ABOVE THE EARTH.
As it grew dusk the boys found themselves flying high above a pleasant
wooded country, dotted here and there with small villages and prosperous
looking farms. From their lofty station they could see men and women
rush out below them waving their arms in excited amazement as the
contestants in the big race swept along. Cattle and horses, too, tore
about their pastures mad with terror at what they doubtless thought were
terrible destroying birds of enormous size.
Occasionally, too, they would fly above rivers and railroads and by
noting these carefully they managed to keep their bearings clear. The
_Despatch_ aeroplane was now far behind and the dirigible had taken up
second place. The auto had been lost sight of also.
“Send out a wireless. We must locate Billy and the others,” said Frank.
The instrument clicked off the message, its blue spark leaping and
crackling across the gap like a tongue of living fire.
In a few minutes a reply came back.
“We are now passing Cresston, Pennsylvania. Land and wait for us at
Remson. You can tell it by its red brick church tower.”
“There it is off there to the north about five miles,” cried Harry,
pointing to where a tall red tower stood out against the sky.
“I hope we can find a good landing place there,” said Frank, setting his
rudder over a bit. The airship answered like an obedient steed. Round to
the north she swung, her gyroscopic balancing device keeping her from
heeling over, even at the sharp angle at which Frank guided her round.
As they drew near Remson the greatest excitement prevailed. People could
be seen scurrying out in all directions and pointing upward. Suddenly a
deep-toned “ding-dong” was borne upward to the young sky navigators.
“They are ringing the church bell to announce our arrival,” cried Frank.
“Well, I hope they’ve got supper ready for us,” laughed Harry;
“air-riding gives me an appetite like a horse.”
A few hundred yards from the center of the town was a flat green field
which made an ideal landing place. Frank swept downward toward it and as
the townsfolk saw that the aeroplane was going to drop there was a
mighty rush of townsfolk. The road leading to the field was black with
them. The younger ones climbed fences and cut across lots to get there
in time.
Frank saw that unless they got out of the way there was going to be
trouble. He shouted to them to clear a path, but either from stupidity
or from ignorance of aeroplanes they stood stolidly gazing upward, open
mouthed, as the aeroplane rushed down.
“Out of the way!” yelled Frank.
“Hurray!” cried the people, not budging an inch.
There was only one thing to do to avoid injuring someone and that was to
attempt to land at the further end of the field where there were some
trees. This meant a risk of smashing the _Golden Eagle_ or at least
damaging her, but if loss of life was to be avoided it was the only
course to pursue.
With a ripping, rending sound, as the twigs and branches grazed her, the
big plane dropped to earth.
There was a sharp, snapping sound, as her landing wheels struck the
ground. A branch had caught one of the rudder-guide wires and torn it
out, breaking a pulley wire. Worse still, one of the wheels was badly
damaged. But the crowd minded none of this. They rushed in and began
handling the aeroplane, pulling wires and twisting wheels and levers,
till the boys began to despair of ever getting their craft away from
Remson intact.
All at once, however, a big red-faced man appeared and began angrily
driving the people back. He was the owner of the field, it seemed, and
was dressed like a farmer. When by dint of threatening them with the
constable he had succeeded in getting the crowd to fall back to a
respectful distance, he began to ply the boys with questions.
They were too busy examining the damage done to their craft to answer
many of them, and the man doubtless thought them a very surly pair of
youths.
In a few minutes the auto drove up and there was more excitement.
“What’s happened?” asked Billy, as soon as the three occupants of the
car reached the boys’ side.
“A bit of bad luck,” said Frank, straightening up from his scrutiny of
the damage.
“Let me look at it, boys,” said old Mr. Joyce, who had spent the whole
trip over his beloved calculations.
He crawled in under the plane, and soon emerged again, shaking his head.
“We’ll have to get a new wheel,” he said. “If I had wire, a tire and
tools, I could invent one, but I haven’t.”
“But where can we get one?” gasped Harry, for spare wheels were one of
the necessities the boys had forgotten to put in the auto.
“A bicycle wheel would do,” said Mr. Joyce, who was seated on the grass
designing an improved mousetrap.
Inquiry developed the fact that nobody in Remson was willing to sell a
bicycle wheel, and the boys were almost in despair until one of the
villagers volunteered the information that there was a bicycle factory
at Tottenville, twenty miles away.
“We’ll have to go over there in the auto. That’s the only thing to do,”
announced Frank.
“Looks like it,” agreed the others.
An arrangement was made with the red-faced man whereby the boys leased a
bit of his field for a camping-place for the night, and the waterproof
tent was soon erected, the portable cots set up, and the blue-flame
stove started going under a liberal supply of ham and eggs and coffee.
Lathrop went into the village and soon returned with pie and cakes. The
boys’ meal was rather a public one, for the villagers seemed hypnotized
by the sight of the sky boys, and gazed stolidly at them as they ate, as
if there was something as wonderful in that as in their flights.
While they were eating, a farmer, who had driven into town from a small
village some miles away, announced that the dirigible and the _Despatch_
aeroplane had landed there.
“Well, we are holding our lead, anyway,” remarked Harry cheerfully.
“I hope we can maintain it as far as Pittsburg,” said Frank, for, of
course, all the contestants had to race over the prescribed course.
As soon as supper had been despatched the boys got into the auto,
leaving old Mr. Joyce to guard the aeroplane, and, after making
inquiries about the road, started off for Tottenville. The road was a
straight one, and there was a bright, full moon, so they did not
anticipate any difficulty in arriving at their destination. Before they
started Frank ’phoned to the factory, and an assortment of wheels was
left for them in charge of the watchman, as the factory would be closed
for the night long before they could reach there.
Frank sent the auto bounding over the road at a fast clip. Their lights
shone brightly in front of them, showing them the track for some
distance ahead.
“Look there!” suddenly shouted Lathrop, as they swept down a steep hill.
Directly in the road in front of them the headlights revealed a big,
lumbering hay-wagon, loaded high with its sweet-smelling burden.
“Hey, get out of the road!” shouted Frank at the top of his voice.
But the man on the wagon seemed to be asleep. Anyway he paid no
attention to the boys’ loud hail, but kept serenely on in the middle of
the road. His big lumbering wagon quite prohibited all chance of passing
him.
“Stop the machine,” cried Harry.
Frank shoved on the emergency brake. But instead of the auto coming to a
stop there was a sharp snap as if something had broken.
“It’s busted,” cried Frank. “I can’t stop the car.”
“Now we are in for it,” exclaimed Harry.
On rushed the auto, gathering speed as it tore down the hill.
Suddenly the man on the hay-wagon awoke, and, looking back to ascertain
the cause of all the noise behind him, saw the car bearing down on him.
“Stop it!” he shouted.
“I can’t!” yelled back Frank.
“Oh, we’ll all be killed,” cried Lathrop.
But the man was shouting something and pointing ahead.
“What’s he saying?” asked Billy through his chattering teeth.
“He says if we don’t stop we’ll all be killed. There’s a bridge ahead
and only room for one vehicle on it.”
As Frank spoke, the boys saw the bridge, a narrow, wooden affair. The
road widened a particle just before it reached the bridge. The arch
spanned a quite wide creek, the water in which sparkled brightly in the
moonlight. Dumb with alarm the boys sat helplessly in the onrushing
auto. Frank gripped the wheel and desperately cast about for some way to
get out of the difficulty.
Suddenly he almost gave a shout. To one side of the bridge he saw that
the banks of the stream were low and sloped gently. It might be possible
to run the auto across the stream that way.
At any rate he decided to try.
As the auto reached the point at which the road widened, the boy swung
the speeding machine over and whizzed by the wagon so closely that wisps
of hay clung to the auto’s side.
But the lead horses—there were four of them—blocked access to the
bridge.
The next minute there was a shout of alarm from the boys, as they saw
that Frank meant to dash across the stream. The auto struck the bank,
seemed to bound into the air, and then crashed down into the water with
a force that threw a cloud of spray high above it and thoroughly
drenched its occupants.
But to Frank’s great joy the machine did not overturn, nor did it seem
damaged, as it kept right on through the water, which, luckily, was not
deep, and dashed up the other bank. Here Frank managed to get it under
control—as the opposite side of the creek was a steep grade—and the
car came to a stop with a grunt and a groan.
“Gee whilikens, I thought you was all killed for sure,” exclaimed the
badly frightened countryman, as he drove up to the group of boys, who
were out of their car by this time and busily examining the extent of
the accident to the emergency brake.
“It wasn’t your fault we weren’t,” blurted out the indignant Billy. “You
are a fine driver to go to sleep like that.”
“Don’t you sass me, young feller,” roared the countryman; “what business
have you got to be flying around the roads in that choo-choo cart and
scaring folks out of their wits?”
“Just as much as you have to be occupying the whole road and going to
sleep like that,” retorted Billy.
“I’ve a good mind to give you a licking, young feller,” said the man,
starting to climb down from his wagon. But he thought better of it, as
he saw the four determined looking boys standing there in the moonlight.
“I’ll fix you later,” he muttered. “Git up, Sal; git up, Ned,” and he
cracked his whip and the wagon rumbled on up the hill.
A short survey showed the boys that the damage done to the brake could
be repaired with a few turns with the monkey-wrench, one of the bolts
having worked loose. The adjustment made, they climbed back into the
car, and were soon speeding once more toward Tottenville.
At the factory they found the watchman waiting for them, with several
new wheels of the stoutest make.
“You’re in luck,” he said, as the boys paid for the one they selected
and gave him something for his trouble besides. “This wheel was made for
one of them air-ship bugs that lived in this town. He bruk his neck
before it could be delivered, and it’s lain here ever since.”
The boys agreed that however unfortunate it had been for the luckless
Tottenville aviator, it was good luck for them, and after thanking the
man they started back for Remson at a fast clip.
As they bowled along they passed a ruinous looking hut, in which, late
as was the hour, a light was burning.
“That’s funny,” said Frank.
“What’s funny?” inquired Billy.
“Why, to see a light burning in a tumble-down hut like that at such an
hour. Folk in the country go to bed early as a rule; and see there,
there’s an automobile in front of the house.”
Sure enough, a big touring car, with its lights burning brightly, was
drawn up in front of the hut, which lay back at some distance from the
road.
“It is queer,” agreed Harry.
As the boy spoke they all started at an unexpected happening.
From the hut there came a piercing cry of:
“Help!”