THE FLYING BOYS CONTINUE THEIR JOURNEY.
The morning dawned clear, mild and bright. Harvey and Bohunkus were
astir at an early hour and filled the tank with gasoline and replenished
the supply of oil. An examination of the aeroplane was made and every
wire, brace, lever and appurtenance found, so far as could be judged, in
perfect condition. The two went back to the house where an excellent
meal was awaiting them. Harvey slipped so liberal a fee into the hands
of the woman that she was delighted and showed it to her husband, who
grinned appreciatively. It may be said that he earned the extra pay
through a valuable suggestion to the aviator,—one that was effective and
so simple that it was strange it had not been thought of before.
“You tell me,” said Abisha, “that when one of them things is ready to
start on its flight, you hold it until the propeller has got its grip
and then let it go with a jump.”
“Something like that is the practice.”
“When there’s only two of you, how do you manage it?”
“The only way is to start the thing, with Bunk in his seat; I run
alongside for a few steps and spring into my seat.”
“You might slip and let the aeroplane get away from you. Then Bunk would
be thrown out on his head.”
“He wouldn’t be hurt if he landed that way,” replied Harvey with a
laugh, “but he might alight on his shins and that would be bad.”
“Let me show you a better plan.”
Abisha strode to the woodpile and came back with a long, strong stick.
He set one end in the ground, with the upper inclined against the
footboard. The prop thus gained held the biplane immovable before a
strong push.
“Let her shove all she wants to,” explained the man, “and when you’re
ready, kick the stick aside.”
“The scheme could not be better,” said Harvey admiringly, as he made
sure that the point in contact with the machine could not injure it. He
seated himself and Abisha swung the propeller around; the engine
instantly responded with its deafening roar and a powerful thrust was
exerted against the prop. In a few minutes, the youth leaned over,
grasped the stick and swung it aside. The machine made a bound like a
runner starting on a race, spun over the ground for a hundred feet or
more, and then in obedience to the upturned rudder in front, leaped
clear of the ground. She was off.
Harvey glanced back. In the door was the smiling housewife, with her
husband on the spot where he stood when the flight began. He waved his
hand in salutation and the two aviators responded.
This is a good place in which to give the explanation that must be made
in order to understand how it came about that these two youths were so
far from home, and engaged upon the outing that was destined to prove
the most memorable in the life at least of one of them.
Harvey Hamilton was the son of a wealthy merchant, whose business took
him to New York every week-day morning. The youth was preparing to enter
Princeton University, and his elder brother Dick was a student in Yale.
In the beginning of the summer the family separated, each member
indulging his or her taste in the way of vacation, with the parent glad
to pay the bills. The mother and daughter Mildred went to the White
Mountains, Dick to the Adirondacks with a party of students, while
Harvey and his father took a jaunt through a part of Europe, sailing
home from Naples on the _Duca degli Abruzzi_. Wife and daughter, knowing
when they were due, were at home to meet them. Dick was still in the
mountains, from which he wrote the most glowing accounts of his life in
camp and conquests of the gamy trout that are still to be found in the
cool streams.
On the homeward passage, Harvey and his father were lucky enough to meet
the noted German aviator, Ostrom Sperbeck, of whom we have heard
already.
Mr. Hamilton explained to the Professor that his son Harvey with the
assistance of the colored youth, who was “bound out” to a neighbor, were
at work on an aeroplane with which they hoped to fly, but the Professor
warned them against it.
“It is too dangerous; some of the best aviators have lost their lives
and you know that one of the Wright brothers came within a hair of being
killed. Encourage your son, if you wish, in the sport, for those who are
boys to-day are the ones that will make the greatest discoveries and
advances in aviation, but do not let him take any risks that can be
avoided. Buy him a first-class machine and forbid him to use any other.”
Mr. Hamilton was impressed with the advice and acted upon it.
Bohunkus Johnson was as ardent as his young friend, but, lacking his
mental brightness, was not given charge of the aeroplane, though
promised a chance of trying his hand later on.
So much having been told, it will be understood how on a pleasant summer
day, Harvey and Bohunkus started on their outing, with permission to be
gone several weeks, though their expectation was to return in the course
of ten days or so.
Several facts will be borne in mind. Nothing not deemed absolutely
necessary was taken with the aviators. Inasmuch as they could not stay
more than two hours in the air, without replenishing their supply of
fuel, they carried no food, nor were any weapons taken along, for it was
not probable they would ever need anything of the kind. Although Harvey
headed toward a spur of the Alleghany Mountains, with the object of
relieving what promised to become a monotonous experience at times, it
did not seem possible that they would ever run into personal danger from
that cause. He carried a pair of binoculars held by a strap over one
shoulder, for such an instrument was likely to prove useful in their
voyages through the air.
Harvey ascended for a fourth of a mile, and Bohunkus shuddered at the
thought of plunging again into the arctic regions, but his friend
lowered the front rudder and they skimmed away on a level. The view was
as entrancing as ever, with cities, towns, villages, scattered houses,
stretches of wood and cultivated country, winding streams, puffing
engines pulling trains that looked like insignificant toys, and the
gleam of what seemed to be a lake of several miles area in the distance.
The wanderer through the finest picture galleries in Europe can become
sated with the numberless master-pieces, and wonderful as was the
unfolding panorama, the youths grew tired of its splendid sameness. When
they gazed at the earth it was without any clear impression of what they
saw.
Far to the westward loomed a mountain, the outlines showing a dim blue
haze against the summer sky. Harvey had fixed the elevation in his mind
before leaving home and, it was his intention to sail over the summit
into the more unsettled country beyond. As near as he could judge the
range was about twenty miles distant.
“I can easily make it in an hour,” he reflected, “and not hurry.”
He was traveling at a moderate pace, for he did not like to impose a
strain upon the machine by pressing it to the limit. There was no call
for hurry, and after clearing the elevation he could land at some town
and buy what gasoline he needed. He shifted the course of the aeroplane
slightly, and descended until within two or three hundred feet of the
earth. There were no tall buildings to be avoided, and none of the trees
that showed were lofty enough to interfere. Bohunkus sat in his usual
seat, idly grasping the supports, for the progress was so smooth that he
might have folded his arms without risk, always provided the aeroplane
did not collide with any of the fierce aerial gyrations, which are so
dangerous to aviators, because being invisible, no precaution can be
taken against them.
Harvey slackened his speed still more, and coursed easily forward,
crossed a winding creek, and was skimming toward a moderate stretch of
woods, when he noticed a man standing on the margin and watching the
aeroplane. The fact that he held a gun in one hand did not concern the
youth, who, prompted by the spirit of mischief natural in one of his
years, dropped still lower and headed for the man, as if he meant to
crash into him.
The stranger, instead of turning about and dashing into the wood where
he would have been safe from pursuit, suddenly raised his
double-barreled shot gun and let fly with both charges. Nothing of the
kind had been dreamed of, either by Harvey or his companion, and they
were startled indeed when they heard the shot rattle through the wires
and framework of the machine. One of the pellets nipped the cheek of
Harvey and Bohunkus yelled,
“I’m shot all to pieces, Harv!”
Harvey turned his head in affright, but saw no evidence that the other
had been harmed in the least. The man, seeing that his hasty aim had
been ineffective, began hastily to reload his weapon with the evident
purpose of doing execution next time.