NODDY’S PLOT
Instantly there was a commotion aboard the _Comet_. The boys started
to their feet, and with fear in their eyes looked forward to where Mr.
Glassford stood in the small pilot house. The airship continued to
descend, but not so rapidly as before.
“Are we--is there any danger?” cried Jerry. “Shall I let go some of the
ballast?”
“Not a bagful,” replied the inventor calmly. “Nothing has happened.
One of the chains operating the propellers has broken, and I stopped
the motor before it could get tangled in the wheels. Then I let out
a little gas to bring us down. We must make a descent, but there is
nothing serious the matter. I can fix it in half an hour, and we can go
up again.”
“I thought some one had shot a hole in the gas bag,” remarked Bob.
“Some one was certainly shooting at us,” added Ned. “Look down there.
Something is the matter.”
There did appear to be some trouble in that portion of the throng
directly below the motor ship. Men were running about, and loud shouts
continued to be heard.
“Maybe they’re afraid we’re falling,” ventured Jerry.
“Perhaps,” said Mr. Glassford. “I shall have to let a little more gas
out. I used a rather strong mixture. But I think I can get down now by
using the depression rudder and shifting the planes. That will save the
gas.”
“It doesn’t seem right that any one should shoot at us,” said Professor
Snodgrass calmly, as if such a proceeding was even permissible.
“Well, I should say not!” exclaimed Jerry. “If I find out who it was
I’ll make him sorry for it!”
“I think I can almost guess who it was,” said Bob.
“You mean Noddy Nixon?” asked Ned, and the stout youth nodded an assent.
Professor Snodgrass was the calmest person aboard the motor ship. The
little accident had more or less affected Mr. Glassford and the boys,
and the sound of bullets flying uncomfortably close to the big gas bag
had not decreased their nervousness. But the professor continued to
survey the surrounding atmosphere in search of new kinds of insects.
Mr. Glassford had shut the gas outlet and had so tilted the planes and
rudder that the big ship was approaching the earth on a slant, not
making very rapid progress.
“We’ll land as gently as a feather,” prophesied Bob as he looked over
the side.
“That’s my intention,” replied Mr. Glassford with a smile. “It doesn’t
do to come down with a thump, you know. An airship, at best, as yet,
is rather a delicate piece of machinery. I am sorry this accident
happened, but it is better to discover the defects now than later.”
The _Comet_ was soon resting on the ground, ready hands catching hold
of the retaining ropes and making them fast to stakes driven into the
earth for that purpose, while bags of sand, that had been detached when
the ascent was made, were again fastened on to make up for the weight
of the travelers, who alighted amid the cheers of the throng.
“Well, ye done it, all right,” cried an old man, as he tried to shake
hands with Mr. Glassford, the boys and Professor Snodgrass all at the
same time. “Land o’ Goshen, but ye done it! I never thought ye would.”
“Yes, we made a fairly successful flight,” replied Mr. Glassford. “But
for a slight accident we would have stayed up much longer.”
“An accident!” exclaimed a tall youth, stepping forward. “Tell me about
it, please. I’m a reporter from the Boston _Globe_, sent out here to
get an account of this.”
“One of the propeller transmission chains broke,” said Mr. Glassford,
and he proceeded to explain to the newspaper man what had happened.
Meanwhile, the motor boys were surrounded by an admiring throng. Some
of their young acquaintances clearly regarded them as heroes of the
very highest type. The boys’ parents were amid the throng, but as soon
as they learned that everything had gone off comparatively safely, they
departed, for the crowd was increasing all the while.
Andy Rush pushed his way through the press of people and called to
Jerry:
“Did any of the shot hit you?”
“Shot? Then some one was firing at us!” exclaimed Jerry. “Who was it,
Andy?”
“Noddy Nixon!” replied the small chap. “He had a big airgun, and when
you got up in the air he hid behind a tree and popped at you. I saw
him, and I told him I’d tell you. Did he hit you?”
“No, but he came near it. Where is he?”
“Over there somewhere, I guess,” and Andy pointed to a clump of trees.
“I’ll settle his hash!” exclaimed Jerry, righteously wrathful. “Come
on, fellows.”
Professor Snodgrass had seen a new kind of bug as soon as he alighted
from the car, and he was oblivious to everything else. Mr. Glassford
was talking to the reporter, and in the eagerness to see the motor ship
no one paid much attention to the three lads, who, led by Andy, started
off to find the bully.
They caught sight of Noddy standing behind a big tree, and before he
realized it the motor boys had surrounded him.
“Look here!” cried Jerry, “why did you shoot at us?”
“I didn’t shoot at you.”
“You did so!” cried Andy. “I saw you!”
“Aw, dry up!” exclaimed Noddy. “How could I shoot? I ain’t got no gun.”
“You haven’t, eh? What’s this?” asked Ned, suddenly pushing Noddy to
one side and disclosing the fact that a powerful air-rifle was standing
upright between the bully and the tree. Noddy had hoped that it would
not be seen, as, after his dastardly trick, he had not dared to leave
the grounds carrying the weapon.
For an instant following the discovery Noddy did not know what to say.
Then he blurted out:
“That isn’t mine! I didn’t do any shooting with it.”
Jerry, who was standing near the bully, caught hold of his hand. The
fingers were black.
“I guess that’s evidence enough,” he said quietly. “Your hands are all
black from handling lead shot, Noddy. We’ve got you with the goods!”
“And I saw him shoot,” went on Andy. “I saw him aiming at you, and I
yelled at him, but he wouldn’t stop. He fired a couple of times, and I
was just going after a constable to arrest him, when something seemed
to happen to the airship, and the crowd began to yell. I thought sure
he’d put a hole in you.”
Jerry’s face showed the anger he felt. The other boys, too, looked as
if they would like to thrash Noddy.
“I--I didn’t mean to shoot at you,” whined the bully, seeing that he
was fairly cornered. “I was shooting at some birds and--and--maybe the
bullets went too close to you.”
“I should think they did go too close,” commented Ned. “You ought to be
arrested for this.”
“What did he do?” asked one of several men, who had approached the
group of lads.
“He tried to puncture the balloon bag with his airgun, that’s what he
did,” declared Andy. “I saw him. He’s mad because this airship works,
and his tin fly didn’t.”
“He ought to be sent to jail,” declared one of the men, a long-time
resident of Cresville. “It’s a disgrace to the community to have such a
fellow in it. Instead of feeling jealous that this ship worked he ought
to be proud of the distinction that has come to our town. Where’s a
constable? We’ll have him arrested!”
“Don’t any of you try to arrest me!” cried Noddy savagely. “I’ll shoot
any one who touches me,” and he caught up his air-rifle.
His threat was mere bravado, for he was too great a coward to attempt
any such thing as that. But no one liked to run the risk of the gun
going off, perhaps accidentally, in the hands of the now thoroughly
frightened youth. So they made no move to molest him as he sneaked away.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” cried the man who had championed
the cause of the motor boys. “If I see you around here when any more
tests are going on I’ll take you to the lockup myself.”
“I wanted to get him arrested when I first saw what he was up to,” went
on Andy, “but when I yelled to the crowd about what he was doing, every
one was so excited about you sailing along in the air that I couldn’t
make myself understood.”
“I guess the crowd wasn’t to blame, for if you talked as fast as you
usually do when you’re excited they couldn’t make head or tail of what
you said. But you’re all right, Andy, even if you do use a little too
much gasolene once in a while. We’re much obliged to you. You can take
a trip with us next time.”
“Can I, really? That’s the stuff--up in the air--among the clouds--beat
the birds--sail with the wind--down again--up once more--over the
hills----”
“Cut it out!” cried Ned. “You’ve done enough for one day, Andy. Now,
boys, let’s go back and see how Mr. Glassford is making out.”
They found the inventor finishing his interview with the reporter, and
soon the motor ship was back in the tent, from which the crowd was
excluded.
Meanwhile, Noddy Nixon, filled with unreasoning wrath, both at the
success of his rivals and over the fact that he had been discovered
in his mean trick, was walking slowly through the fields, carrying
his airgun. He did not notice a man approaching him, and was somewhat
startled when the stranger remarked:
“Didn’t I see you shooting at the airship?”
“N-no--I--I wasn’t shooting,” stammered Noddy, thinking the man was a
constable sent after him.
“Oh, yes, you were,” went on the man quietly. “I saw you,” and he
seemed so positive that Noddy did not deny it again. “But don’t worry,”
the stranger continued. “I’m not going to inform on you. I presume you
must have had some motive in trying to puncture the gas bag.”
“I hate those fellows!” burst out Noddy. “They’re enemies of mine, and
are always making trouble for me,” which was very far from the truth,
as you readers who know Noddy of old can testify.
“Ah, then you haven’t any love for them,” went on the man.
“I guess not.”
“I haven’t, either,” spoke the man vindictively.
“Why, do you know the motor boys?”
“No, but I have a very good reason to know that fellow Glassford,
and, while of course I wouldn’t want to see him or the boys hurt, I’d
like to get even with him for what he did to me. That’s why I was
interested in your attempt to put a hole in the gas bag.”
“I wish I had,” muttered Noddy.
“So do I. But maybe we can get square with him in another way.”
“How do you mean? What have you got against him?”
“Plenty. I used to work for Glassford, but he discharged me after
stealing my plans for the airship--this same ship he sailed in to-day.”
“Was that ship built on your plans?” asked Noddy quickly.
“It certainly was. I am the inventor of it, not Glassford. My name is
Giles Hoswell.”
“Why don’t you sue him and make him give you back the plans?”
“Because I can’t afford it. I am a poor man, and he evidently has
plenty of money.”
“Not much. Jerry Hopkins and his chums furnished the cash to build this
airship.”
“Yes, on my plans,” went on Hoswell bitterly.
“Would you like to get your plans back?” asked Noddy.
“Of course, but what’s the use talking about that? I don’t stand any
chance. I haven’t any money.”
“Can you prove that those plans are yours?”
“I certainly can.”
“And if you could, do you suppose you could make him give up the
airship?”
“I think so. But why do you ask?”
“Because I’m going to help you get your plans back and take the ship
away from them!” exclaimed Noddy. “My father has plenty of money, and
I know he’ll aid you. Come with me. I’ll get even with the motor boys
this time, I guess.” And chuckling with evil glee, Noddy led his new
acquaintance over the fields.