Bright Ideas: A Record of Invention and Misinvention

  Produced by Al Haines.

  "'TIS YOUR DOING," SPLUTTERED NOAKES, SHAKING THE SOOTFROM HIS CLOTHES. (_See page_ 28)]

  BRIGHT IDEAS

  A RECORD OF INVENTION AND MISINVENTION

  BY

  HERBERT STRANG

  ILLUSTRATED BY C. E. BROCK

  HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW TORONTO, MELBOURNE, CAPE TOWN, BOMBAY 1920

  *CONTENTS*

  THE SMOKE MACHINETRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTEDA GAS ATTACKTHE CLIPPER OF THE ROADTHE COLD WATER CUREA BRUSH WITH THE ENEMY

  *LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS*

  _FRONTISPIECE IN COLOUR_

  "''TIS YOUR DOING,' SPLUTTERED NOAKES, SHAKING THE SOOT FROM HISCLOTHES" (see p. 38). _Frontispiece_

  "THERE WAS A RATTLING SOUND AND NOAKES WAS HALF OBLITERATED"

  "ITS RIDERS WERE FLUNG INTO THE HEDGE"

  "TEMPLETON GRIPPED THE UNHAPPY MAN BY THE COLLAR, AND HAULED HIM UP"

  "'I'VE COTCHED 'EE,' HE CRIED"

  "'HERE I BE, AND HERE I BIDE,' SAID EVES, BRANDISHING THE POKER"

  "THEY TRIPPED OVER THE WIRE AND SPRAWLED AT FULL LENGTH"

  "'YES,' CUT IN EVES, WHO HAD COME OUT INTO THE ROAD. 'IF I WERE YOU,YOUNG FELLER, I'D JOLLY WELL CHUCK HIM INTO THE HORSE-POND'"

  "THE BOOM SWUNG OUT, AND CAME INTO SHARP CONTACT, FIRST WITH NOAKES'SHEAD, THEN WITH THE WIND-SCREEN"

  "DAZE ME!' SAID THE CONSTABLE. 'SURELY--AY, 'TIS THE MAYOR'"

  "THE WHOLE CONTENTS OF TEMPLETON'S EXPERIMENTAL TANK POURED DOWN"

  "THE LAD DASHED ITS HEAD FULL IN NOAKES'S FACE"

  "COVERED THEM WITH A DELUGE OF LIQUID MUD"

  *THE SMOKE MACHINE*

  I

  Bob Templeton tucked a leg under him on the parapet of the bridge onwhich he was sitting, and with a look of gloomy disgust spread a numberof coins, the contents of his trouser pocket, on the weather-beatenstone.

  "Eleven and ninepence," he said, dolefully. "That's all."

  Tom Eves, who had been leaning his elbows on the bridge, and watchingthe roach darting among the weeds in the clear running stream below,straightened himself, smiled, and, diving a hand into his pocket, gave acomical glance at the coins it returned with, and said:

  "Well, you beat me. I've got seven and fivepence halfpenny, and nochance of more for nearly a couple of months. We're sturdy beggars:under a pound between us."

  "You can't do much with a pound."

  "True, old sport, and still less with nineteen and twopence halfpenny.Might as well not count the halfpenny."

  "And there was so much I wanted to do. There's the levitator, and thesmoke machine, and the perpetual pump----"

  "And the microphone, and the lachrymator, and the super-stink----"

  "And the electric cropper, and the tar entanglement, and--but what's thegood of talking? They all mean cash."

  "Well, haven't I read, in the days of my youth, in the excellent SamuelSmiles, that most inventors have been poor men?"

  "That's all very well; but they started with more than nineteen andtwopence half-penny--and war prices, too! It's maddening to think whatchances we are missing. This is just the sort of place where you canthink out things quietly. No masters to pounce on your inventionsbefore they are half finished. That automatic hair-cutter, now; therewas a ripping idea simply squashed flat. A few touches would have madeit perfect. If that blatant ass, young Barker, hadn't shouted before hewas hurt----"

  "Barked before he was bitten."

  "Eh? Oh, that's a pun. I wish you'd be serious. If he hadn't shoutedand brought old Sandy on the scene the thing might have been finished bynow, and on the market."

  "And what would the Hun say when he came back after the war and foundyour patent cutter in every one's pocket? His job would be gone.Really, I've a sneaking sympathy with the gentle Hun."

  "I haven't--not a ha'porth. Anyway, now we've got to begin all overagain, simply because young Barker hadn't the pluck of a--of a----"

  He paused for want of a word.

  "Of a cucumber?" suggested Eves, promptly filling the gap.

  "Yes--of a cucumber," snapped Templeton, who, for all his lack ofhumour, was quick to suspect levity in his chum.

  "By gum, he did look a sight!" added Eves, grinning in gleefulreminiscence. "Half his crumpet bald as a billiard ball; t'other halfmoth-eaten."

  "Serve him right. If he'd waited until we'd readjusted the clippers,and shut his face instead of raising Cain and bringing old Sandy rushingin at a mile a minute, I'd have made a thorough good job of him. He wasa beautiful subject, too; hadn't seen a barber for six weeks."

  "And enough grease on his mane to make the thing self-lubricating.There's an idea for you, old man."

  "Yes; I hadn't thought of that. But what's the good? Here we're in aquiet village, with the run of old Trenchard's disused barn; all theconditions favourable, but no funds! Upon my word----"

  "Hullo, Postie," cried Eves at this point. "Anything for us?"

  The village postman, a veteran of sixty years, had appeared round thecorner of the lane that abutted on the bridge, his boots white with thedust gathered since he had started his morning tramp of ten miles acouple of hours before.

  "Marnen, young genelmen," said the postman. "Fine marnen, to be sure.Ay, I've got one little small thing in the way of a registered letter."

  "Then I've no further interest in you, my friend," said Eves."Registered letters are not in my scheme of life."

  "Good now; that saves me the trouble of asking ye which is Mr. RobertTempleton. No, no," he added, as Templeton held out his hand. "Ye'llsign the bit o' paper first. Just there, with my pencil, an 'ee please;'twon't rub out, and I've got to think of my fame in the land; fortyyear in the service and no complaints, I don't care who the man is."

  Templeton signed the green-tinted receipt slip; the postman handed overthe letter, bade them good morning, and shambled away.

  "From my aunt," remarked Templeton as he cut open the envelope.

  "My prophetic soul!" exclaimed Eves. "How much, Bob?"

  Templeton flourished a ten-pound note, but made no reply until he hadread through the accompanying letter, which he then handed to Eves withthe remark, "She's a good old sort."

  "Wasn't it Solomon said, 'Go to the aunts'?" said Eves. A broad smilespread over his face as he read the letter, which ran as follows:

  "MY DEAR NEPHEW,

  "I am really _sorry_ that we shall not be able to spend the holidaystogether this year, as we have often done so _delightfully_ in the past,but I feel that I am only doing _what is right_. It is _so important_in these terrible times that everybody should practise the _strictesteconomy_ in food; and every one must do what he (_or she_) can for ourdear country; and I have every hope that by going about the villages inmy caravan, as I told you in my last, and delivering simple lectures onthe greens and other public places, I may persuade the dear people,_especially the mothers_, that it is not _really necessary_ to health tohave _both_ bacon _and_ eggs for breakfast _every_ morning. If you werea little older and more experienced I am sure that you would be able_and willing_ to give me _very great_ assistance; but after your_arduous labours_ at school I feel you need complete rest from brainwork, and you will get that nowhere s
o well as with _dear_ Mr. and Mrs.Trenchard. To make up for your disappointment in being deprived of ourusual simple pleasures I send you a little pocket-money, which I am sureyou will spend _wisely_. I _hope and believe_ that you will not indulgein luxuries; we all of us owe it to our _King and country_ to eat aslittle as we can. You will find that _barley water and onions fried inmargarine_ make an excellent light breakfast; will you tell Mrs.Trenchard that, _with my love_? In the course of my tour I hope toreach Polstead before your holidays come to an end. I will give yougood notice, and rely on you to ensure me a _large audience_.

  "Your affectionate aunt, "CAROLINE TEMPLETON."

  "Excellent Aunt Caroline!" exclaimed Eves. "But your 'arduous work,'Bobby. My hat!"

  "I work jolly hard."

  "The labour we delight in don't show on our reports, old man. Anyway,you've got a tenner. Better an aunt in England than a pater in India.The old boy's all right, of course; I don't blame him, but that oldmummy of a solicitor who manages things here. He'll pay MotherTrenchard's weekly bills on the nail, but he won't send me another pennytill next quarter day; theory is, teach me economy, as if any man couldcome through the summer term with a pocketful of money! The wonder isI've got fivepence halfpenny plus seven bob."

  "Well, Aunt Caroline's tenner will go a long----"

  "Will go along too fast," Eves interrupted. "What will you try first?"

  "You see, I've got such loads of ideas. Better start with somethinguseful and patriotic. The hair-cutter can wait."

  "That's rather a pity. Young Noakes's flaxen locks are as long andtwice as oily as Barker's. Still, his father might cut up rough; he'dcertainly charge you for the hair-oil you'd wasted. Noakes gets mybristles up, and Trenchard looks very blue when he calls. Wonder whathe comes for; we've only been here three days, and he's called twice attea-time, and eaten enormously. Any one could see the Trenchards didn'twant him; asked him to stay out of politeness, I suppose."

  "I say, we're not getting on. There's the tar entanglement."

  "Jolly good idea! Thousands of Huns stuck fast like flies on afly-paper; you know, one of those you unroll and can't get off yourfingers. But don't tar come from gasworks?"

  "Really, I don't know. Why?"

  "I believe it does. That idea's off, then, for the present. Let's trysomething with material we can get close at hand."

  "Well, what about the smoke machine? With the submarines sinking ourvessels----"

  "Jolly good idea! Lick the submarine, and the Hun's done--_un_done, youmight say. I vote for the smoke machine, then. By the way, where willyou change your note? A tenner's a rarity here, I fancy, and Trenchardwon't have any change."

  "He'll be going into Wimborne or Weymouth or somewhere to draw hishands' wages at the week-end. We can jog on till then. That's himcalling us, isn't it?"

  A prolonged shout reminded them that it was time to start work.

  "Another idea, Bob," said Eves as they crossed the bridge and walked upthe road. "An automatic turnip-puller. Of all the dreary, deadly,backaching jobs, pulling turnips is the rottenest."

  "Still, it's work on the land; got to be done by some one. An automaticpuller: I'll think it over."