He had traced through cold and
heat, across the deeps of the oceans, with instruments of his own
invention, over the inhospitable heart of the polar ice and the
sterile visage of the deserts, league by league, patiently,
unweariedly, remorselessly, from their ever-shifting cradle under
the magnetic pole to their exalted death-bed in the utmost ether
of the upper atmosphere each one of the Isoconical Tellurions
Lavalle's Curves, as we call them today. He had disentangled the
nodes of their intersections, assigning to each its regulated
period of flux and reflux. Thus equipped, he summons Herrera and
Tinsley, his pupils, to the final demonstration as calmly as
though he were ordering his flighter for some mid-day journey to
Marseilles.
"I have proved my thesis," he writes. "It remains now only that
you should witness the proof. We go to Manila to-morrow. A
cyclone will form off the Pescadores S. 17 E. in four days, and
will reach its maximum intensity twenty-seven hours after
inception. It is there I will show you the Truth.
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