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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Why why Griggs," he mumbled, "what did we " "Oh, we flew away from fire with the Anti-Fire-Fly!" I said. Such was the end of the Anti-Fire-Fly. Attired in such of our own raiment as had survived the cinder pile and the hose, and in other bits of clothing contributed by kindly factory workmen, we took the next boat for New York, and a cab thereafter.
Some seconds of dizzy swirling in the air, and the clothes-basket portion of the Anti-Fire-Fly lay on the roof of the ferry-boat, while Hawkins and I hung far above, entangled in the cords and clutching them wildly and rising steadily once more! "Great Caesar's ghost!" gurgled the inventor. "This is awful!" "Awful!" I gasped when breath had returned. "It's it's " "Lord! Lord!
Sure, we've just drew the foire, an' thim's the hot coals! Be careful o' the cinder poile!" "What did he say?" asked Hawkins superciliously. "'Be careful of the cinder pile, I think." "Oh, we won't hurt your old cinder pile!" called the inventor jocosely, as the wreck of the Anti-Fire-Fly swooped down with a rush. "But the cinders!" howled the man. "Bedad! They're into it! Mike! Mike!
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