THE BIPLANE IN ACTION.
Harvey Hamilton read the strange “Warning” twice through, by which
time every sentence and word were imbedded in his memory. I am glad to
say that in one respect he showed common sense: he did not venture a
step farther upon forbidden ground. He was tempted to try the door or
windows or to explore the premises, but the chances were a hundred to
one that Professor Morgan said no more than the simple truth in the
pencilled notice tacked upon the oaken door of the cabin.
Possibly it was a violation of that law which forbids a person to use a
trap gun in guarding his property against burglars, but if so, the fact
itself remained. The person who attempted to force an entrance would
undoubtedly run into some infernal contrivance that would instantly
blot him out of existence. Consequently, instead of advancing, the
youth withdrew several paces where he knew he was safe. He was still
near enough to read the ominous words had it been necessary, but he
could not forget them.
During the brief while in which he thought upon their meaning, Harvey
did a bit of reasoning that would have been a credit to Detective
Simmons Pendar himself.
“That notice is meant for _me_. The Professor learned last night that
I was at the hotel and he needed no one to tell him my business. The
closing sentence is intended to check any pursuit by me. His statement
that he has started for a distant country to be gone several weeks is
also a bit of information for my exclusive benefit. He doesn’t name
Africa, but that is the destination in his mind.
“Why didn’t he take Bunk to the hotel for his meals? Evidently he
feared to trust him, suspecting he would write to me, as the Professor
may have learned he had already done. Although Ann did not tell me
and likely did not know it, he has brought the necessary food to this
place. He forbade Bunk to stray from the cabin, and the fellow was
so scared by the words and manner of the Professor that he dared not
disobey him.
“Why is he so resolute that I shall not prevent Bunk from going on a
trip which only the brain of a lunatic could originate? Bunk, in his
first feeling of resentment toward me, won the sympathy of this strange
person, who, as Detective Pendar said, saw how useful my friend would
be as his assistant. Had Bunk wished to leave him at the beginning of
their venture, the Professor might have consented, but the poor lad
is as eager as he for the trip. The inventor is angered against me
because I am trying to interfere, and is resolute I shall not succeed.
His disordered brain has settled into an iron resolve that I shall be
defeated at every cost. Until I can bring about some understanding with
Bunk and make an ally of him, I have the biggest kind of a job on my
hands, but with the help of Heaven it shall be pushed through to the
end.”
One phase of the situation gave Harvey a new thrill of hope. Professor
Morgan on his visit to the hotel the night before must have learned
that the young aviator had come to Dawson by train and stage, leaving
his aeroplane behind. Naturally he would conclude that his pursuer
meant to make no further use of the machine. Harvey’s manifest course
therefore was to turn to his aerocar to solve the problem.
“I shall go home as fast as steam can carry me and return faster than
it can bring me to this point and it will then be do or die.”
The perplexing problem was to guess what course the crazy inventor
would follow from that morning when he, with Bunk as his companion, had
sailed into the northern skies. Was he really heading for Quebec or
some distant point that would shorten the distance across the Atlantic,
with the purpose of striking out upon his crazy venture, or was he
subjecting his machine to a crucial test before doing so?
Whatever might be the intention of Professor Morgan, it was evident
that he could not escape that test, for previous to plunging into
the aerial ocean to the eastward, he must sail for hundreds of miles
over the New York wilderness and the solitudes of Canada, so far from
cities, towns and settlements that if any accident befell the monoplane
it would mean the end of the aviator and his companion. If perchance
the long voyage through the upper air was effected in safety, who
should insist the Professor was not warranted in trying the far grander
one that should land him and his companion in Great Britain on their
road to Africa?
Hopeless as such an attempt must be (at least until the science of
aviation is much further advanced than now), it was as promising as
the effort of Harvey Hamilton, to follow the flying machine by rail,
steamboat, stage, and on foot or horseback. There were vast reaches
over which he would have to travel by roundabout routes and at a
snail’s pace. Using every advantage at command, he could not get to one
of the Canadian cities until at the end of several weeks.
We have no means of knowing what fancies filled the brain of the man
whose powers of reasoning were warped, but who in some directions was
capable of as perfect logic as is ever displayed by the most brilliant
mathematician. The probable conclusion reached by him was that his
pursuer would abandon the unsettled sections of the country and take a
direct course to the leading Canadian seaport, with a view of heading
him off on the assumption that the monoplane would meet with accident
or delays on the way.
It seemed to Harvey that he had other ground--though shadowy--for hope
of tracing the elusive Professor. He would not venture upon his ocean
voyage, as it may be called, until satisfied that his preparations were
complete. He had spoken only a short time before of his conviction that
they would soon be finished. He was too skilled an aviator to start
for Europe before his machine was ready. The chemical compound which
he had discovered would carry him the greater part of the distance
and it was reasonable to believe he needed a few days in which to
perfect its composition. To effect this he would make excursions
over the surrounding country, returning to his workshop to push his
investigations. It followed that if this theory was correct, he would
stay in the vicinity of Dawson for an indefinite though probably a
brief time. If such proved the fact, Harvey had fair prospect of
success by shaping his own conduct in accordance with such theory.
If I have made clear the conditions which our young friend had to face,
some deception on his part will be justified. As has been said, the
wording of the “Warning” posted on the door of the workshop proved that
the inventor’s real aim was to throw his pursuer off his track and end
pursuit by him. If the Professor could be made to believe he had done
this, he would use all the time necessary to complete his preparations
for his stupendous aerial voyage.
These thoughts filled the brain of Harvey on his return to the
Washington House in the little town of Dawson. Stepping upon the porch
and seeing nothing of the landlord, he passed inside, where he came
upon him seated in his big armchair, slowly puffing his briarwood.
“Will you let me know the amount of my bill?” was the guest’s first
greeting.
It was not necessary for the innkeeper to consult his books, and
without rising from his chair he answered:
“Supper, breakfast and lodging is two dollars.”
Harvey handed him the exact amount, and the landlord folded and tucked
the bill into his waistcoat pocket.
“Going back to New York?” he grunted, disposed to relax now that he was
about to lose a guest.
“I’m going to New Jersey where I live. I walked out to Professor
Morgan’s place, only to find a notice posted on the door to the effect
that he had gone away for several weeks. So what’s the use of my
loitering about here for all that time?”
“What the Professor says you can depend on. If you come back in a
fortnight, you mought git sight of him, but there’s no sense in coming
afore that time.”
“So it would seem. Have you seen anything of him lately?”
“He hasn’t been here for several days and when he does come he has
powerful little to say.”
Harvey did not show that he knew this reply was a falsehood. The
inventor had been in the house the night before and learned of the
presence of the young aviator without his machine. It remained for the
latter to make him think his attempt at deception was successful. What
surer method could there be than the one Harvey was following?
His next inquiry was as to the trains from the railway station at
Beelsburg, a dozen miles away. The stage did not leave until early
in the afternoon and generally an hour’s wait was necessary before a
passenger could start southward. Harvey proposed to hire a conveyance,
which if it made fair progress could intercept a train that passed at
noon. When the landlord named the charge for the services of such a
team, the guest accepted off-hand and hurried to his room to bring down
his traveling bag. He encountered daughter Ann in the hall, to whom
he told his purpose. It was safer not to enlighten her as to his real
intention, since nothing could be gained by doing so and she would be
likely to drop some remark to her “paw” that would disclose Harvey’s
scheme. So with a friendly good-bye, he added to his former tip and
scurried down stairs, where he had to wait only a few minutes when the
open carriage drawn by a gaunt, bony horse drew up and he climbed in.
The driver was a youth of about his own age, and a sort of hostler and
man of all work. Harvey never met a more grouchy person. It was hard to
make him say yes or no to a question, and the passenger gave it up,
after letting him know he was on his way to his own home a good many
miles distant.
None the less, the fellow knew his business and landed his charge at
the station half an hour ahead of train time. Harvey slipped a silver
half dollar into his hand and he did not so much as speak or nod, but
circled around, struck his rangy animal a whack with his splintered
whip and faded from sight in a cloud of dust.
Most of Harvey’s time on his way home was spent in studying an
elaborate map of the Adirondack region, northern New York, and the
lower portion of the Dominion of Canada. His interest in this work and
his retentive memory caused him to absorb knowledge rapidly and soon
he began to feel more familiar with the region than he had believed
possible without months of exploration.
“If I ever get through with this job I think I’ll hire out as a guide
for hunters in the Adirondacks. I’m told some of them are paid big
wages. It’s odd that Dick should be somewhere up there and it will be a
good deal more odd if he and I should meet. I forget what part of the
country he dated his letters from and it isn’t likely he stays long in
one place. Won’t he be astonished if I drop down on him some fine day
from the sky?”
It was on the following afternoon that Harvey Hamilton appeared again
at his home near the village of Mootsport. A disappointment met him. He
expected as a matter of course that his father would be in New York,
but he learned that his mother and sister had accompanied him thither
that morning. Harvey went to the house of Mr. Hartley, but he too was
absent for the day. The caller explained everything to the wife of
the farmer and she promised to transfer the information to the others
that evening. To make sure on this point Harvey wrote a letter to his
parents in which he told all that had occurred with him since his
previous departure. He laid this missive on his fathers table in the
library, said a few parting words to the servants, and then hurried out
to the hangar to bring his aeroplane into service.
“I expect big things of you,” he said as he carefully examined wires,
ribs, engine, ailerons, propeller, rudders and every part down to the
minutest detail. “It won’t do to have any defect, which reminds me.”
He ran to the house again and furnished himself with an outfit of the
most modern fishing tackle.
“There’s no saying when I may need it. If I should be lost in the
Adirondack wilderness, I might have to depend upon what I can take
from the lakes and streams. It won’t do any harm too to add to my
stock of safety matches.”
There was little to make in the way of addition to his former
preparations. The same bag that he had brought home was taken away
swelled to plumpness by indispensable articles, while his extra coat
was folded and tied to the seat, behind him, where it could not be
blown away by any gale or flurry of wind. He did not think it worth
while to ask for help in making a start, for the long sloping meadow
was perfect for that purpose. He followed his old plan of setting the
propeller revolving, when he dashed alongside the moving machine,
slipped into his seat, grasped the levers and was off.
It seems incredible, even with the science of aviation so well
advanced, that starting from northern New Jersey, the young aviator
should reach the Adirondack region before nightfall, but such was the
fact. His first stop was at Poughkeepsie where he renewed his gasoline
and oil, stretched his legs, made another minute examination of his
machine and answered a few of the hundreds of questions that were asked
by the ever-increasing swarm of people that gathered around him. They
were as friendly and good-natured as they had been to Glenn Curtiss,
who made his memorable flight from Albany to New York a short time
before. When Harvey soared aloft once more, he carried with him the
best wishes of the cheering scores whose conduct was in pleasing
contrast to that of the young farmers in eastern Pennsylvania who were
bent on destroying the aeroplane and became angered enough to try to
add the young aviator himself to the wreck and ruin.