THE FIVE HUNDRED DOLLAR PRIZE
“The _Dart_ is a beauty! I’d like to meet that ingenious father of
yours, Ben!”
“He would feel honored to know you, I am sure, Mr. Davis.”
“Just as soon as this meet is over, I am going to get him to build me
a new airship modeled after the _Dart_. It’s the best machine I have
yet seen.”
“You will have to deal with the Diebold people, then, Mr. Davis,”
advised Ben. “They have gone into the airship business, and father is
superintendent of that department of their plant.”
“Well, I’ll have to be contented with his supervision,” observed
the old aviator. “I would a good deal rather pay him for special
individual service.”
“That would be pretty difficult for the present. My father is putting
in all his spare time at home on what he calls an Airatorium.”
“And what is that, Ben?” inquired Mr. Davis with interest.
“A safe, substantial airship for sick people—a sort of an aerial
hospital. His idea is to construct a machine that will take invalids
up into perfect sunshine, pure air and exhilarating calmness.”
“I see—a grand idea.”
“Father says that light at high elevations is richer in ultra violet
rays.”
“Say, you’re some scientist, aren’t you?” put in Bob Dallow.
“I’ll give you some more,” laughed Ben: “You get out of the bacterial
effect in the upper air currents.”
“Well, I’ll have a talk with Mr. Hardy after we’ve won the high
flight and long distance prizes,” observed Mr. Davis.
“Oh, you are going to win both of them, are you?” chuckled Bob.
“I said ‘we,’” corrected Mr. Davis, with a quick glance at Ben. “I
have made my record on the elevation feature. What do you say, Ben,
to taking my place and seeing what the _Dart_ can do?”
“Oh!” exclaimed Ben, “you don’t mean it?”
“I do, and you shall,” replied the old aviator promptly. “It’s your
heart’s desire—eh? And you would like to get that five hundred dollar
prize to help your father carry on his suit against Saxton.”
“I say, Bob,” cried Ben quickly, “you have been telling secrets out
of school.”
“I am glad he did, for I am interested in both you and your father,”
spoke up the aviator. “Your ambition is most laudable. I have entered
the _Dart_ for the race to-morrow, and I fully expect you will get
ready for it.”
Ben was once more at the aviation field at Blairville and the _Dart_
was with him. That splendid little machine had arrived from Woodville
the day previous.
Two weeks had been devoted to its completion, and a perfect monoplane
was the result. It had many new features that evoked the interest and
admiration of some of the leading aviators at the meet.
Mr. Hardy and Caleb Dunn had accepted excellent positions at
Martinville. Tom Shallock had carried out his boasts. He was now head
machinist at the Saxton Automobile Works. A week after he had taken
charge three men left the Saxton employ, and Ben heard incidentally
that Shallock had become generally disliked by his fellow employees
and was under the influence of liquor most of the time.
It was said that Saxton nearly had a fit when he found out how his
evil plots had been circumvented by the Hardys in securing the
airship patents first. Saxton troubled them no further. The report
that Mr. Hardy had been guilty of stealing found few believers. One
day Ben met the big manufacturer skulking down the street, as if he
feared every minute being served with the papers by lawyer Pearsons.
When Ben made his second visit to the aviation field, he found Dick
Farrell still in the employ of Rollins. Ben always spoke pleasantly
to Dick, but the latter greeted this courtesy with a sullen nod only.
There was a vindictive look in Farrell’s eye that Ben distrusted
fully.
Several times Ben went into Blairville and finally located the home
of Knippel. This man lived in a retired cottage, had a small family
who associated with no one in the village, and he was considered to
follow some mysterious business that took him away from home most of
the time.
Now Ben’s thoughts were so completely on aviation and all of its
alluring features, that he forgot all his past trouble and present
complications.
That day he had made several trial flights. He had the advantage of
the experience and direction of Mr. Davis and Bob. He understood the
_Dart_ perfectly. Ben could hardly sleep for excitement that night,
and he and Bob were among the earliest arrivals on the aviation field
next morning.
The day was warm and still, but there were lowering clouds. After
a critical decision as to weather conditions, Mr. Davis told Ben
that the same were not very favorable for either a high or a rapid
flight. Eight biplanes and four monoplanes were to take part in
the test. Ben chose his own course away from the others. Bob, after
urging up the _Dart_, uttered an enthusiastic hurrah as he noted the
splendid start his friend had made.
The _Dart_ was soon out of sight, the heavy layer of surface clouds
obscuring its progress. Ben started in on a spiral flight. As he
struck a second strata of clouds, he encountered some strong cross
currents of air.
“It’s getting choppy,” ruminated the young aviator, and he arranged
so he could lower the front control of the machine readily in case of
a sudden gust.
It began to get chilly and uncomfortable as he struck a higher
altitude. His leather suit was none too warm for him and splatters of
moisture clouded the goggles he wore.
Ben bent himself to his work like a trained pilot. There were places
where great banks of cloud enveloped him. He drove the monoplane
through these like a torpedo boat thrusting its way through an
opposing wave.
“Brr-rr!” he shivered, as an icy gale made the planes bend and
rattle, and he felt himself becoming benumbed by the cold.
The highly rarefied air began now to affect heart and brain. Only by
conserving his breath could Ben refrain from gasping outright.
“What is that?” he exclaimed, as a grinding, wrenching motion shook
the machine.
It was an accumulation of ice on the planes of the airship. Icicles
fell into the machinery, threatening to stop the motor.
“I’ve reached the limit, I guess,” decided Ben, dizzy-headed and half
frozen.
A storm of hail cut against him as he made a full one mile glide.
Then strata after strata of clouds were penetrated. A blurred
landscape and dim outlines of houses and trees gradually came into
view. When Ben alighted, both he and the aeroplane were coated with
ice.
He had to be helped from the machine, but, benumbed as he was with
the cold, he was conscious of ringing cheers all about the aviation
field.
Mr. Davis carried the barograph from the machine to the judges’
stand. Bob and some others led and carried Ben to the quarters of the
_Flyer_.
Ben found it supreme luxury to repose on a couch. His lungs pained
him, and he was so exhausted he dropped into profound sleep at once.
His next conscious moment was a recognition of the voice of Mr.
Davis, saying:
“Let him sleep, he needs it.”
“But—such glorious news!” cried the tones of Bob Dallow.
“I am awake,” declared Ben, opening his eyes and sitting up. “What’s
the glorious news?”
“Why,” said Mr. Davis with a beaming face, “the barograph says you
have beaten the _Flyer_ altitude record by three hundred feet. Hardy,
you have won the five hundred dollar prize.”