I have time or space to mention. The previous day's experience and the poor water at the tanks had made our second day on the desert more exhausting than the first. To be obliged to add another day's journey to the one just finished was exceedingly depressing.

Very gloomy, and doubtful of the outcome, we left the Hole-in-the-Plain. The plain became undulating, and was frequently crossed by deep and dry ravines, and loose stones obstructed the wheels. We were toiling slowly up a slope when a horseman overtook us who proved to be Mr. Gray. He slowed up, and asked how we were getting on. All the incidents of the journey since parting with him the day before were related, and our present plight explained.

He spoke encouragingly. Told us that Tyson's Wells were now not far away, and that the road would soon improve.

"Keep up your courage, lads, and you will soon be there," he shouted back as he galloped swiftly away in the darkness.

At midnight the road ascended a roll in the plain, and became once more hard and smooth. The driver urged the team into a series of brief and spasmodic trots, which lasted a couple of hours, when we again descended to a lower level, where the wearily slow gait was resumed. With the slower pace our hopes fell and our thirst increased. As Private Tom Clary expressed it to the driver:

"In a place like this a gallon of Black Tank's water would be acciptible without a strainer, and no riflictions passed upon the wigglers."

"That's so, Tom," called Henry from the depths of his blankets; "I could drink two quarts of it--half and half."

"Half and half--what do you mean?" I asked.

"Half water and half wigglers," was the answer.

"I thought you were asleep."

"Can't sleep, sir; I'm too thirsty. Did drop off once for two or three minutes, and dreamed of rivers, waterfalls, springs, and wells that I could not reach."

"I've not slept at all," said Frank; "just been thinking whether I ever rode over a mile in Vermont without crossing a brook or passing a watering-trough."

"It's beginning to grow light in the east," observed the driver. "By the time we reach the top of the next roll we can see whether we are near the wells."

"You may stop the team, Marr," said I. "We will wait for the escort to close up."

The carriage stopped, and we got out to stretch our legs while the straggling soldiers slowly overtook us. The man on the wounded bronco did not arrive until the edge of the sun peeped above the horizon, and I ordered him to remove the saddle and bridle, hitch the animal behind the ambulance, and take a seat beside the driver.

Just when we were about to start again, Frank asked permission to run ahead with the field-glass to the rising ground and look for Tyson's Wells. I consented, and told him to signal us if he saw them, and that if he did not we would halt and turn out, and send the least worn of the escort ahead for relief.

Frank started, and presently disappeared behind some brush at a turn in the road. An instant later be shouted and screamed at the top of his voice. Whether he was shouting with joy or terror, or had gone out of his senses, we were unable to guess. It sounded like,

"Who-o-o-op!--water!--water!--water!"

Had the boy seen a mirage or gone mad? We could see nothing but the broad hollow about us, barren and dry as ever. But still the boy continued to shout, "Water!--water!" and presently he appeared round the bend, running and holding up what appeared to be a letter. It was a letter. When Frank reached the ambulance, tears were in his eyes as he handed me a yellow envelope.

"Found it on the head of a barrel, over there, with a stone upon it to prevent it from blowing away."

Breaking open the envelope with trembling fingers I read:

"Tyson's Wells.

"DEAR LIEUTENANT,--Please accept four barrels of water and four bushels of corn, with my compliments.

"GRAY."

Need I confess the emotions with which we realized the service this brave Arizona merchant had done us? Or need I mention that Mr. Gray--God bless him, wherever he may be!--is always remembered with gratitude by me?--for this is no idle incident invented to amuse a reader, but an actual occurrence.

Water!--four barrels!--one hundred and sixty gallons! That meant two gallons for each man and boy, and nearly ten for each animal. It meant rest, speed, safety.

We moved across the ravine and found the four barrels by the road-side. The animals were fastened to the ambulance and the acacia bushes, the heads of the barrels removed, and after each person had satisfied his thirst the camp-kettles were used until horses and mules had drunk the contents of two each. The stock was then turned loose to graze.

We felt exceedingly grateful to our newly made friend for helping us in our distress, and our gratitude found frequent expression while the men prepared breakfast. When the coffee was poured, Private Tom Clary arose, and holding up his tin cup, said to his comrades:

"B'ys, here's a toast to be drunk standing, and for many raysons, which I think nade not be explained to this assimbly, I'm glad to drink it in a decoction whose principal ingraydiant is wather. Here's to Mr. Gray, whose conduct at Soldiers' Holes, at Date Creek, and on the Walkerhalyer has won our admiration. May he never lack for the fluid he has so ginerously dispinsed, nor a soft hand to smooth his last pillow, and plinty of masses for the repose of his sowl!"

Frank and Henry sprang toward the circle of soldiers, raised their cups as Clary finished his sentiment, and joined in the hearty response when he closed.

At one o'clock the animals were caught up, given the remainder of the water and their portion of the grain, and got ready for the road. Once up the slope Marr cracked his whip, the mules started promptly into a trot, the horses of the escort broke into a canter, and amid the cheerful clatter of hoofs and the rattle of wheels we sped on our way as fresh as if we were just leaving Fort Whipple. A ride of twenty miles brought us to Tyson's Wells. These were two in number, sunk at the intersection of several roads to settlements and mines, an accommodation to trains, flocks, and herds, and a profit to the owner.

I learned from Colonel Tyson that immediately upon his arrival Mr. Gray had hired a wagon to take water and grain to us. He had bargained for the driver to go until he met us; but the man being prepaid may account for his not fulfilling his agreement to the letter.

The rest of the day and night was spent at the Wells, the boys and I taking our supper at the "Desert Hotel," kept by the Colonel. At the table Henry asked if we should return the way we came.

"Yes, if I can find a few kegs in La Paz for water," I answered.

"But we cannot haul kegs enough to supply the animals."

"It will not be difficult to cross the desert now that we are acquainted with it and know what to expect. We will follow the army rule in such cases, and I think you will find it interesting to let experience answer your question."

Just as we were going to bed Mr. Baldwin arrived from La Paz. He informed me that Texas Dick and Jumping Jack were there, and in possession of the black and cream colored ponies; that there was to be a horse-race the following afternoon, and the ponies had been entered. At this news the boy sergeants became much excited, and proposed a dozen impracticable ways of going on at once and seizing their property.

Baldwin said he had talked the matter over with Mr. Gray, and the merchant had advised that we give out a report in La Paz that we were there on the transportation and storehouse business only, and make no immediate attempt to capture the ponies. He said the town was full of the friends of the horse-thieves, and that all our movements would be closely watched and reported to them. If they became alarmed they would probably run across the Mexican boundary at once. He thought that by waiting a little and learning where the horses were kept we should be more likely to regain them than by hurrying.

"But why cannot we attend the race, with the escort, as spectators, and seize them?" asked Frank.

"That is a move they will be sure to be looking for. If any of you go to the race, I believe neither of those men or the ponies will be there."

I was inclined to believe Baldwin right. I told him to return to La Paz before daylight and circulate the report that I was coming, and for the purpose he had mentioned. I also requested him to watch Jack and Dick, and if he saw any signs of flight to come and meet me. He left for La Paz a little after midnight, reaching there at four o'clock the following morning. We were met on the out-skirts of the town by Mr. Baldwin, who told us Mr. Gray expected us to be his guests during our stay, and that his corral and store-rooms were at the service of the men and stock.

Going directly to Mr. Gray's house, we were welcomed by the hospitable trader to his substantial bachelor quarters. He stood upon his veranda when we drove up, and conducted us in person to pleasant rooms, assigning the boys one to themselves, in which were many evidences that he had been looking forward to their visit and understood boyish needs and pleasures.

Henry, after changing his travelling suit for a bright uniform, appeared upon the veranda with glowing face and shining hair.

"Mr. Gray, how pleasant you have made that room for Frank and me? Have you any boys of your own?" he asked.

"Only two nephews, Sandy and Malcolm, in the 'Land of Cakes,'" was the reply.

"What a good uncle you must be to them!"

"Thank you, laddie. I hope the bairns are as fine boys as you and your brother."

"You are very kind to say so, sir. May I ask you a question?"

"A dozen, laddie, if you choose."

"When you overtook us on the desert you said it was not far to Tyson's Wells, and that we should soon be there?"

"Ah!--then you thought it a long way, Sergeant?"

"Perhaps my terrible thirst had something to do with it, but I thought you had a queer notion of distances."

"Only a little deception to keep up your hearts. I saw you were in sorry need of water, and I rode hard to send it to you; but I wanted you to do your best to meet it. You would have found the distance longer without it."

"I think I should, sir. The last twenty miles were just nothing after we found your barrels."

After dinner we were told information had been dropped at the hotels and business places that we were here to meet a director of the Colorado Navigation Company. We also learned that the steamer _Cocopah_ had also arrived from up-river the day before, and was now at her landing, two miles below town, waiting the return of the director from Wickenburg. Both Mr. Gray and Mr. Baldwin thought the horse-thieves were suspicious of out presence, for they had not placed the stolen ponies in any of the corrals or stables of the town. A horse-race was advertised to come off in the afternoon, half a mile below the steamboat landing, and Texas Dick and Juan Brincos had entered horses for the stakes.

Mr. Gray advised that none of our party should attend the race, saying that our absence would give the thieves a greater sense of security, and improve our chances of regaining the ponies.

Believing his convictions to be correct, I sent an order to the escort not to go south of the town during the day, and telling Frank and Henry to amuse themselves about the streets and the immediate vicinity of the town, started with Mr. Gray to look up and rent a building for a military storehouse.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A VIRGINIA CAVALIER.[1]

[1] Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 868.

BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.

CHAPTER VIII.