CHAPTER VIII—THE BRONCHO BUSTER MEETS HIS MATCH

Such a busy day as they put in.

It was hard for the foreman to influence the cow-punchers to look

after their customary avocations, for they wanted to be hanging

around that hangar all the time, watching Frank and Andy assemble

the various queer parts of the delicate contraption that, when

completed would be called a biplane.

The idea that any one would dare trust himself in such a little

contrivance, and soar like the white-headed eagle away up above the

clouds, staggered the belief of these fellows; all of whom wanted to

be “shown” before they would be willing to admit that such a

wonderful thing could ever come to pass.

They looked on the Bird boys with almost reverence. Such pluck and

daring outdistanced their own reckless horseback plunging as far as

the sun outshines the yellow moon.

Some of them tried their very best to make themselves useful, and

even pleaded with the boys to think up some way in which they could

“run and fetch,” so that the foreman would excuse them from going

out on the range after stray mavericks, or rounding up bunches of

cattle that may have strayed toward the dangerous coulies of the

mountains, where all sorts of danger would await them.

But as they needed no assistance whatever, Frank had to shake his

head, even to the persistent Buckskin, for he knew that if he

favored one it would create bad feeling among the rest and this was

something to be avoided, so early in their acquaintance with these

warm-hearted but impulsive cattle punchers.

When noon came the aeroplane was taking shape, and beginning to look

like something. A little help was needed when it came to installing

the motive power; but there was plenty to be had; in a pinch even

the grinning Charley Woo would have been willing to lend a hand;

although he had privately announced it as his opinion that if this

wonderful affair, that looked so much like the big box-kites flown

in his native country, could sail away above the clouds, they would

never set eyes on the two bold young navigators again; and he also

said that Mr. Witherspoon ought to keep control of the flying

machine by means of a rope, so that he could pull it down when he

thought best.

It was really wonderful how quickly all the boys got through with

their jobs on this particular day. Where under ordinary conditions

they would not have shown up at the ranch house until evening, they

now came galloping in like mad by two o’clock, and before three had

arrived not a single puncher was out on the range.

Mr. Witherspoon smiled and nodded his head good-naturedly when he

noticed this significant fact.

“Already your coming has borne fruit, you see,” he remarked to

Frank; “and if it keeps up we’re going to have the greatest lot of

hustlers here at the Double X Ranch you ever heard tell of. They can

do things like lightning these days. And look at the way they hang

around, just devouring both of you boys with stares. I guess you’ve

got them locoed for a fact,” and when Frank, who wanted to know what

everything meant, stopped him right there to ask for an explanation,

the obliging rancher told how there was a certain weed known as the

loco, which, when cattle indulged in it, made them crazy for a time,

so that they were apt to rush into streams and be drowned, or pitch

pell mell over precipices in their blindness and excitement.

About four o’clock Frank announced that everything was ready for the

first ascent and the feverish punchers could hardly contain

themselves. It needed only a word to get them to do anything that

was required; for the time being they were ready to act as slaves,

if by so doing they could hasten developments.

There was a splendid level stretch upon which the first run could be

made; indeed, that was one beauty of aeroplaning on the plains,

where difficulties would not be met with in landing, or making an

ascent.

Frank gave the signal, and willing hands assisted in starting the

strange affair with its box-like wings. Charley Woo hid behind a

pile of crate material as though really fearing that the spirits of

the air might be offended by this bold invasion, and start to visit

their vengeance on the whole lot who had assisted in the work.

But the cowboys jumped for their horses, and mounting like a flash,

started to gallop after the young aviators, fully expecting that

they would have the mournful office of gathering up their remains,

and transporting them back to the ranch house.

Judge of their astonishment and wild delight when they saw the

aeroplane leave the earth, take a turn upward when the forward plane

was elevated, and start in the direction of the few fleecy, floating

white clouds that hovered overhead.

How they yelled and shrieked and pranced about as though they had

really and truly lost their heads. And then, gathering in a bunch

they watched the wonderful evolutions which those skilful air pilots

put their willing steed through, as thoroughly entranced as though

they had been put under the magic power of a wizard.

Frank was not taking unnecessary chances. He wanted to know the

conditions of this new country before attempting any of the more

difficult maneuvers which he and Andy were accustomed to carrying

out in their home circles, where they understood the wind and its

peculiarities to a dot.

But the most simple trick was greeted with hoarse shouts by that

cluster of eager watchers below. And when the young aviators began

to bore up and up in circle until they were fully six thousand feet

high, the amazed and delighted spectators almost broke their necks

staring after them, afraid lest they miss a part of the spectacle if

they so much as turned away for a single instant.

Then again they came circling down in great loops, while the little

gathering near the ranch house stood and gaped and wondered if they

were really awake, or passing through a vivid dream of enchantment.

The conditions being favorable, Frank gave his companion due warning

as to what he was about to do, and then started to volplane

downward. Immediately cries of horror broke out from those intrepid

range riders, who naturally believed something must have broken

aboard the aeroplane, and that the Bird Boys were now being hurled

to earth, from which they would later on be picked up lifeless.

When they saw the flying machine suddenly recover a level position,

and with the merry hum of the motor start again to spin along, about

two hundred feet above their heads, the punchers fell into each

others’ arms, as though too weak to stand up any longer.

Shortly afterwards Frank brought his aerial steed to a landing just

at the very point where he had taken his departure half an hour

before; and so lightly did the heavier-than-air machine settle that

it seemed as though an egg could hardly have been broken by the

impact, had it come between.

They were immediately overwhelmed with warm congratulations because

of the marvelous work they had done while aloft. It had been only

the common, every-day experience of Frank and Andy; but in the eyes

of these untamed Western spirits was wonderful beyond compare.

“Here’s Buckskin been boasting that if you boys could go up, he

guessed he could too. Take him for a little airing, Frank. Let him

make good, or shut up!” one of the cowboys exclaimed.

“Would you like to try a little spin, Buckskin; Andy here will make

way for you if you say the word?” Frank asked.

Now, the aforesaid Buckskin would have instantly declined but they

had him in a hole, where he must take water, or else put on a bold

front. And as a cowboy invariably hates to back down, once he has

made his boast, he tried to look quite indifferent as he replied:

“Sure I’d like to take a little turn of a dozen miles or two with

you, Frank, if you’ll ask me. I ain’t had no experience in ridin’

one of them cantankerous mounts; but they can’t find a broncho able

to throw me; and who’s afraid, anyhow? Tell me what to do, and show

me how to do it, and I’m there all to the good, and wool a yard

wide.”

So Andy climbed down, and the cowboy, sheepskin chaps and all, took

his place. He made out to be utterly at his ease; and it was only

Frank who knew from personal contact just how Buckskin was trembling

all the while.

“All you have to do is to sit perfectly still; and don’t offer to do

anything to help me. If I want any assistance I’ll sing out for it,”

was the way the pilot of the biplane laid down the law; and Buckskin

promised faithfully that he would adhere to the rules of the game to

the letter.

The start was made just as perfectly as before, and then Frank began

to perform a number of simple evolutions before making a try for

altitude.

The dazed cowboy may have had a smile on his face all the while, but

it was of the kind that won’t come off, virtually frozen there. He

clutched the seat with rigid fingers, and stared out straight to

where in the distance he could see the summit of Mount Baker, said

to be seven thousand feet high, but which he believed was far below

his lofty eyrie.

Once, when he did catch faint yells from the crowd so far below him,

Buckskin mustered up assurance enough to take off his hat, and wave

it several times; but never once would he look straight down toward

where the others were cheering him to the echo. When finally, after

a whole lot of turning, until his senses fairly reeled, he heard

Frank say that they were nearly through, the scared cowboy regained

courage enough to send a sickly grin down at his comrades. Of course

Frank would not think of volplaning with a greenhorn aboard, as the

chances were, he would take fright and either leap out under the

impression that they were bound to have a smash-up anyhow, or else

make some frantic move that would endanger the very lives of both

occupants of the biplane.

And so they landed as neatly as any pilot of an air craft could

possibly do. The relieved Buckskin almost dazed, managed to drop

from his perch, his hands to be warmly shaken by his chums, while

they assured him that he had done the whole outfit proud by his

recent gallant act.

But it might have been noticed that Buckskin never again ventured to

accompany either one of the Bird boys aloft. He vowed that it was

the finest experience he had ever known, and one that he would not

have missed for a fortune; but all the same, he knew when he had had

enough; and the other fellows could try their hands at copying the

old eagle, if they wished; the land was good enough for him, all

right. After the business of the day had been completed the

aeroplane was once more successfully stowed away in its handy

hangar, which was amply large enough to accommodate it even when the

planes were extended.

It was just at this time Mr. Witherspoon beckoned Frank and Andy to

cross over to where he was standing, having come out of the house.

“Please give me a few minutes of your time, boys,” he said gravely,

“something has happened since you went up that seems to possibly

throw a light on what happened last night,” and a minute later, as

the three sat down in his little office or den, the genial rancher

went on to remark, “tell me, was the name of that evil genius of

yours, who tried all he could to injure you two, Percy Carberry, or

something like that?”

The Bird Boys' Aeroplane Wonder; Or, Young Aviators on a Cattle Ranch · 第 8 / 23 章