A UNIQUE PROPOSITION
The aviators beat Mr. Graham, but no great exultation followed this
feat. While Frank and Phil were housing the airship Mr. Graham appeared
and entered the aërodrome. For fifteen minutes there were sounds of
earnest conversation; then Mr. Graham and the boys came out. Frank and
Phil, with sober faces, climbed into the car; Mr. Graham locked the
doors of the shed; put the key in his pocket and took the driver’s seat
in silence.
Each boy reached home in time for breakfast, but neither was quite
as hungry as he fancied himself an hour before. Mr. Graham had had
a sudden awakening as to his duties as a parent. Breakfast over and
Frank in fresh clothes, he was called to accompany his father to Mrs.
Ewing’s home where the two parents and the abashed aviators went into a
conference.
“Then it’s understood,” said Mr. Graham at its conclusion, “that
neither of you boys is to visit the airship shed, much less make
another flight, without my consent. _My_ consent, young man,” he added
addressing Phil, “not your mother’s. So far as this air business is
concerned, I’m now your guardian, Mr. Ewing. As for you, Frank,” he
concluded, “I think you understand.”
“Thank you, Mr. Graham,” broke in Mrs. Ewing. “If Phil only knew what a
night I put in he’d never think of doing such a thing again. Your lunch
is ready,” she added turning to the dejected Phil, “now hurry off to
the factory.”
Frank went to the office with his father prepared to take the machine
home. All the way he tried to think of something to say. Finally he
leaned forward and put his hand on his father’s shoulder.
“Say, pop,” he began, “why are you so put out?”
“If you knew what a night we passed you wouldn’t ask,” was the answer.
“I suppose you know we did something that has never been done before.
Don’t you think it a pretty fine thing to do something that they will
have to write about way over in London? Don’t you remember how pleased
you were when that New York art magazine said your new Davenport bed
was an inspiration?”
“That’s different,” growled Mr. Graham. “That means money.”
“No, sir,” protested Frank with a smile. “You just think so. What
pleased you was the fact that you had an idea; you thought of a good
thing before any of your competitors.”
“They do say it wasn’t a bad idea,” acknowledged Mr. Graham. “But this
airship――”
“Is my idea,” exclaimed Frank. “It may not mean money, but I’m proud of
it. Other people praise it. Why shouldn’t my father? I’d rather make
one new thing of use to the world than have the highest paid job on
your pay roll, if I only copy some other person’s plans.”
Mr. Graham shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ll smash the _Loon_ to smithereens if you say so,” continued Frank,
“but I hope you’ll think about it a little before you ask me to do so.”
“You needn’t do any smashin’ yet,” conceded Mr. Graham with a smile,
“but――well, we’ll see.”
Frank felt sure that his airship days were not at an end. Reaching his
home a little later, he found reporters for both the evening papers
awaiting him. His and Phil’s safe return had already spread over town.
Inexperienced, as was his father, Frank talked freely to the young
journalists. The result was that one paper told how the boys, worn out
with the strain of their struggle in the vortex of the hurricane, had
fallen unconscious to the floor of the car and only revived when Mr.
Graham found the monoplane wrecked in the field. The other account told
how the _Loon_ had risen to the height of twenty-three thousand feet,
instead of twenty-three hundred, and how the aviators would certainly
have frozen to death had it not been for the glass enclosed cabin. Here
the reporter added a detail of his own, which was that the aviators
were already planning a stove to be heated by the exhaust gases of the
engine. With this, he suggested, there would be no limit to the height
of future ascents.
Both papers in their last editions had pictures of the boys. So fully
was the entire story told that nothing more remained to be said, and
in three or four days the sensation of Frank and Phil’s flight,
accident and escape, seemed at an end. But the story of the flight had
traveled far, and it soon attracted attention that was to mean much to
both boys.
In fact, within a week, a letter was on its way to Frank that carried
them in a short time into the far West and eventually set them
“Battling the Bighorn.” In the adventures that subsequently befell
them among yawning chasms, and while soaring over snow clad mountain
heights, even the gripping pleasure of the “dash in the dark” was
forgotten.
Six days later Frank was surprised to receive a letter postmarked New
York and written on the heavy stationery of the well-known sportsman’s
club of that city――the “Field and Forest.” It was from his uncle, Mr.
Guy Mackworth――his mother’s brother. Frank had never had a letter from
his uncle, although Mr. Mackworth visited the Grahams――sometimes twice
a year. Mr. Mackworth and Mr. Graham jointly maintained a trout camp on
the Little Manistee, and Frank’s uncle or some of his eastern friends
were pretty sure to be there in June of each year. Now and then Mr.
Mackworth came out in the fall for the partridge shooting.
Frank’s uncle was an unusual man and, as can be surmised from the
exclusive club he frequented (most of the members of which are big game
hunters in all parts of the world), he was an assiduous sportsman. A
man of extensive means and a seeker of big and rare game, he pursued
his hobby in all sections of the globe.
Being a bachelor and a great traveler he had become a gourmet. Next to
hunting tigers in India, lions in Africa or moose in Canada, the proper
and inviting preparation of food was his chief diversion. In this he
had trained Jake Green, a young colored man, until the latter was
almost as skilled and fastidious as his master.
“Your uncle,” explained Mr. Graham to Frank, “makes himself as much at
home in camp as he does at his club. Like a true sportsman he roughs it
uncomplainingly if necessary, but by choice he prefers comfort when it
can be had. His camp outfit and shooting and fishing equipment are most
elaborate. Nothing that contributes to comfort, convenience or even to
luxury is omitted. Yet there is nothing provided merely for show. Each
thing has a reason.”
“I didn’t know he could cook,” remarked Frank a little surprised.
“Cook!” repeated Mr. Graham. “When time and circumstances permitted
I’ve seen him dress his brook trout with a hollandaise sauce that few
chefs could provide. And then I’ve seen him go twenty-four hours on a
moose trail with nothing to eat but raw salt pork.”
This was the letter Frank received:
“_My Dear Nephew:_
“_I want to congratulate you on breaking away from the
furniture business long enough to become a hero. (Show this
to your father and ask him to send me any news of the Little
Manistee.) I also congratulate you on being alive after what
I suspect was really a dangerous adventure. You see by this
that I am in New York and that I am taking the time to read the
newspapers. Not having been in the west last fall I did not
know you had gone in for aërial athletics. It interests me very
much. I was afraid your father might try to make a furniture
designer out of you. I believe you are sixteen. That’s quite
old enough to begin to show your mettle. I have an idea that
I shall conceal until I hear from you on this subject. Write
to me at once and tell me all about this sky-ship which you
and your friend have made. I tried to understand what it was
by reading the newspapers, but I couldn’t make it out. If it
is really practicable I want to know all about it. Especially
am I interested in the enclosed cabin. Tell your mother I have
been abroad since March and shall soon have as my guests, in
this country, Captain Arthur Ludington of the English Army and
Lord Pelton. I had a half formed plan to give them a taste of
trout fishing up on the Little Manistee; but this is no part
of my letter to you. You are to write me at once about your
aëroplane._
“_Very sincerely yours,_
“_Guy Mackworth._”
When Frank showed this important communication to his father the
latter laughed, pronounced it characteristic, muttered something
about English swells and told the boy to do as his relative asked. As
a matter of fact the practical manufacturer was reminded by the note
that Frank was Mr. Mackworth’s probable heir. Frank enlisted Phil’s
assistance in the composition of the asked for description and found
it no easy task. It was made more difficult by the query that was
always in each boy’s head: what was Mr. Mackworth’s idea concerning the
monoplane?
The letter to Mr. Mackworth, after describing in detail the big
adjustable plane wings and the long flat tail of the monoplane,
concluded:
“_The novel pilot and passenger car has what is known as a
‘stream line’ body; resembles a long cartridge and is of
aluminum and glass. Instead of a skeleton seat bolted to a
flimsy lattice of bamboo, the forward or cabin space――the
engine occupying the rear seven feet――contains two comfortable
seats. One of these is for the pilot and within reach of it
are the rudder stirrups for the aviator’s feet, the wheel to
regulate the planes or wings above, and the rods connecting
with the engine in the rear. Behind this seat is a duplicate
for a passenger, so located that the addition or omission
of a second person does not disturb the center of gravity.
The aluminum bottom of this compartment is a flat-bottomed
boat. This is the first wholly enclosed cabin or operating
space used in an aëroplane. Movable panels of aluminum and
glass are inserted between the boat body and the top of the
car, affording a wind, rain and cold-proof space. In the low
flights these sections may be omitted. In altitude flights
their principal advantage is as a protection against the
intense cold. We have also planned an electric motor for heat
generating coils in the cabin and it is wholly possible, as
soon as we get engine power strong enough to force us into
the upper atmosphere, we will carry a supply of oxygen in the
air-tight glass. In this way, with sufficient warmth and
oxygen, the Loon may soon break the altitude record and double
the present figures._”
The letter contained many other details and was forwarded at once. The
second day after it had been mailed came a telegram addressed to Frank.
“_Will cabin hold four men safely? Answer, Rush. Mackworth._”
The reply was:
“_Six or eight, four in comfort. Frank._”
In two more days came another letter. It was this that turned the
Graham household upside down, almost drove Mrs. Ewing into a panic and
threw Frank and Phil into what was little short of a delirium of joy.
The surprising communication was as follows:
“_My Dear Nephew:_
“_I am addressing this to you, but it is in reality written as
much for your mother and father. I see no reason why the idea
cannot be carried out. That is, I see no good reason although
I suppose your parents will find a number of objections. It
will be my business in a few days to debate those reasons in
person, if they are presented, for I shall be in Grand Rapids
within a week._
“_It is my plan to utilize you and your chum and the monoplane
on a hunting expedition. My English friends have arrived and
I find they are set on an expedition after the rare Rocky
Mountain sheep――the Bighorn. You know, I presume, how these
animals are usually hunted. In the valleys and canyons, beneath
their craggy haunts, hunters crawl from day to day, armed with
binoculars, searching each rocky height, point and crag for
some sign of the animal. If they are fortunate enough to get a
glimpse of one, they then begin the real work of trailing it
up the mountain sides, stalking the wary beast until on some
almost unscalable bench or summit they can get a shot. That is
what we used to do. Modern ideas, I have decided, make this
method obsolete. You, your chum, my two friends and I are
going to carry the Loon into the mountains and hunt the Bighorn
with the airship. Prepare to dismount your machine, make cases
for its parts and, after my talk with your parents, we’ll be
off for the west. Tell your father to let you have what money
you need and charge it to me. And, of course, if you have any
ideas of changes to be made――any additions that will improve
the monoplane for the work I’ve planned――don’t hesitate to make
them. Spare no expense to help me give my friends a successful
trip. Don’t bother about provisions or equipment as Jake will
be with us and see to them. Sam Skinner, one of my old guides,
will also be with us._
“_Your uncle,_
“_Guy Mackworth._”