THE MOONSHINERS AND THE AËROPLANE.
"This is a beautiful country, sis."
"Yes, indeed," agreed Peggy warmly.
The two were flying high above the romantic scenery of the Big Smoke
Mountains of North Carolina in the _Golden Butterfly_. Beneath them lay
a wild-looking expanse of country,--peaks, deep cañons and cliffs
heavily wooded and here and there bare patches cropping out.
"Let's drop down on one of those patches and do some exploring,"
suggested Peggy.
"All right," agreed Roy, nothing loath. The _Golden Butterfly_ was
headed downward.
In a few minutes they landed on a smooth spot surrounded by trees.
Leaving the aëroplane, they struck off on a path through the woods.
"Wonder if we can't find some huckleberries hereabouts," suggested Roy.
"Oh, yes, lots. Wouldn't it be dandy to take home a bucketful by
aëroplane!"
"There's a little hut off yonder, maybe we could get a bucket or
something there."
"Let's see if there are any berries first," said the practical Peggy.
From out of the hut shuffled an old woman. She was a wrinkled and
hideous old hag, brown as a seasoned meerschaum pipe and in her mouth
was a reeking corn cob.
Her feet were bare, and altogether she was a most repulsive old crone.
She saw Roy and Peggy almost as soon as they saw her. For an instant she
stood looking at them and then raised her voice in a sort of shrill
shriek.
Instantly from the woods around several men appeared--wild-looking,
bearded fellows, each of whom carried a rifle.
"What you alls want hyar?" demanded one who seemed to be the leader.
"We were just taking a walk," explained Roy.
"Wa'al, we all don't like strangers particlar."
"So it would seem," rejoined Roy, with a bold voice, although his heart
was beating rather fast.
"How'd you alls get hyar?" was the next question from the inquisitor.
"We flew here," rejoined Roy truthfully.
But the man's face grew black with wrath.
"Don' you alls lie to me; it ain't healthy," he said.
"I'm not in the habit of doing so."
"But you said you flew hyar."
"Well, we did."
"See hyar, young stranger, you jes' tell me the truth 'bout how you came
or by the eternal I'll make it hot fer you."
"I can only show you that I'm speaking nothing but the truth," rejoined
the boy; "if you'll come with me I'll show you what we flew here in."
The man glanced at him suspiciously. It was plain that he feared a trap
of some sort. His eyes were wild and shifty as a wolf's.
"Ain't you frum the guv-ment?" he asked.
"I don't know just what you mean."
"I reckin that's jus' more dum' lyin'."
"Thank you."
"Don' get sassy, young feller, it won't do you no good. But I'll come
with you. Come on, boys, we'll take a look at this flyin' thing. I
reckon that even if it is a trap there's enough of us to take care of a
pack of them."
"That's right, Jeb," agreed the men.
Some of them, who had been hanging back in the bushes, now came forward.
They were all as wild-looking as their leader, Jeb. The old woman
mumbled and talked to herself as they strode off behind Roy and Peggy.
It was one of the strangest adventures of their lives and neither one of
them could hit on any explanation of the hillmen's conduct.
It did not take long to reach the aëroplane, and Roy turned triumphantly
to Jeb.
"Well," he said, "what do you think now?"
"Wa'al, it ain't flyin', is it?"
"Of course not, but I can make it."
"You kin?"
"Certainly."
"Flap its wings and all that like a burd?"
"No, it doesn't flap its wings."
"Then how kin it fly?" propounded Jeb.
A murmur of approval ran through the throng. Jeb's logic appealed to
their primitive intellects.
"Nothing can't fly that don't flap its wings," said one of them.
"But if it didn't fly, how in tarnation did it git here?" asked an old
man with a grizzled beard and blackened stumps of teeth projecting from
shrunken gums.
This appeared to be a poser for even Jeb. He had nothing to say.
"If you like I'll give you a ride in it," proffered Roy to Jeb.
"All right; only no monkey tricks now."
"What do you mean?"
"Wa'al, in course I know it won't fly, but if it does you'll hev to let
me out."
With this sage remark Jeb stepped gingerly into the chassis of the
aëroplane. He sat down where he was told and Roy took the wheel. Jeb's
companions gazed on in awed silence.
"Look out, Jeb," cried one.
"Don't hit the sky," yelled another.
"Bring me back a star," howled the facetious old man.
"Me a bit of the moon," called another.
Jeb said nothing to this raillery. Instead, he looked uneasily about him
and held his rifle, which he had insisted on bringing with him, between
his knees.
"All right?" asked Roy, looking back at him.
"As right as I ever will be," rejoined Jeb, with a rather sickly grin.
"You must hold tight," warned Peggy.
"I'm doing that," said Jeb.
And then with the same sickly grin:
"Say, miss, does it really fly?"
"Of course it does. As that old man said, how could it have got here if
it didn't."
"I guess I'd better go home and git my coat," said Jeb, trying to climb
out.
His demeanor had completely changed since he had climbed into the
chassis. Something in its well-cushioned seats and the sight of the
powerful engine and propeller seemed to have changed his mind about
the capabilities of the _Golden Butterfly_.
But it was too late. With a roar the engine started. Instantly the
little plateau was deserted. The mountaineers were all behind trees.
Jeb rushed for the side of the car.
"Sit down!" screeched Peggy, really fearing he would fall over.
But if Jeb's intention had been to climb out it was foiled.
[Illustration: "Take me back to earth er I'll shoot," said a voice in
his ear.]
"Wow!" he yelled, and again, "Wow-ow-ow! Lemme out."
"Too late now," shouted Roy.
The aëroplane shot upward, carrying as a passenger a man temporarily
crazy from fright.
Suddenly Roy felt the muzzle of a rifle press against the back of his
neck.
"Take me back to earth er I'll shoot," said a voice in his ear.
Roy obeyed, and so ended Jeb's first aëroplane ride. It may be added
that it was also his last.