Orkney’s battle with Scrub Payne made a great stir in the school. There
were some evidences of a change in the popular temper, which might be
taken to bear out Poke’s view that the luck had turned. Sam and his
chums noted more signs of good will; they had reason to believe that
some of the boys who had voted with them at the election of a class
secretary were now ready to ally themselves openly with the club. On
the other hand, though, there was nothing to indicate that Zorn was
losing his hold upon the majority of the class, between whom and the
club the line continued to be sharply drawn.
The club still flocked by itself. No outsider had been invited to visit
the camp on the lake shore, and no visitor appeared there. On the other
side of the sheet of water activities were increasing. Although the
buildings had not been completed, the big pavilion was in condition
for use, and a band played there Saturday afternoons and evenings. Some
of the cottages were occupied, and there was much travel on the road
leading from town to the new resort. On several occasions Sam saw Zorn
speeding along on his motorcycle, going at a great pace and raising a
thick cloud of dust; and he had glimpses, too, of Jack Hagle driving by
in a light wagon. But they were only glimpses. The fine, dry weather
held, and the dust was so deep along the highway that the boys, when
they hiked back and forth, often preferred to take to the fields,
avoiding the smother of the dust clouds.
By night, and with all precautions for secrecy, Poke and Step
transferred the dismantled Saracen to the shed by the big field,
and then set themselves to reassembling the monster, helped on by a
holiday. They declined assistance from their chums.
“You chaps mean well,” Poke told them, “but the machine has a lot of
delicate adjustments, and--well, I don’t want to hurt your feelings,
but your fingers would be all thumbs. So you just leave things to Step
and me, and we’ll show you.”
“When?” somebody asked pointedly.
“Pretty quick,” Poke replied. “Of course, all the--er--er--all the
rigging won’t be in place, but in a jiffy we’ll have things so far
along that we can give you a pretty good demonstration.”
Sam was moved to urge caution. “Don’t be in too much of a hurry. We can
wait.”
“Don’t you worry!” Poke retorted with a touch of dignity. “We’re going
about this whole thing right. We’re going to look mathematically before
we leap--understand?”
Sam interpreted this as meaning that the Shark had not yet completed
his computations; and the Shark, on inquiry, admitted that this was the
case.
“I’m not going to make any mistakes, if I can help it,” he declared.
“Too serious business.”
“It surely is,” Sam agreed. “Broken bones are no joke.”
“Huh! It’s worse to find you’re wrong in your calculations!”
Sam surveyed the mathematician sternly. “Confound it, Shark! Can’t you
be human?”
“I’m mighty human,” vowed the other. “I hate to have to confess I’ve
blundered.”
“But everybody blunders sometimes.”
“Ought not to--not when it’s a case of mathematics.”
Sam thought this over. “Well, I hope there’ll be no slip in your
figures this time,” he said soberly.
“Huh! There won’t be,” quoth the Shark calmly. “I’ll know just where
I’m at before I say a word.” And with that he resumed his attention
to the sheets of mysterious diagrams and computations, which he had
brought with him to the camp.
It was a week-end stay the club was making at the lake. All the members
were there, but when the Shark returned to his labors in the tent,
Sam for the moment found himself alone. Herman was fishing somewhere
along the shore, Poke and Step were fully occupied with the flying
machine, Tom Orkney had led the somewhat reluctant Trojan aside, and
was coaching him on a Latin lesson. Sam strolled over to the big
Council Rock and perched himself on one of its ledges. There he was
half-meditating, half-dozing, when Herman came into sight, hurrying
along at a great pace. Instantly he hailed Sam:
“Say, I’ve found something--got a tip of trouble! Call the crowd
together, and I’ll tell you.”
Sam shouted lustily. Step and Poke were out of hearing, and the Shark
kept at his task, but Orkney and the Trojan came readily enough. They
ranged themselves beside Sam, and awaited Herman’s tidings.
“Well, it was this way,” he explained. “I was fooling along, not
catching anything and not caring much whether I got a nibble or not.
And, all of a sudden, that young Hagle came out of the bushes, and
tiptoed up, as if he were afraid of his life. I don’t like him. So I
was pulling in my line and getting ready to quit, when he began to
stammer out something about my waiting to hear some important news.
I asked him what it was, and he stammered worse than ever, and kept
turning and peering around, as if he thought a bear was about to jump
out at us. It wasn’t easy to make head or tail of what he said; but
finally I caught his drift. It was about the ownership of the land
we’re on. Well, it seems it’s part of the tract Zorn’s father bought,
and Ed’s stirring up his father to have us fired as trespassers.”
Tom Orkney whistled; Sam’s expression grew anxious.
“I wonder if his father will do it,” said the Trojan.
“I asked about that,” Herman went on. “Hagle thought he might put us
off. It wouldn’t be so much because we were we--because it was our
crowd, you know--as because the syndicate wouldn’t want to have anybody
on the land. And there’s always the chance of campers starting a fire,
especially when things are as dry as they are now.”
The boys nodded agreement. “Fire surely would run through the brush
like a racer,” quoth Orkney.
“Well,” said Herman, “it was kind of surprising to have Hagle trying to
do us a good turn. I guess I blurted out something of the sort. Anyway,
Jack got more flustered than ever and more nervous, and between the
way he mumbled and his wriggles when he turned to see if anybody was
spying on us I didn’t catch half he said. But what I did catch seemed
to be about being sorry for something or somebody. And then he broke
off short, and beat it. Say! he slipped away like a snake almost! Funny
chap, that Hagle, I tell you!”
“Seems to mean well, though,” Orkney observed.
Herman was glancing at Sam as leader of the clan. “What’s your notion
about the business?” he asked.
“That for some reason or other Hagle is trying to do us a favor. I
don’t know why--I don’t see how we can discover the reason. But we’d
better take advantage of his tip.”
“How?” Orkney inquired.
“By going straight to Mr. Zorn and asking permission to stay where we
are.”
“That’d be taking the bull by the horns.”
“It’s the best way. If we’ve got to leave, let’s go gracefully and not
be kicked out.”
“That’s sense!” the Trojan declared.
“Right!” said Orkney. “But when will you look Mr. Zorn up?”
“Now--right away,” Sam answered. “Very likely he’s at his cottage this
afternoon.”
“Want any company?”
Sam deliberated a moment. “Yes. Maybe it would be a good scheme to
have the crowd along, so he could look us over and see that we’re not
dangerous.”
“Then you’ll take Poke and Step and the Shark?”
“We’ll give them a chance to go, anyway.”
But the Shark, as it proved, preferred to remain in the camp. He
growled savagely when Sam looked into the tent.
“Hang it all, don’t interrupt me! Keep away, can’t you? I’m just
getting where I’ve tried to arrive for a week. I’ll be there in five
minutes more, if only you’ll let me alone.”
“All right; suit yourself,” said Sam, and stepped back. He beckoned to
Orkney, the Trojan and Herman, and led the way through the woods to the
shed in the big field.
There, evidently, something was doing. The Saracen was standing in
plain sight before the shed, poised trimly on the bicycle wheels and
with wings symmetrically out-spread. Step was pottering about the
motor, while Poke, hands on hips, was surveying the machine with
immense satisfaction.
“Hulloo! What! Finished, is it?” Sam inquired with interest.
“Oh, practically,” replied Poke loftily. “Few odds and ends to be
adjusted, maybe--that’s all.”
“Do you mean you’re ready to fly?”
“Why not?”
Sam coughed dubiously.
Step, finishing his work on the motor, joined the others. “Some bird of
a job there, eh?” he remarked complacently.
“Umph! Proof of the bird is the flying,” said Orkney drily.
Poke and Step exchanged glances. “Oh, she’ll fly fast enough,” the
former declared. “Start the motor, then get her to moving, then shift
the planes, and--whisk, there you are!”
“Where are you?”
“Up over head, and going like sixty!”
“Shucks! I don’t believe it.”
Again the builders glanced at each other. “Might start her up, and let
’em see how she pulls,” Step suggested.
Sam now noticed that a rope ran from the rear of the machine to a
stump, to which it was made fast.
“Oh, you’re anchored, are you?” said he.
“That’s so we can make a test, and judge the power we’re getting from
the propeller.”
“Hurrah! Let’s see the wheels go round,” cried Herman.
“Why--why, I guess we can show you,” said Poke.
“Sure we can!” declared Step enthusiastically; and, marching back
to the machine, cranked the motor. There was a tremendous sputter,
followed by a deafening barking. Step stretched his long arms and
tugged at a lever, whereat the propeller began to revolve smoothly and
swiftly.
Step shut off the power, and as the noise of the motor ceased peered at
his friends. One or two had their hands at their ears, but all appeared
to be impressed by the performance.
“Well, what are you going to say now?” he demanded.
“So far, so good,” said Sam. “Only----”
“What’s the use of ‘only’ and ‘if’ and ‘but’ and all such discouraging
talk? You’ll never get anywhere by it.”
“The Saracen’s in grand voice--I’ll say so much for him,” Herman
volunteered.
“Ho, ho! That isn’t a marker to his performance when he really gets
going and warms up.”
Tom Orkney had been regarding the machine intently. “Look here, Step!”
he said. “You’ve no self-starter. What’ll you do if the motor stops
when you’re doing loops half a mile up?”
It was Poke who made answer. “Huh! What good would a self-starter do?”
“Well, I’d hate to have to get out of the seat and try to walk around
on air and crank up,” Orkney pointed out.
Poke reddened. “Much you fellows know about flying! Of course you can’t
walk around on air, and rest wrenches on clouds, or crawl under the
machine to see what’s wrong! You don’t do things that way.”
“Well, what _do_ you do?”
“Give us a dress rehearsal,” suggested the Trojan.
“I will!” cried Poke excitedly, and climbed to the seat of the
Saracen’s driver. There he settled himself, swiftly tested a brace of
levers, twanged the wire braces experimentally, and nodded to Step.
“Wind her up!” he ordered. “We’ll show ’em a thing or two.”
Step seized the crank, willingly enough.
“Say, don’t forget, Poke, to advance the spark,” jeered Herman.
“Huh! It’s kept that way!” snapped Poke.
Step spun the crank, and the furious barking of the motor began again.
Indeed, it was louder than before and the reports came with much
greater frequency. The propeller revolved with a speed which made the
blades melt into a sort of hazy halo. The anchor rope tautened. So
great was the strain that, to Sam’s anxious eye, the line seemed to
shrink.
“Hold on! That’s enough!” he shouted, but the thunder of the
mufflerless motor drowned his voice. He turned to his companions--and
caught sight of the Shark, approaching at a run and wildly waving a
sheet of paper above his head.
Then Poke did something--none of the onlookers knew just what; even
Step later had to confess ignorance. But the something was followed by
an increase in the furious roaring of the motor. The whirling blades
of the propeller spun madly. The anchor line vibrated like a fiddle
string. Then, suddenly, it parted with a report audible even in that
frightful tumult.
The Saracen shot forward, gliding with swiftly increasing speed on
its bicycle wheels. There was a slight slope to accelerate its start,
though, truth to tell, there seemed to be no need of such help. The
boys saw Poke making strange motions, tugging vainly at the levers, as
he dashed away on such a ride as had never entered into even the dreams
of any of them.
The Shark came up, breathless with haste. He caught Sam’s arm, and
stared dazedly at the departing machine.
“Stop him, somebody!” he gasped. “Just--just worked it out. What’d you
let Poke go for before I told him? That--that thing won’t fly!”