A DASH FOR LIBERTY.
As silently as possible the escaped captives made for the Electric
Monarch. They had almost gained the side of the craft when an
unexpected obstacle barred their further progress. The interruption was
in the form of a big white bulldog.
“Gosh all hemlock!” gasped Reuben, “I plumb forgot about old Lion.”
“Is he mean?” asked Tom.
“Mean, wa’al he’s a sight meaner than old Turpin hisself, and thet’s
a-goin’ some.”
As if to show that his character had been described correctly, Lion
gave a low growl and then, without any further warning, sprang straight
at Jack. The boy jerked up his foot and caught the animal under the
chin. With a yapping bark it tumbled back, but collected itself in
an instant for another spring.
[Illustration: “Maw! Maw!” They heard him yell at the top of his lungs,
“the boys is got out”.--_Page 249_]
At the same instant the boys heard a window go up in the farmhouse.
“Wow!” exclaimed Tom, “about this time watch out for trouble.”
“Lion! Lion!” came a voice which they recognized as Turpin’s.
The dog gave a yapping bark. Simultaneously old Turpin must have
seen, by the moonlight, that the barn door in which the boys had been
confined was open.
“Maw! Maw!” they heard him yell at the top of his lungs, “the boys is
got out, gimme my gun!”
Lion at the same instant decided to make another attack, but in the
brief pause while he was listening to his master’s voice Tom had taken
time by the forelock and picked up a big rock. As Lion made another
spring Tom flung the rock.
There was a howl of dismay from Lion, who rushed toward the house.
Shouts and cries filled the air.
“Maw! the young varmints hev killed Lion!”
“Paw, take arter ’em. Hev the law on ’em.”
Then came another feminine voice.
“Look out, paw, they’re des’prit characters. They might kill you.”
“That’s the old man’s darter. Teaches school,” said Reuben laconically,
“we’d best be lighting out o’ here.”
They scrambled on board in less time than it takes to tell it. Jack
jumped for the controls and turned full power into the motor. There was
a yell of dismay from Reuben as the Electric Monarch leaped forward
like a horse under the lash. The amazed farm hand would have rolled
overboard had it not been for Tom, who grabbed him by the collar as he
lost his balance and fell sprawling on the bridge.
“Hey! Whoa thar’! Come back, you young varmints!”
The voice of Farmer Turpin came shrilly out of the night. Then behind
them came a streak of flame and the roar of an explosion. Looking
backward they could see the figure of the farmer sprawling on his back,
kicking and yelling frantically.
“Gosh ter mighty,” exclaimed Reuben, who was by this time on his feet,
“the old man fired both barrels of his scatter gun ter oncet.”
“Up we go!” cried Jack, and almost simultaneously, with his
exclamation, the Electric Monarch shot up toward the star-sprinkled sky
at an angle that almost sent Reuben into hysterics.
“Hey, stop this flying threshing machine,” he yelled, “lemme out!
Lemme----”
Tom placed a hand over the frightened farm hand’s mouth.
“You want to get to Portstown, don’t you?”
“Yer--yer--yes, sir.
“Well, you’re going there by the air-line express. Now be quiet. Heiny,
for goodness sake, cook us up some supper, and look lively about
it,--we’re almost famished.”
* * * * *
The next morning will be one long remembered in Portstown. Early rising
citizens saw, swooping down from the skies, a vast aerial craft manned
by a crew of youths anxiously looking over the side to descry the best
landing place. They had arrived above the town shortly before daylight
but Jack had decided to cruise about till the light grew stronger, not
wishing to risk a landing in the dark. He adopted, in fact, the same
tactics that the captain of a vessel about to enter a strange port
would employ.
By the time the Electric Monarch swooped down into the twenty-acre park
in which the fair was to be held, there was a crowd of several hundred
people in the streets clamoring about the entrance to the fenced
grounds. The Electric Monarch was actually a fact, a circumstance
which was astonishing to a good many of the Portstown folks who had
thought that Captain Sprowl’s flowery advertisement was a good deal in
the nature of an exaggeration. But now they had seen, with their own
eyes, the most wonderful craft of its kind in existence, and the whole
town was wild with excitement and curiosity.
Early as the hour was, Captain Sprowl, who had been on the lookout for
the boys, soon came dashing into the grounds in a runabout automobile.
He extended them a hearty welcome and showed them where they would be
quartered during the carnival, that is, if they wished to camp on the
grounds. The boys unanimously voted in favor of the camping proposal.
They decided that it would be much more fun than stopping at a hotel.
They accompanied the captain to the hotel for breakfast, however,
a big crowd following them through the streets, much to the boys’
embarrassment. The captain, however, gloried in the notoriety.
“It shows what good advertising will do,” he said, glowing with pride,
as he escorted his young charges through the streets. Reuben did not
accompany them. He had gone out to find his brother-in-law. In the
meantime the captain, at the boys’ solicitation, had promised to get
him a job on the fair grounds if he did not find employment at anything
else, an offer which Reuben subsequently accepted.
Breakfast was a merry meal, and the boys had much to tell of their
experiences on the trip. After they had finished, they returned to
the fair grounds and were shown round by the captain. Several of the
aviators who were to take part in the carnival had already arrived and
erected their tents with gay festoons of bunting floating over them.
The boys were much disappointed, however, to learn that an air craft
they had been most anxious to see was not yet on the grounds. This was
the celebrated Sky Eagle, a big dirigible, equipped with wireless and
one of the first aërial craft to be so fitted. The captain told them
that the dirigible was on the way, however, and was expected ere long
on the grounds.
“Have you been notified by them, then?” asked Jack, rather puzzled as
to how the captain could have such information.
“Yes, they sent us a message by wireless not long since that they
expected to arrive to-day.”
“Then there is a wireless plant in the town?” asked Tom, somewhat
surprised.
“There’s one right on the grounds,” rejoined the captain, “it’s one of
the exhibits. See the aërials over yonder?”
Sure enough, in one corner of the grounds the spider-like strands of
a vertical aërial mast could be seen leading into a hut about which a
small crowd was clustered. The captain explained that the operator of
the plant was even then trying to locate the Sky Eagle. He had hardly
finished explaining this when a boy came rushing out of the wireless
hut in hot haste.
“There’s a messenger now. Maybe he’s looking for me!” cried the
captain. “Hey, boy!”
The boy turned and came running toward them.
“I was just looking for you, Captain,” he said. “Hutchings, the
operator, wants to see you.”
“News from the Sky Eagle?” asked the captain.
“I don’t know, but he said it was important.”
The boys hurried after the captain to the wireless hut. Inside they
found Hutchings, the operator, greatly excited.
“Bad news for you, Captain,” he said, holding out a yellow sheet of
paper, “a message from the Sky Eagle. She is disabled and drifting out
to sea.”
“By the trident of Neptune!” exclaimed the captain, scanning the
message, “this is bad.”
He read the message aloud:
“On Board Sky Eagle.--We are disabled. Drifting out to sea off
Scatiute. Send help.--Jennings, operator.”