BOHUNKUS JOHNSON.
Suddenly a shout came from the edge of the field, and a negro lad
vaulted over the fence and ran toward the couple. As he drew near he
called:
“Why didn’t yo’ tole me ’bout dis, Harv?”
“I did call at your house for you, but Mr. Hartley said you were
asleep.”
“What ob dat? Why didn’t yo’ frow a brick fru de winder and woke me up?
Gee! What hab yo’ been trying to do, Harv?”
The newcomer was about the same age as Harvey Hamilton, but taller,
broader and larger every way. He was the “bound boy” of a neighbor and
had been a playmate of the white youth from early childhood. He was as
much interested in aviation as Harvey, and had been trying to build an
air machine for himself, or rather helping his friend to construct one,
but their failure was so discouraging that they gave it up. What was the
sense of attempting such a task when Mr. Hamilton stepped in and bought
one of the best of aeroplanes for his son?
Professor Sperbeck had met Bohunkus Johnson, being first attracted by
his odd name and then by the willingness and good nature of the colored
youth. Bunk, as he was generally called by his acquaintances, was much
disappointed because he had not been present earlier, but no one was to
blame except himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked about
the aeroplane, which he had admired upon its arrival, inspecting and
trying to understand its workings.
“Hab yo’ flowed?” he asked, abruptly halting and looking at Harvey who
retained his seat.
“Not yet.”
“Why doan’ yo’ do so? What’s de use ob fooling round here?”
“Professor Sperbeck thinks I should learn more before leaving the
ground. How would you like to try your hand?”
Bohunkus took off his cap and scratched his head.
“I guess I’ll watch yo’ frow flipflaps awhile.”
Harvey turned to the Professor, who shook his head.
“You don’t wish to smash the biplane so soon. You will have enough
tumbles without his help. If you are ready you may try it again.”
By this time Harvey had become somewhat accustomed to the sensitiveness
of the machine. It required slighter movements of the lever than he had
supposed and the response was sometimes quicker than he expected. He
understood what his instructor meant by insisting that an aviator should
become familiar with his machine.
Bohunkus was asked to hold the rear of the aeroplane until the revolving
propeller acquired more velocity. The dusky youth buried his heels in
the dirt and held the framework with might and main. The pull rapidly
increased, while he put forth all his strength, which was considerable.
The Professor gave no help, but trying to keep his face straight,
watched things. Despite all he could do, Bunk was compelled to yield a
few inches. He still resisted desperately, but while he could not add to
his power, the uproarious motor fast did so. Suddenly it made a bound
forward, and Bunk sprawled on his face, with his cap flying off. His
hold had slipped and the machine shot forward with a speed far greater
than any one of the three could have reached.
“Hang de ole thing!” exclaimed Bunk, climbing to his feet and brushing
the dust from his clothes; “what’s de use ob it yanking a feller like
dat?”
The roaring motor was too near for either of his friends to understand
his words, but it was easy to imagine their substance.
When Harvey had completed his circuit of the field, Bunk asked that he
might try his hand. He certainly was not lacking in assurance, but the
Professor would not consent.
“You might do well, but the chances are you would not. You will get your
chance after a time. You may ride with Harvey if you wish.”
With some hesitation, Bunk climbed into the seat behind his friend.
“Am yo’ gwine to go up?” he asked.
“Not at present. Why do you wish to know?”
“So I can jump if yo’ don’t manage things right.”
He grasped one of the supports on either side and braced himself.
Naturally he was timid, but it did not seem to him there could be much
danger so long as they remained on the ground. Half way round the field,
his self-confidence returned, and his dark face was lighted with a broad
grin as the machine came to a stop near where the Professor was waiting.
“Why can’t yo’ fly fru de air by staying on de ground?” was the next
bright question of Bohunkus; “dat would be as nice as habin’ Christmas
come on de fourth ob July, so yo’ could slide down hill barefoot.”
“Suppose I relieve you for awhile,” suggested the instructor. Harvey
sprang to the ground and Mr. Sperbeck took his place, indicating, when
Bohunkus started to leave his seat, that he should remain.
A few minutes later, the negro received the shock of his life. The
Professor allowed the aeroplane to rush over the ground until its speed
must have been forty miles an hour. Then he pulled back the lever and it
instantly began mounting into the air. Bohunkus did not comprehend what
was going on until he was fifty feet aloft and still ascending.
He threw his head to one side and stared at the ground, which appeared
to be rushing away from him with dizzying swiftness. For an instant he
meditated leaping overboard and catching the earth before it got beyond
his reach. He partly rose to his feet, but the distance was too great.
He called to the Professor:
“Stop! I doan’ feel well; let me git down. What’s de use ob such
foolishness?”
But there was too much uproar for the aviator to hear, and had he caught
the words he would have given no attention. Bohunkus in his affright
glanced across the field to where Harvey Hamilton was standing with his
gaze on the machine. Harvey waved his hand and the simple act did much
to bring back the courage of the negro.
“I guess I can stand it as well as him,” was his reflection; “so go
ahead.”
The course of Professor Sperbeck might well give the youth a calmness
which he could not have felt in other circumstances. He skimmed several
miles over the country, rising five or six hundred feet in the air, and
attaining a velocity of fifty miles an hour. He had been pleased with
the aeroplane on the ride from Garden City, and was still more pleased
upon trying it out again. It seemed to have gained a steadiness and
sureness which it lacked before.
As has been said, the real test of an aviator’s skill is not in sailing
through the air where all is tranquil, but in starting and in landing.
Professor Sperbeck had left the ground without the least difficulty and
he now came down with the grace and lightness of a bird.
In the afternoon Harvey Hamilton resumed his lessons, the instructor
complimenting his proficiency.
“If the conditions are favorable to-morrow, we shall leave the ground
with you at the helm,” he assured his pupil, when they gave over the
attempts for the day. At the side of the field nearest the house, Mr.
Hamilton had had a hangar built into which the aeroplane was run and the
door carefully locked. It was natural that the neighbors should show
much curiosity in the contrivance, and there was no saying what mischief
they might do. Bohunkus felt so much concern on this point that he came
over to his friend’s home after the evening meal and joined them on the
porch, where Mr. Hamilton was also seated.
“I think,” said Bunk, “that we hadn’t oughter leave dat airyplane by
itself.”
“We haven’t,” replied Harvey; “the building is strong and the door
locked.”
“But some folks mought bust off de lock and run off wid it; some ob dem
people am mighty jealous ob me and yo’, Harv.”
“They are all good friends of ours,” remarked the merchant; “I’m sure
nothing is to be feared from them.”
“I hopes not, but I feels oneasy.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Dat some one keeps watch all night.”
“Suppose you do it?”
“I’ll take my turn wid Harv.”
“Very well; when the night is a little farther along, Bunk, you may go
out there and stand guard till say about midnight; then come to the
house and wake up Harvey, and he will take his turn at playing
sentinel.”
“That soots me,” Bunk was quick to say, knowing it would be much easier
to keep awake during the first half of the night. So, while the others
chatted as the evening wore on, the colored youth rose, yawned,
stretched his arms and announced that he would go to his home not far
off, tell Mr. Hartley and his wife of the arrangement and then assume
his duties at the hangar.
Although he saw no call for all this extra care, Harvey was quite
willing to divide the duty with his colored friend, but he meant that
Bunk should come to the house and rouse him, for he could not be
expected to stay awake. However, the young aviator dreamed so much of
flying through the air, and was so absorbed with the entrancing scheme,
that he was the first one to wake in his home. He sprang out of bed, as
the sun was creeping up the horizon, and lost no time in hurrying out to
the hangar to learn why Bohunkus had not called him, though he held a
strong suspicion of the real reason.
As Harvey sped around the corner of the low, flat structure, the first
object upon which his eyes rested was Bohunkus, stretched out on his
back, his mouth open, and breathing loudly, as no doubt he had been
doing through most of the night. Harvey left him lying where he was, and
rejoined his folks with the story of what he had seen.
An hour later, Professor Sperbeck, accompanied by the merchant and
Harvey, walked to the hangar to resume the instruction of the previous
day. In the interval, Bohunkus had awakened and gone for his breakfast.
He said nothing of his remissness and his friends did not refer to it,
since they had more serious matters to hold their attention.
Mr. Hamilton was much pleased with the proficiency shown by his son, but
did not stay long, since important business called him to the city. The
day was a busy one for the young aviator, who was allowed to make a
flight in the afternoon with the watchful Professor seated behind him.
He had very few suggestions to make.
When Harvey came down to earth, he bumped rather energetically, but no
harm was done, and on the third trial no criticism was made. Two more
days were spent in practice and then the instructor said:
“You are prepared to make as long a voyage through the air as you wish,
and without any assistance from me.”