AT THE AERO MEET
“Well, Ben, this is life worth living, eh?”
“Bob,” declared Ben enthusiastically, “it’s been the event of my
life.”
“And more to come. We want to make an early start to-morrow. I’ll
show you what real air sailing is then.”
Ben Hardy was, indeed, having the liveliest time in all his youthful
experience. This was his third day at Blairville, and every minute
since his arrival had been packed full of excitement and pleasure.
Mr. Davis had greeted him with a kindly courtesy and attention that
would win the heart of any live, up-to-date boy. The fact that he was
a relative of Bob Dallow had added to the friendly interest of the
aviator. Bob, to use a popular phrase, had made good. He had taken to
practical aeronautics like a duck to water.
[Illustration: IT WAS THE FIRST TIME HE HAD SEEN A REAL AIRSHIP
AFLOAT.]
One week of practice under the direction of the skilled man-bird, Mr.
Davis, had proven that Bob was going to become as good an aviator as
he was an accomplished chauffeur. Mr. Davis had comfortable living
quarters in a building on the aviation field. Ben was invited to
double up with Bob, and they made a happy and a merry team.
The first day had been a bewildering experience of delight and
astonishment for Ben. It was an occasion of experiment and
preparation for trial flights on the morrow. Bob in his lively way
had become a general favorite with the various aeronauts on the
field. He and Ben had free entrance to every tent and aero hangar
in the enclosure. After a while Ben’s interest grew into studious
attention, and that evening he pored industriously over the technical
aviation literature of which Mr. Davis had a surfeit.
The aviator was more than pleased at the real interest displayed
by his willing protégé. Bob Dallow had gratified him with his cool
daring and quick adaptation to his new calling. In Ben, however,
the old aviator discovered more of the scientific and constructive
element. He was kindly disposed, and he seemed decided to give Ben
all the encouragement he could.
The second day was fairly spectacular for our hero. It was the first
time he had seen a real airship afloat. He had already mastered the
mechanism of the aeroplane. Their ready manipulation by the aviators,
however, fairly fascinated him.
It was a famous sight to see a venturesome air sailor start a daring
altitude record in the teeth of a wind blowing twenty miles an hour.
It was like a dream to watch a machine diminish to a mere speck in
the air, and then in a roundabout gyration through several complete
circles, wind up in a sensational glide back to its starting place.
Some of the bird-men went so far and so high that they stiffly
climbed from their machines as they regained _terra firma_. One
monoplane ventured some practicable curves, dashed into a fence and
was demolished. There were many triumphs, but some mishaps as well.
Ben stored a mass of valuable ideas in his mind that stirring day in
his new experience.
Mr. Davis gave the boys a ride in his monoplane, the _Flyer_, the day
following. It was Ben’s first flight. He went through all the thrills
of an initial ascent, but was charmed after the first breathless rush
aloft in the subsequent cavortings of the light and dainty fabric of
wood and canvas.
The present aero meet was simply preliminary to a contest occasion
for prizes two weeks later. A convention at a near city was to
intervene. Until the last of the month the enclosed field would be
simply a practice campus. On the coming Saturday, however, there were
to be some endurance tests which would go far towards deciding the
selection of the best aeroplane on the grounds.
Ben had arranged to wait and see this event. Then he was to return
home. He had freely confessed to Mr. Davis that he intended to go
into building an airship of his own.
It was Wednesday evening when Ben and Bob were discussing “the early
start to-morrow.” Both were looking forward to the ensuing morning
to an event in which they were especially interested. It was to be a
free-for-all occasion. Bob had persuaded Mr. Davis to allow them to
use the _Flyer_, in fact Bob and Ben had made several experimental
flights that afternoon. It had ended in Ben making a suggestion which
set his impulsive chum on fire with expectancy and enthusiasm.
“Keep it to yourself, Ben,” directed Bob, as they went to their
quarters for the night. “We’ll show these aviator-fellows some fancy
work and a novelty feature or two.”
“It will be quite a novelty, I think, yes,” said Ben. “Don’t be too
venturesome, though, Bob.”
“It’s the only way to attract attention and get even a look in at
the prize aero meet,” declared Bob. “I’m a candidate all right, if
they’ll give me a show.”
Ben made a mysterious visit to town late in the afternoon. He
returned in a wagon, the driver of which was directed to deliver a
mysterious load at an old unused shed at an unfrequented part of the
grounds.
Five o’clock the next morning found Ben and Bob arrived at this shed
in sprightly mood. Hauling two long light packages outside of the
structure, they proceeded to unpack them. They brought to light over
two dozen cardboard boxes about a foot square. They had no covers,
and Ben next brought from the shed a bundle of sticks about five feet
long.
“Now then,” said Bob, “got the hammer and tacks?”
“Full supply, Bob,” replied Ben cheerily.
“All right, you sharpen one end of the sticks, and I’ll tack the box
on to the end of them.”
In less than a half an hour the boys had the boxes open depth upwards
mounted on the sticks.
“Now then, to place them,” suggested Ben. “This part of the field
isn’t used much, and we can cover all the space we want.”
They proceeded to set the sticks in the ground at regular intervals,
covering a space over one half a mile in length and extending two
hundred yards from the fence.
“For all the world they look like a lot of bird boxes on a ranch,”
observed Bob. “Just about the right distance apart.”
“Won’t somebody disturb them?” inquired Ben.
“Why should anyone do that? Of course this queer layout will attract
attention. No one will meddle with our little stations, though, for
they will know they must be an equipment for some new experiments.”
The night watchman came forward to meet the boys as Ben emerged from
the shed, a bag slung across his shoulders.
The officer leaned perplexedly on his cane and stood staring
wonderingly at the singular outlay of boxes.
“Hello, Mr. Brown,” hailed Bob heartily. “Thought you had gone home,
and we were stealing a march on you.”
“I’m waiting to be relieved by the day man. He’s a little late on
duty,” explained the watchman. “What’s those boxes?”
“Oh, a big new idea, Mr. Brown,” declared Bob, with a mysterious air.
“No mischief, I hope?”
“Mischief?” repeated Bob with great gravity. “I should say not. If
Ben and I don’t tumble out of the airship, those boxes will comprise
a very original and remarkable experiment in the aviation line.”
“That so?” muttered the watchman in a puzzled way.
“Yes, sir. Say, Mr. Brown, won’t you speak to the day man and have
him keep a sort of watch over the boxes here, so that nobody meddles
with them?”
“I will, if you’ll tell me what you’re up to along with them.”
“That’s a bargain—listen,” said Bob.
“Aha!” exclaimed the watchman, as Bob whispered in his ear. “Well,
you are two originals, and no mistake! I’ll tell my partner.”
“And keep it a secret until the event comes off?”
“Oh, sure—but what will he tell the fellows who will be snooking
around here wanting to know what it all means?”
“Why,” said Bob, “just say—stunts.”
“But they will want to know what kind of stunts.”
“All right,” replied Bob Dallow airily, “tell them we’re going to
make some bomb dropping experiments.”