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:
“THE DRAGON OF THE SKIES.”
“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?”