The Flying Boys in the Sky

CHAPTER XIV

MILO MORGAN SAVES THE DAY

As straight downward as if fired from the zenith, a tiny missile shot through the air so swiftly that no one saw it. It struck the ground directly in front of the four men and burst with a deafening report. In the same second, another followed the first, landing just behind the group with the same terrifying explosion. All saw the flash, the smoke and the flying particles.

Then a third and fourth followed with similar results. Succeeding the fire and crash a voice rang out:

“Run for your lives! Take to the woods or you are dead men!”

The command, which sounded as if it came from heaven, acted like an electric shock upon the four young men, who with gasps of dismay dived in among the trees with such headlong panic that two dropped their hats, and the others stumbled, crawling forward and scrambling to their feet as best they could.

The bewildered Harvey might have done the same, for it seemed the only way of escaping a frightful death, had he not fancied there was a familiar note in the deep bass voice. When he looked aloft, the strange occurrence was explained. Balanced directly overhead and not more than a hundred feet high, floated a monoplane. A slim man more than six feet tall and clothed in a long flapping duster was standing erect with a small, oblong object in his hand to which he had just applied a match. He let it hiss for a moment, and then tossed it away so that it fell only a few feet from where Harvey stood.

“Don’t be scared,” he called; “I’m just practicing how to drop a bomb on the deck of a vessel; these things make a loud noise but nothing more.”

As the delighted youth stared upward, he saw painted in glaring letters on the under side of the single plane the words:

“Aren’t you coming down to call?” asked Harvey. “No one could be so welcome as you.”

“So I judged from the way things looked; I have been up here some time watching matters. You keeled over that brute beautifully.”

“He is showing signs of revival.”

“Stand a little out of the way and watch me help revive him.”

Harvey, relieved beyond expression by the happy turn of affairs, sprang several paces aside and watched his friend aloft. He was still standing erect, balanced so perfectly in the calm that he did not have to steady himself. The missiles which he had flung to the earth were simply giant firecrackers, some six inches long and more than an inch in diameter. He knew when he lighted the powder-soaked string which served as a fuse how many seconds it would require to reach the powder within. It has been shown how accurate he was in his calculations.

Harvey saw the flicker of the smoking match as it was touched to the short dangling twist of fuse attached to the cracker which he held in his left hand beside his waist, while with one eye closed he squinted along the red tube as if aiming a gun. Then he parted his thumb and forefinger and the cracker tumbled downward end over end, and either through extraordinary skill or by good luck dropped upon the chest of Bill and burst with terrific force and deafening noise.

It certainly “revived” the man, for with a howl he leaped to his feet and plunged in among the trees in the wildest panic conceivable. A fifty-pound bombshell would have caused more damage but could not have created greater terror.

Harvey in the reaction of his spirits leaned against his biplane to keep from falling through excessive mirth. He had never seen anything so funny in his life. In the midst of his merriment, Professor Milo Morgan called down:

“I must be off; good-bye; better not bother with such folks as these.”

“But, Professor, won’t you make me a call?”

“Haven’t time; other matters are awaiting me.”

“Can you tell me anything about Bohunkus?”

“He’s round on the other side of the wood, waiting for you.”

As he spoke, the elongated aviator extended one arm, so that no doubt was left of the direction meant. Then he resumed his seat, and the Dragon of the Skies darted into space like an eagle diving from his mountain perch.

Harvey noticed again that swiftly as the man was speeding, his monoplane seemed to emit no noise whatever. It was certainly a remarkable muffler that enabled him to do this, and it explained why none of the party below had any inkling of the crank’s proximity until he made it known in the startling manner described. Moreover his uplifter held him sustained without motion, as we sometimes see a bird hovering over the ocean and preparing to dart downward for its prey.

“He has made enough inventions already to give him riches beyond estimate, but the fact seems to be the last to enter his head.”

But Harvey could not forget his dusky comrade. Professor Morgan had told where he could be found, provided he had not gone elsewhere in the meantime. The five young men with whom the couple had had their affray were still capable of making trouble. It was possible that when they found none was harmed, they would return to look into matters. The minutes were too valuable to be wasted.

Although the aeroplane had been exposed to danger it had suffered no injury. Instead of procuring a brake, in the form of a prop from the nearby wood, with which to hold the machine until momentum was gathered, the young aviator whirled the propeller about, stepped into his seat and grasped the control. The motor started at once and sent out its deafening racket. The little rubber-tired wheels began slowly turning and sped swiftly across the open space. Harvey waited until he was going very fast, when he drew back the handle and in the same instant felt he was traveling on nothing. Upward and outward he shot to a height of three hundred feet, when he circled about and came back over the wood, beyond which he glided to the other side.

It was there he ought to find Bohunkus. Slowing his progress as much as he could and still remain aloft, he scanned the earth in quest of the colored youth. There was the stretch of woodland, meadow and sparsely cultivated ground, with the small dwelling in the distance, the landscape being crossed by a winding creek which skirted the forest and lost itself far to the eastward.

But Bohunkus Johnson was nowhere to be seen.

“Likely enough he has started off on a run again with nobody chasing him and may not look behind until he has gone several miles. It would serve him right if I left him to get home the best he can. He has enough money to pay his way and – .”

Harvey’s eye rested on a large maple lying on the edge of the wood. It had fallen recently, for the foliage of the abundant limbs was still green. The trunk, which must have been two feet in diameter at the base, showed no branches for several yards, but was held a little above the ground by the sturdy and bent limbs upon which the greater weight was resting.

There was no particular reason why this object should interest Harvey, but it did, and he scrutinized it closely, as he slowly sailed past. Something moved, but so vaguely that he could not identify it. The object appeared to be under the log in the open space between it and the ground upon which it was supported. The distance was so trifling that Harvey did not call his binoculars into use.

The top of a person’s head, without a cap or covering except a mass of black wool, and a pair of staring eyes, showed over the top of the log. Their owner was watching the biplane, as if uncertain of its identity. Had the individual remained stationary, he would have come into clear view, as Harvey glided beyond him, but before that could take place, he ducked under the maple, whisked beneath, and raising his head, again peered over the trunk from the other side. He did not speak, but evidently was mystified and undecided what to do.

The amused Harvey curved about and then volplaned to the ground within fifty paces of the fallen tree. As he did so, he saw Bohunkus standing erect and grinning at him. He had donned his cap and was delighted.

“Did I scare yo’?” he asked, going forward to meet his friend.

“Scare me? How could you do that?”

“I knowed it was yo’ all de time; I thought I’d have a little fun wid yo’.”

“What were you doing behind that log, Bunk?”

“Nuffin; I felt sorter tired and laid down to rest till yo’ come along; I was getting out ob patience wid yo’; what made yo’ so late?”

“I have been looking for you; those were queer performances on your part.”

“What oblusions am yo’ obluding to, Harv?”

“You gave that fellow the best thumping he ever had, and then jumped up and ran off like a big coward.”

“Didn’t run away from nobody; it was dem ’leben fellers wid dere loaded guns dat was a chasing me like all creation; wouldn’t yo’ run yo’self?”

“Certainly, if I had been attacked by such a force, but I stayed behind and entertained the other four and there was only the one that troubled you. What became of that fellow who tried so hard to overtake you?”

“He’s dead,” was the solemn answer of Bunk.

“What killed him?”

“Me,” was the unblushing response; “I kept running till I got him away from de oder nine, so dey couldn’t help him; den I whirled about and lammed him so hard dat it was de last ob him; he’ll neber insult any ’spectable colored gemman agin.”

“Well, Bunk, I am afraid you will have to do your job over, for I saw him only a little while ago. He may be near at hand this minute.”

And Harvey glanced around as if alarmed by the probability of such a thing.

“Being dat am de way things stand, hadn’t we better emigrate, Harv?”

CHAPTER XV

UNCLE TOMMY

Like a sensible young man, Harvey Hamilton had made a study of his itinerary before leaving home. Allowing himself a margin of several days, he expected to rejoin his friends at the end of a fortnight. If all went well he would do so earlier, while there was always the possibility that he might be absent still longer.

He knew that the little town nestling several miles to the left was Darmore. It was at the base of a spur of the Alleghanies toward which he had been working his way from the first. His wish was to pass beyond the thickly settled districts. Nothing palls sooner upon an aviator than the endless succession of towns, villages, cultivated sections and monotonous scenery. While there must be a certain sameness in the expanses of forest there was always the chance of adventure which a normal youngster craves as he does his meals when hungry.

Harvey had meditated going to Darmore to renew his supply of fuel, but recalled that after passing the mountain ridge, another and larger town lay some miles away in the broad forest valley. He had enough gasoline to carry him thither and he decided to make the trip. He followed his general rule of not rising far above the altitude necessary to clear the tallest trees and elevations. Thus, viewed far from the rear, the aeroplane suggested that it was climbing the mountain side by resting upon and sailing over the billowy sea of foliage.

The summit proper was no more than two or three hundred yards in height, and having cleared it the young aviator mounted higher than before in order to secure a comprehensive view of the surrounding country and learn how correct his impressions were.

He was vastly pleased. Almost in a direct line and not far away lay Chesterton, a town of several thousand population and in the midst of a thriving section of the country. He traced the winding highways, the scattered farm houses, the broad, cultivated fields, the signs of busy life everywhere, and the enormous wealth of forest which continued up the farther slope, crowned the top of the ridge and stretched down the incline beyond.

The noisy motor in the sky and the queer looking object which seemed to be advancing sideways and at a rapid pace, drew attention wherever it was seen. Farmers riding over the dusty roads stopped their teams and stared aloft until they got kinks in their necks; men and women climbed to the roofs of their houses, as if the slight decrease of distance would help them, and breathlessly studied the strange sight, some of the spectators with the aid of spy-glasses; groups gathered on lawns, porches and in front of their homes; every window of a passenger train, to say nothing of the platforms, was wedged with curious observers, while several white puffs which shot upward from the steam whistle showed that the engineer was sending out a salutation to the aerial wanderer who could not hear it. Everybody had read of aeroplanes and seen pictures of them, but this was the first time the real thing had sailed into their sea of vision and no picture can stir like the actuality itself.

Two men, one of them carrying a gun, were walking over the high road, a little way to the right, and probably two hundred yards from the aeroplane. They had stopped and were surveying the strange object overhead. One of them abruptly raised his weapon and the little faint blue puff showed he had used the machine as his target. Instead of a shotgun the fellow fired a rifle. It was impossible of course to hear the report, but the sudden appearance of a small white spot on the framework of the upper wing, showed where the bullet had nipped off a splinter. Strange that so many people cannot observe a curious object without yearning to shoot it.

Harvey looked around at Bohunkus, and by a nod and the expression of his face asked whether he wished to be set down that he might properly chastise the scamp. The colored youth shook his head. He had gone through enough in that line to satisfy him. Harvey shied off and speedily passed beyond range. The fellow did not try a second shot.

Thus far the weather had been ideal, but a disagreeable change threatened. The sun was hidden by clouds, which increased in density and number, and the air became so chilly that both shivered. Harvey headed for Chesterton, for it was evident that soon all pleasure in aerial sailing would be ended for the time.

The approach of the aeroplane roused the usual excitement in the little country town, and when Harvey descended in an open space near the collection of houses, half a hundred people rushed thither to greet and give him whatever help he needed. He aimed to make a graceful landing so as properly to impress the spectators, but he got another reminder of the astonishing sensitiveness of the aeroplane, which must be handled far differently from an automobile. He was not quick enough in shifting the lever and hit the ground with so violent a bump that Bohunkus, who was not expecting anything of the kind, was thrown headlong from his perch and landed in a sitting posture with so loud a grunt that the onlookers laughed.

“What’s de matter wid yo’?” he asked angrily; “dat’s de right way to come down in an airyplane. Hab yo’ any ’bjections?”

“It’s the way you land,” replied one of the men, “because you don’t know any better.”

Bohunkus would have been glad to make a scathing retort, but was unable to think of one. So he said in the way of reproof to his companion:

“De next time yo’s gwine to try to knock a hole fru de airth, let me know so I can jump.”

“It will do you as much good to jump afterward as before. It looks to me as if a storm is coming, Bunk, and we must get the machine under shelter.”

The pleasant feature about the situation was that the crowd which had gathered and continued to gather was a friendly one. No one spoke an ill-natured word and all were eager to help in every way possible.

When Harvey stood on the ground, facing the group, he asked:

“Are we going to have a rain?”

“He’s the man that’ll tell you all about the weather for a week to come and hit it every time.”

The one who spoke pointed to an old farmer, without coat or waistcoat, with a ragged straw hat, chin whiskers and bent shoulders, who was chewing tobacco after the manner of a cow masticating her cud.

“How is it, Uncle Tommy?” asked the man who had just spoken.

The old fellow, still chewing, looked up at the sky and then around the heavens, squinting one eye as he carefully studied the signs.

“It’ll rain like all creation inside of a couple of hours; then it’ll hold up a little while and bime by start in agin and drizzle all night.”

“How about to-morrow?” asked Harvey.

“It’ll be bright and clear, but a little cooler than to-day.”

“Tell the young gentleman how the rest of the week will be,” insisted his neighbor.

“The next three days will be clear and rayther warmish; I won’t say anything beyond that this afternoon, but if ye wanter know, I’ll obleege ye to-morrer when I’ve had a snifter and my breakfast.”

“I am much obliged; you have told me what I wanted to know. I shall need shelter for this aeroplane; can any of you gentlemen help me?”

There was less difficulty than Harvey anticipated. Chesterton had a single large hotel or tavern as the townspeople called it, with the usual rows of sheds for the convenience of countrymen when they drove in from the neighborhood. With the help of several bystanders the machine was shoved over the road and through the alley – where much care was necessary to save the wings from injury – to the sheds at the rear. There, after some delicate maneuvering, the machine was worked into the shelter at the corner, where a fair hangar was secured.

“Here we stay till the weather clears,” said Harvey to Bunk, as they strolled into the hotel to get their dinner, for which each had a keen appetite.

Where all showed so hospitable a disposition, Harvey felt little fear of any harm to the aeroplane, though Bohunkus strolled out once or twice to make sure everything was right. After the meal the young aviator seated himself in the utility room, as it may be called. This was connected by a door that was always open with the bar, and was intended for the convenience of those who wished something a little less public. It was provided with several chairs, a round table standing in the middle of the apartment, and had a sanded floor and a few cheap sporting prints on the walls. A half dozen men were seated around, most of them with feet elevated on other chairs or the window sills, while they gossiped of the affairs of the neighborhood. They showed little interest in Harvey and Bunk. The former obtained pen, paper and ink from the landlord and spent a part of the afternoon in writing to his parents and to brother Dick in the Adirondacks. He named a town in advance which he expected to reach at the end of a week, as the proper one to which to address their replies. This duty attended to, Harvey looked at Bunk, whose cap had fallen on the floor as he leaned back in his chair and slept. There was no prejudice so far as yet shown against his race in that section and he was not annoyed by any one.