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THE FLYING BOYS SERIES
THE FLYING BOYS IN THE SKY
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THE FLYING BOYS SERIES
Timely and fascinating stories of adventure in the air, accurate in
detail and intensely interesting in narration.
—BY—
EDWARD S. ELLIS
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FIRST VOLUME
THE FLYING BOYS IN THE SKY
SECOND VOLUME
THE FLYING BOYS TO THE RESCUE
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THE FLYING BOYS SERIES is bound in uniform style of cloth with side and
back stamped with new and appropriate design in colors. Illustrated by
Edwin J. Prittie.
Price, single volume $0.60 Price, per set of two volumes, in attractive
box $1.20
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[Illustration: THE BIPLANE FORGED BRAVELY AHEAD.]
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THE FLYING BOYS SERIES
THE FLYING BOYS
IN THE SKY
BY
EDWARD S. ELLIS
Author of “Catamount Camp Series”,
“Deerfoot Series”, etc., etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
EDWIN J. PRITTIE
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA
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Copyright, 1911, by
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. LEARNING TO FLY 9
II. BOHUNKUS JOHNSON 18
III. THE AEROPLANE IN A RACE 27
IV. TRYING FOR ALTITUDE 36
V. A WOODLAND EXPERT 45
VI. WORKING FOR DINNER 54
VII. THE DRAGON OF THE SKIES 63
VIII. THE PROFESSOR TALKS ON AVIATION 72
IX. THE PROFESSOR TALKS ON AVIATION 79
(Continued)
X. THE FLYING BOYS CONTINUE THEIR JOURNEY 90
XI. FIRED ON 98
XII. PEACEFUL OVERTURES FAIL 107
XIII. SCIENCE WINS 117
XIV. MILO MORGAN SAVES THE DAY 125
XV. UNCLE TOMMY 134
XVI. A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION 143
XVII. CALLED TO THE RESCUE 152
XVIII. PLANNING THE SEARCH 161
XIX. THE AEROPLANE DESTROYED 170
XX. A PUZZLING TELEGRAM 179
XXI. BEGINNING THE SEARCH 188
XXII. IN DANGER OF COLLISION 197
XXIII. THE CABIN IN THE WOODS 206
XXIV. ON THE TRAIL OF THE BACKHANDERS 215
XXV. A FALSE CLUE 224
XXVI. THE SEARCH RENEWED 233
XXVII. BOHUNKUS AT THE LEVERS 242
XXVIII. FIRED ON BY THE KIDNAPPERS 251
XXIX. RETRIBUTION 260
XXX. THE RESCUE 269
XXXI. LYNCH LAW 278
XXXII. MYSTERIES ARE EXPLAINED 288
XXXIII. WHERE IS BOHUNKUS? 297
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
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THE BIPLANE FORGED BRAVELY AHEAD _Frontispiece_
PAGE
A FANLIKE STREAM OF LIGHT SHOT OUT 64
IN THE CENTER STOOD A LOG CABIN 194
THE BOMB HAD EXPLODED WITH TERRIFIC 262
FORCE
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The Flying Boys
in the Sky.
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CHAPTER I.
LEARNING TO FLY.
One mild summer morning in 1910, Ostrom Sperbeck, a professional
aviator, stood on the edge of a broad meadow belonging to the merchant,
Gabriel Hamilton, closely watching the actions of Harvey Hamilton, the
seventeen-year-old son of his friend, to whom the lithe, smooth-faced
German was giving his first lessons in flying an aeroplane.
It was on the return voyage from Naples to New York of the Italian
steamer _Duca degli Abruzzi_, that Mr. Hamilton and his boy made the
acquaintance of the genial foreigner, who was on his way to the United
States to take part as a competitor in several of the advertised meets
in different parts of the country. The acquaintance thus begun ripened
into a strong friendship and the Professor became the guest of the
merchant, who was a commuter between his country residence and the
metropolis.
The youth, like thousands of American boys, was keenly interested in the
art of flying in the air, and the Professor was glad to undertake to
give him instruction. The two went by train to Garden City, Long Island,
where the elder found his new Farman biplane awaiting his arrival.
Harvey mounted to the aluminum seat in front of the gasoline tank and
engine, while his conductor placed himself a little below him in front,
where his limbs had free play. The machine was pointed to the southwest
and Harvey enjoyed to the full his first ride above the earth. His
attention was divided between the wonderful moving panorama below and
studying every action of the expert, who was as much at home on his
elevated perch as when seated in the smoking room of the _Duca degli
Abruzzi_, chatting with his friends. He noted the movements of the feet
which controlled the vertical rudder at the rear, and the lever beside
which the Professor sat and elevated or depressed the horizontal rudder
on the outrigger in front, thus directing the ascent and descent of the
machine.
A thrilling surprise awaited Harvey when, after two stops on the way for
renewing the gasoline and oil, they reached the merchant’s home.
Professor Sperbeck wished to make a preliminary tour through the country
which he had now visited for the first time, and he left his order at
Garden City for the construction of a new biplane. The one that had been
finished was sold to Mr. Hamilton, who made a birthday present of it to
his son, it being a question as to who was the more pleased, Harvey or
his parent.
Omitting other preliminaries for the present, let us return to the
smooth, sloping meadow where under the eye of the German expert, the
young aviator was receiving his first instruction in the fascinating
diversion.
“I know that you did not let an action of mine elude you,” said the
Professor, “and you feel that you understand pretty much all.”
Standing by the biplane, the smiling Harvey nodded his head.
“I have a dim suspicion in that direction.”
“You can never make yourself an aviator without self-confidence, but you
may have too much of it. In that case you become reckless and bad
results are certain to follow. Nor can you learn by simply observing the
conduct of another. You have a motto in your country about experience.”
“It is Benjamin Franklin’s,—‘Experience keeps a dear school but fools
will learn in no other,’” said Harvey, atremble with eagerness.
“Quite true; well, if you please, you may seat yourself.”
The lad stepped forward and sat down, his feet resting on the cross
lever below, while he grasped the upright control lever on his right.
“Suppose you wish to leave the ground and mount into the air?”
“I pull this lever back; the motion turns up the horizontal rudder out
there in front and the auxiliary elevating rudder in the rear; when I
have gone as high as I wish, I hold the rudder level, and when I wish to
descend, I dip it downward.”
“Nothing could be more simple; and when you desire to change your
direction to the right or left?”
“I work this lever with my feet, as we do in tobogganing.”
“You have two smaller levers on the left.”
“They control the spark and throttle.”
“We won’t enter further into the construction of the machine at present.
I am sure you were born to be a successful aviator.”
The quiet assurance of these words vastly strengthened the confidence of
Harvey Hamilton. He knew the Professor believed what he said, and who
could be more capable of correct judgment? Then, as if fearing he had
infused too much courage into the youth, the instructor added:
“So far everything seems easy and simple. We were fortunate on our way
here, in having the most favorable weather conditions, but you are sure
sooner or later to run into complex conditions. Columns of cold air are
forever pressing downward and warm ones pushing upward. This constant
conflict creates air holes and all sorts of twists and gyrations that
play the mischief with aviators, unless they know all about them.
“You have seated yourself, but don’t try to start till I give the word.
I wish first to put you through a little drill. I shall call certain
conditions and you must do the right thing on the instant. Are you
ready?”
“Fire away,” replied Harvey, on edge in his expectancy.
“Ascend!”
Like a flash the youth pulled the control lever back.
“Too far; lessen the angle.”
He promptly obeyed.
“Volplane!”
Harvey pushed the lever forward, but not too far.
“Quite well; go to the right.”
The youth started to shift the rear rudder with his feet and smiled.
“That is hard work.”
“Why?”
“Because of the gyroscopic action of the propeller; it is much better to
turn to the left, though I suppose one can manage a long turn to the
right.”
“The Wright brothers have no trouble in swinging that way.”
“Because they use two propellers, revolving in opposite directions, thus
neutralizing that gyroscope business.”
“You are tipping to the left!” shouted the Professor.
On the instant the aviator swung the control lever to the right.
“You are caught in a fierce tempest.”
Since Harvey could not well make the right evolution he replied:
“I should dive into it.”
“That’s right; never run away from a maelstrom. I suppose you feel
competent to make a voyage through the air?”
“I don’t see why I cannot,” replied Harvey; “I studied everything you
did on our way from Garden City and I think I know what to do in any
emergency.”
“Admitting that that is possible—which it isn’t—it is all-important that
before you leave the earth you should get acquainted with your machine.”
“Ask me about its parts and see whether I am not.”
“That isn’t what I mean; you got that information from the answers to my
inquiries at the factory at Garden City, which I asked for your benefit.
You must be as familiar with the aeroplane as with your pony which you
have ridden for years and feel as much at home in your seat as if you
had occupied it for months. It will take time to acquire that
knowledge.”
“I am at home now,” replied Harvey, who could not help thinking his
friend was over-cautious.
“Your danger is of having too much self-confidence. Remember and do
exactly what I tell you to do and nothing else.”
The pupil assured his instructor of the strictest obedience.
“Very well.”
The Professor stepped to the rear, grasped a blade of the propeller and
gave it a vigorous swing. That set the motor going with its deafening
racket, but it was so throttled that the machine stood still for a
minute or two, Sperbeck holding back all he could with one hand until
the pressure became too great to resist. Then the aeroplane began moving
forward, with fast increasing speed. When it had traveled a hundred
yards, Harvey grasped the lever ready to point the front rudder upward
upon receiving the order from the Professor. The noise of the motor
would have drowned the loudest voice, and the youth kept glancing around
for the expected signal. But it was not made. Instead, the Professor
motioned with one hand for him to circle to the left. Harvey was
disappointed but did not hesitate for an instant. He came lumbering and
lurching over the sward, and, shutting off the motor, halted a few paces
in front of his instructor, who had lighted a cigarette.
“It is best to cut grass for two or three days,” explained the teacher.
“It surely will not take that long,” replied Harvey in dismay.
“I trust not, but no ascent will be attempted to-day.”
Harvey forced himself to smile, though he made a comical grimace.
“Put me through the paces; I’m bound to learn this business or break a
trace.”
Several spectators had gathered on the edge of the field and were
watching the actions of the two with the aeroplane. They would have come
nearer had not Harvey warned them by a gesture not to do so. He did not
mind their enjoying the sight, for they could do that when a little way
off as well as if closer, but they were likely to get in his way, and
hinder matters.
Again and again the biplane went awkwardly forward on its three small
wheels with their rubber tires. The field contained ten or twelve acres,
thus giving plenty of space for maneuvering. Once he came within a hair
of running into the fence, because as it seemed to him the machine did
not respond with its usual promptness, but he showed rapid improvement
and the Professor complimented him on his success.
“I’m playing the part of a navigator of a prairie schooner,” said the
youth, “though they are drawn by animals instead of being propelled by
wind. I suppose, Professor, that before the summer is over you will let
me try my wings?”
“That depends upon how well you get on with your first lessons.”