PREPARATIONS FOR THE EXPEDITION UNDER WAY
Within a few hours after Frank received this astonishing communication,
he had collected five opinions concerning it. These were:
Frank: “Next to sailin’ away to a tropic island in the South Seas on an
old-fashioned three-masted brig in search of lost treasure, it’s the
greatest thing that could have happened.”
Phil: “I’ll go if I lose my job.”
Mrs. Graham: “It’s perfectly ridiculous. I can’t understand what
brother Guy means.”
Mrs. Ewing: “I always knew that flying machine would bring us bad luck.”
Mr. Graham: “Talk it over with me, eh? Well, meanwhile, you boys
needn’t bother with any preparations. You’re not goin’.”
Mr. Graham’s speech was made about noon. Frank expected that his father
would be against Mr. Mackworth’s plan. Therefore, after several futile
attempts to introduce reasons in favor of the expedition, he gave up
for the time. He had scarcely left the office when Mr. Graham received
a letter from Mr. Mackworth.
After repeating what he had written to Frank, Mr. Mackworth went on:
“_You will, of course, object to this. In that you will be
unreasonable. As there is no school, it cannot interfere with
his education. From what I read, I know that he is capable
of doing what I want. Because you are his guardian you will
probably want to show your authority. This is the day of
progress. Men no longer wait until they are thirty or forty to
become famous. And the thing I propose may be the thing that is
to make the boys famous. Having no son myself, Frank is almost
my nearest relative. And I have not suggested this trip as a
means of taking chances with his life. I am perhaps only less
concerned in him than you are. Not even you, or his mother,
could watch over him more carefully. But, after all, if you
don’t want the boy to go with me, we’ll cut out the flying
machine. However, I’d like to use both the machine and the boy
and his friend. If you consent, I’ll stop with two English
friends about the end of the week._”
During the noon hour Phil rushed home from the factory to get his
mother’s views, but he found little to give him hope. The two boys had
instantly agreed that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. They jumped
at the suggestion as if they had been nursing the idea all their lives.
“Scoopin’ the snow off the loftiest mountain peaks,” suggested Phil
smacking his lips, “lead me to it. Do you reckon he’ll pay me wages?”
he added, suddenly alarmed over the thought of this loss.
“Wages? Shucks,” answered Frank. “Father gives you two weeks each
summer for a vacation. Make this your vacation.”
“But your father says you can’t go,” said Phil. “So what’s the use of
getting all worked up?”
“But you don’t know Uncle Guy,” answered Frank. “He’s awful strong with
father.”
“I wish he was as strong with my mother,” Phil said at last.
No sooner had Mr. Graham reached home than he went into an immediate
conference with his wife. There was a new outburst of tears and
protests but, when the family reached the dinner table, Mr. Graham said:
“Frank, are you confident you and Phil can operate that airship as well
as professionals?”
“Better’n most of ’em.”
“Do you think, if we let you go on this foolish trip, that you can act
more like a sane person and less like a lunatic?”
“You mean flyin’ in the rain at night?” laughed Frank.
“I mean, will you cut out experiments?”
“That means you’re goin’ to let me go?” shouted Frank. “Wait till I
call up Phil.”
“I have decided to listen to your uncle’s request and I may consent. I
telegraphed to him this afternoon.”
“Whoop-e-e!” yelled Frank, springing from the table. “I’ll tell Phil――”
“I called up Mrs. Ewing,” explained Mrs. Graham. “I told her what your
father had decided――”
“Then it’s all settled,” shouted Frank. In another moment he was
kissing his mother. “As for you, father,” he cried with another shout,
“I’ll show how much I thank you by calling on you to carry out the rest
of Uncle Guy’s request.”
“The rest?” asked Mr. Graham.
“Yes. He asked you to let me have any money I needed to prepare the
_Loon_. There’s considerable we can do, you know.”
“I believe he did,” answered Mr. Graham with his first smile. “Well, go
ahead; don’t stint yourself. It’s nothing more than your uncle deserves
and you can be sure I’ll keep strict account of every penny.”
“Good for you, pop. Now I want a real favor. Can’t Phil have his
vacation at present, instead of in August?”
“I suppose so,” was his father’s answer.
“Then I wish you would let him off up to that time――to help me. And
don’t dock him.”
“Do you mean so that he can work on the flyin’ machine?”
“Yes. It takes two of us.”
“Then it’s one of the expenses you have been authorized to incur. I’ll
charge his absent time to your uncle. But remember,” he added quickly
as Frank laughed, “the thing isn’t finally settled yet. I must see your
uncle first and talk with him.”
The perilous flight of the boys in the storm had taken place on a
Monday night. Mr. Mackworth’s last letters reached the Grahams just a
week later. Therefore, Frank and Phil began work on the preparation of
the car Tuesday morning.
After a week’s idleness the _Loon_ was out of its hangar early Tuesday
morning. It was as efficient as ever. Having shot out over the
fields for a few miles the boys headed back to town, crossed the big
lumberyards and furniture factories until the Grand River was reached.
This was a favorite stunt of the boys; to follow the beautiful, winding
stream until a deep looking stretch was reached and then to dart down,
hit the water with their hydroplane boat and, like a flying duck,
scatter the spray in a cloud.
“That’s sport,” exclaimed Phil, “but wait till we hit the mountains;
hot as blazes one minute and scrapin’ the snow off the peaks the next.
Listen to me: that’s the real stuff.”
“I reckon, from uncle’s letter,” said Frank a little later when the
monoplane was again in the air, “that they are countin’ on us takin’
two passengers up with us――”
“Maybe three,” suggested Phil. “Both of us don’t have to go every time.”
“Well, three――and we’ll draw lots for turns,” answered Frank. “One of
these, of course, will be Sam Skinner. I can kind o’ figure out what
a mountain looks like, but I can’t get any notion of what a western
hunter looks like. I hope he’ll wear buckskin and a bowie-knife. After
we sight old Mr. Sheep I suppose we’ll take orders from Sam and I
reckon he’ll tell the Englishmen when to shoot.”
“By the way,” added Frank, “what’s your idea about uncle’s guests?”
“Easy,” answered Phil. “Captain Arthur Ludington is a young officer
with a little cheese-box cap; a sofa pillow stuffed in his chest; his
handkerchief up his sleeve; tight pants and a snappy little cane.
That is, at home when he is soldierin’. Out here I reckon he’ll be in
huntin’ tweeds with a Scotch cap and orange-yellow puttees――also a bad
smellin’ pipe.”
“And Lord Pelton?” asked Frank.
“Oh, he’s different. He’ll wear a monocle and his face’ll look as if
it had been shaved two or three times a day. It’ll be red and his hair
will be white. He’ll wear tweeds, too; but he’ll have a high, soft
Austrian hat with a rooster feather in it. I suppose he’ll wear yellow
puttees, too; and he’ll say ‘Ah! Thanks’ every time you go near him.
And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d want someone to carry his gun.”
“Kind o’ sounds like ’em,” commented Frank. “Which one do you choose?”
“Sam Skinner,” answered Phil, chuckling. “Say,” he continued, “do you
suppose we’ll eat with the quality?”
“Eat with ’em?” snorted Frank. “We’ll eat with ’em and so’ll Sam
Skinner.”
Saturday morning a telegram announced that Mr. Mackworth would reach
Grand Rapids at four P. M. The _Loon_ was ready for dismounting but
the boys kept it standing that Mr. Mackworth might, if he desired, see
it in flight. Men from Mr. Graham’s factory had prepared packing cases
for each part.
The principal additions made to the monoplane were the warming coils,
small shaded incandescent lights at all the instruments――compass,
anemometer and altitude barometer, a powerful searchlight using either
acetylene gas or electricity, adjustable seats on each side of the car
and a light but strong rope ladder, hanging from the floor port of the
car so that one on the end of it could be landed by dropping off. And,
what was more important, the purchase and testing of a special supply
of gasoline and lubricating oil.
The town of Grand Rapids is known for the number of its men who are
sportsmen. This is probably because of the game possibilities in that
region. In addition to this, many of its business men are interested
in furniture and consequently in lumber. The present lumber country is
in Canada and the Grand Rapids men have acquired large holdings there.
A Michigan man will run up into Ontario for moose with as little
ceremony as if he were going to his country club over Sunday.
But, a day’s inquiry showed the boys that the only men who had shot
either the Rocky Mountain goat or Bighorn sheep were out of town, and
it was not until Friday evening that they were able to get a book
giving them the information for which they were thirsting. When they
received this book――a simple narrative with most graphic photographs
of the adventures of two men in the lower Canadian Rockies――even the
equipment of the _Loon_ was temporarily forgotten.
Although the book was a large one, Phil secured permission to spend the
night with Frank and, reading by turn, they finished the volume between
one and two o’clock.
“It seems to me,” said Phil, “that your uncle has solved the whole
problem. With the monoplane there’ll be no more perilous slides or
scaling of dizzy heights. Instead of stalking Mr. Goat or Mr. Sheep for
days through the snow, we can go to him like a telegram. I wonder why
no one else has thought of the safe and sane way to go about this kind
of hunting?”
Frank was laughing.
“Safe and sane, eh?” he chuckled. “Well, I reckon the aëroplane
business is spreadin’. But wait till you try to get old Sam Skinner to
go after the Bighorn in your ‘safe and sane’ way. He’ll probably prefer
the good old Alpine way.”
“In which case,” answered Phil, “it will be up to us to educate him.”
When Mr. Mackworth’s message arrived the following morning announcing
that he would be in Grand Rapids that afternoon, the boys rapidly
brought every preparation to a close. At four o’clock they and Mr.
Graham were at the depot with the six-cylinder. As the Eastern train
drew into the train shed Mr. Graham pressed through the gate to receive
his relative. The boys remained behind and in the background. Then they
made out――far down the train shed among the heaps of unloaded baggage
and express matter――Mr. Graham, Mr. Mackworth, two other men and Jake
Green, all busy with bags, cases and boxes.
“Say,” exclaimed Phil at once. “I wonder where the Englishmen are?”
“I reckon that’s them,” answered Frank, a little skeptically however.
“What, those――? They look like New Yorkers.”
“Maybe we didn’t guess right,” suggested Frank, rubbing his chin.
A moment later, with three or four porters in their wake and each laden
with bags and boxes, Mr. Mackworth and Mr. Graham piloted the strangers
through the gate. Mr. Mackworth greeted the boys jovially but with
no loss of time. Then the lads were presented to the strangers. This
formality over, Frank and Phil took charge of a portion of the hand
luggage and the men hurried forward in the big car to the hotel.
As the car sped away, the two boys faced each other and whistled――the
first chance they had had to compare notes.
“I guess we got our ideas from the funny papers,” said Phil at last.
“Or the newspapers,” added Frank. “Captain Ludington hasn’t got a cap
and a cane.”
“And Lord Pelton hasn’t a monocle,” added Phil. “Say,” he went on as if
he himself were amazed at the idea, “we’d better not be too previous
about these men――they don’t look like jokes at all.”
“But _I_ feel like one,” said Frank as he piled the baggage into a
taxicab. “Why, they don’t look at all like funny paper Englishmen;
they’re just regular folks.”