Back Inhabitants all up and down the Line soon begin taking the Frenchman's Duck to their Bosoms, for being exactly what they wish to visit their lives at this Moment,— something possess'd of extra-natural Powers,— Invisibility, inexhaustible Strength, an upper Velocity Range that makes her the match, in Momentum, of much larger opponents,— Americans desiring generally, that ev'ry fight be fair. Soon Tales of Duck Exploits are everywhere the Line may pass. The Duck routs a great army of Indians. The Duck levels a Mountain west of here. In a single after?noon the Duck, with her Beak, has plow'd ev'ry Field in the County, at the same time harrowing with her Tail. That Duck!
As to the Duck's actual Presence, Opinions among the Party continue to vary. Axmen, for whom tales of disaster, stupidity, and blind luck fig?ure repeatably as occasions for merriment, take to shouting at their Com?panions, "There she goes!" or, "Nearly fetch'd ye one!" whilst those more susceptible to the shifts of Breeze between the Worlds, notably at Twilight, claim to've seen the actual Duck, shimmering into Visibility, for a few moments, then out again.
"I might've tried to draw a bead onto it,...but it knew I was there. It came walking over and look'd me thump in the eye. I was down flat, we were at the same level, see. 'Where am I?' it wants to know. 'Pennsylva?nia or Maryland, take your pick,' says I. It had this kind of Expression onto its Face, and seem'd jumpy. I tried to calm it down. It gave that Hum, and grew vaporous, and disappear'd.”
Mason and Dixon attempt to ignore as much of this as they may, both assuming 'tis only another episode of group Folly, to which this Project seems particularly given, and that 'twill pass all too soon, to be replaced by another, and so on, till perhaps, one day, by something truly dangerous.
"They'll believe what they like," groans Mason, "in this Age, with its Faith in a Mechanickal Ingenuity, whose ways will be forever dark to them. God help this Mobility. They have to take all Projectors upon Trust,— half of whom have nothing to sell, who know nonetheless of this irrational need to believe in automatons, believe that they can sing and dance and play Chess,— even at the end of the Turn, when the latch is press'd and the Midget reveal'd, and the indomitable Hands fall still. Even as Monsieur Vaucanson furls back the last Silk Vestment,— no matter. The Axmen have a need for artificial Life as perverse as any among the Parisian Haute Monde, and this French toy, conveniently invisible, seems to—
"Look out!" Dixon cries. Mason's Hat leaves his head and ascends straight up to the Tree-tops, where it pauses, catching the rays of the Sun, just gone behind tomorrow's Ridge-top. Faint Quacking is heard above.
"Very well," Mason calls, " 'Toy' may've been insensitive. I apologize. 'Device'?"
Armand comes running out. " Tis being playful, nothing more. Ah, Chér-i-e," he sings into the Sky. "I'll guarantee their Behavior,— only please return the Gentleman's Hat, Merci..." as the Hat comes down Leaf-wise, zigging one way, zagging another, whilst Mason runs back and forth anxiously beneath.
"You'll guarantee what?" Dixon wants to know.
"Whilst advanc'd in some areas, such as Flight and Invisibility," Armand explains, "yet in others does the Duck remain primitive, fore?most in her readiness to take offense. You must have notic'd,— she has no shame, any pretext at all will do. As her Metaphysickal Powers increase, so do her worldly Resentments, real and imagin'd, the shape of her Destiny pull'd Earthward and rising Heavenward at the same time,— meanwhile gaining an order of Magnitude, in passing from the personal to the Continental. If not the Planetary." Perhaps fortunately, no one present has any idea what he is talking about.
"I should have puzzl'd more," Mason now admits, "that Dr. Vaucan-son was listed among those sent copies of Monsieur Delisle's Mappe-monde ............