[Illustration: The biplane made several furious dashes this way and
that, as slants of wind caught her extended planes. [Page 152]
The Bird Boys; or, Young Sky Pilots’ First Air Voyage.]
THE BIRD BOYS
_OR_
_The Young Sky Pilots’ First Air
Voyage_
_By_
JOHN LUTHER LANGWORTHY
[Illustration]
Chicago
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
CANOE AND CAMPFIRE SERIES
Four Books of Woodcraft, and Adventure in the Forest and on the Water,
that every Boy Scout should have in his Library
_By ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE_
CANOEMATES IN CANADA; or, Three Boys Afloat on the Saskatchewan.
THE YOUNG FUR-TAKERS; or, Traps and Trails in the Wilderness.
THE HOUSE-BOAT BOYS; or, Drifting Down to the Sunny South.
CHUMS IN DIXIE; or, The Strange Cruise of a Motor Boat.
In these four delightful volumes the author has drawn bountifully from
his thirty-five years experience as a true sportsman, and lover of
nature, to reveal many of the secrets of the woods, such as all Boy
Scouts strive to know. And, besides, each book is replete with stirring
adventures among the four-footed denizens, of the wilderness; so that
a feast of useful knowledge is served up, with just that class of
stirring incidents so eagerly welcomed by all boys with red blood in
their veins. For sale wherever books are sold, or sent prepaid for 50
cents each by the publishers.
Copyright, 1912, M. A. Donohue & Co.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” 7
II. RIVALS IN THE FIELD 20
III. TRYING OUT THE ENGINE 31
IV. A MIDNIGHT ALARM 42
V. A MESSAGE FROM THE SKY 53
VI. BLOOMSBURY IS BOOKED FOR FAME 64
VII. A SENSATION FOR OLD HOME WEEK 75
VIII. A NOVICE OF THE BIPLANE 86
IX. THE NEWS LARRY BROUGHT 95
X. SIGNS OF TROUBLE 104
XI. THE AEROPLANE THIEVES 113
XII. HELD BACK 122
XIII. THE BIRD BOYS IN LUCK 131
XIV. A GOOD NIGHT’S WORK 140
XV. “IT IS FINE!” 149
XVI. SEVEN TIMES AROUND THE CIRCLE 158
XVII. WHEN THE MONOPLANE FELL 167
XVIII. A SCOUT AND A DISCOVERY 176
XIX. HELPING OUT THE THIEF 187
XX. THE AEROPLANE RACE 196
XXI. HEADED FOR THE SUMMIT OF OLD THUNDER TOP 207
XXII. WELL WON! 218
XXIII. PROVEN GUILTY--CONCLUSION 229
The Bird Boys;
or
The Young Sky Pilots’ First Air Voyage
CHAPTER I.
“BIRDS OF A FEATHER.”
“What are you frowning so much about, Andy?”
“And look at him shake his head, Frank; just for all the world like
he’s gone and lost his best friend!”
“Well, perhaps he has fellows,” laughed Frank Bird, promptly. “At any
rate, my poor cousin’s heart is nearly broken into flinders, just
because he can’t for the life of him remember what he did with that
wonderful little tool he invented.”
“Oh! say, is that what it’s all about?” cried Larry Geohegan; “I guess
now, you mean the handy aluminum monkey wrench that always kept its
jaws locked after you set ’em? Too bad, Andy. Wish you luck in finding
it again.”
“Yes, that’s it, fellows!” exclaimed the sorrowful one, quickly. “Tell
me, have either of you set eyes on the little jewel since--well, say
last Saturday noon?”
“Huh! just why do you go and pick out that day, of all the blessed
week?” demanded “Elephant” Small, a boy who had been given this
nickname in derision, since he was anything but ponderous; and who at
home chanced to be called Fenimore Cooper.
“I’ll tell you,” replied Andy Bird, promptly; “honestly then, because
that’s the last time I can remember handling the same. I was tightening
up a nut that had come loose on my bike--perhaps you may have seen me
do it.”
“Oh! yes,” remarked Larry, the fourth member of the group, “that was
the day we took that long spin on our wheels, and Frank cooked us
a bully good camp dinner when we rested on the side of Thunder Top
mountain, wasn’t it?”
“Sure it was,” responded Andy. “And just before we got ready to start
off again I fastened that bolt. Then it was goodbye to my dandy little
wrench, that I always expected to make a bushel of money patenting some
fine day.”
“Well, I’ve got an idea, and a bright one too!” observed Elephant,
calmly.
“Then it’ll be the first you ever had,” declared Larry, derisively.
“Don’t hold your breath till you forget it, Elephant. Let’s hear the
wonderful stunt that’s struck you!” suggested the broken-hearted loser,
looking interested.
Elephant never hurried. Perhaps after all it was because of his
slowness that his name had been changed so radically.
“Why, you see, it occurred to me that the old bald-headed eagle we
watched circling around and around that noon, may have dodged down when
nobody was looking, and carried the cute little wrench away in his
talons.”
This was not a joke on Elephant’s part. He was never known to show
genuine humor himself, although his chums frequently found cause for
hilarious laughter in some of the numerous suggestions he put forward.
But Elephant himself really believed in them all, marvelous though they
may have been.
“Well, now that _is_ a clever idea,” observed Frank, always ready to
lead the other on, in order to enjoy a laugh. “I tell you, that old
king of the upper air must have heard Andy boasting how he meant to
follow in his father’s wake, and be an aeronaut for keeps?”
He winked at the others while speaking; but Elephant of course failed
to see anything of this side show.
“That’s the ticket!” cried the originator of the idea vigorously, happy
in the belief that for once he must have actually hit upon a bright
thought; “the measly old pirate just made up his mind that he’d cripple
Andy in the start, and stop all work on your wonderful monoplane. No
competition allowed, understand, Andy! So he hooked the wrench; and
that ties up the whole business.”
“Oh! shucks! You give me a pain, Elephant,” grunted Larry, pretending
to double up as a boy might in the green apple season.
“Huh! it’s easy to pick flaws,” sniffed the other, contemptuously. “But
if you don’t like my clever thought, Larry Geohegan, just suppose you
give us a better one. Now, none of your hedging, but out with it!”
“That’s as simple as falling off a log,” sneered the bantered boy, as
he thrust his thumbs into the upper pockets of his coat, and assumed
the air of consequence with which he loved to tantalize Elephant.
“Talk’s cheap; do something, can’t you?” demanded his competitor.
“Listen,” said Larry, impressively. “It seems to me that something
happened to Andy on last Saturday, P. M. How about that little episode
of the quicksand you got stuck in, old fellow? Didn’t we have to run
and get a fence rail to pry you out, wheel and all.”
The two Bird cousins exchanged quick looks.
“Now you’re talking, Larry; because that was just what did happen to
me, for a dead certainty!” admitted Andy, readily.
“Looks like Larry had struck a warm trail,” ventured Frank, nodding his
head encouragingly.
“Hear further, fellows,” the originator of the newest clue went on
saying. “I remember right now that after we pried Andy loose, he had to
draw himself up by means of the limb of a tree. Also, that he straddled
the same limb, so that his head hung down for a little while.”
“Sure. That was when I was trying to get the rope I had tied to my
wheel, over the limb, so you could pull her out of the mire,” admitted
Andy.
“All right,” remarked Larry. “That was just the time the wrench must
have dropped out of your pocket, and went souse in the mud, to sink to
China. Some day you may hear of an enterprising pigtail man over there
taking out a patent on a nice little wrench, warranted never to slip
while you work.”
“Did you see it drop?” demanded the other.
“Nixey, I did not; still, it stands to reason----” began Larry,
obstinately.
“Did you _hear_ it drop?” Andy continued, positively.
“Well, seeing that you were shedding gallons of water about that time,
not to mention hunks of mud, it wouldn’t be funny if we failed to hear
such a little thing fall into the sucker hole,” grumbled Larry, driven
to bay, yet not willing to change his mind.
“All the same then,” declared Andy, “I don’t believe it fell into that
muck you call a quicksand. I’ve just gone and misplaced it, that’s all.
And some minute, when I get my mind on it, I expect to remember what I
did with that little beauty.”
“Meanwhile,” remarked his cousin, with a smile, “we can makeshift to
get along at our work with the big monkey wrench. After all, it isn’t
the tools that really count, but the ability to do things when you’re
left high and dry. Hello! Going to leave us, fellows?” as Elephant and
Larry stopped at a cross roads.
“I promised to do a job in our yard today, and it’s going to take me
the rest of the time to get through,” announced Larry, with a shrug of
his shoulders.
“And me to the woodpile for a little more muscle. So-long, boys;
and don’t you believe that old bald-headed thief of the air didn’t
understand how you meant to snatch his honors away from him. Look to
his nest up on Thunder Top for your monkey wrench, Andy.” And Elephant
solemnly shook his head as he walked slowly away.
“What shall we do now, Frank?” asked Andy, when they found themselves
alone. “Had we better go and tackle a little more work on our machine,
while we wait for that cylinder to arrive?”
“You know we can do mighty little now until we install that. And I’ve
somehow got a hunch it’s about due to arrive. So what say we meander
down to the station and find out?” suggested the other.
“A bully idea; so come along!” declared Andy, usually only too willing
to play second fiddle when in the company of his energetic cousin.
Both were healthy looking boys. Frank’s father was the leading doctor
in the town of Bloomsbury, which fronted on Sunrise Lake, a sheet of
water some seventeen miles in length, and with innumerable coves along
its crooked shores.
Because the boy’s mother had died in his infancy with a suddenly
developed lung trouble, the worthy doctor had always been unusually
solicitous about Frank; and urged upon him the necessity for securing
all the outdoor life he could. Nobody else dreamed that Frank looked
delicate; but his father saw suspicious signs in every little “bark” he
gave utterance to.
The result was that just now Frank was to be kept out of school for a
whole year. His father, being a self-made man, had always believed that
an education could be more practically attained from observation and
travel than by study of books.
Andy, on the other hand, was an orphan. His father had been quite a
well known man of science, and a professor in college. Having a leaning
toward aeronautics, he finally took up the fascinating pursuit, after
his wife died. A year before the time when we make the acquaintance of
the boys, he had vanished utterly from the sight of mortal man, having
been carried away in a severe gale while in a balloon, crossing over
the line of the partly finished Panama canal.
No word had ever come back, and it was of course fully believed that
the daring navigator of the upper currents had perished at sea, or in
the wilds of that tropical country to the south.
So Andy found himself left in charge of a jolly old gentleman named
Colonel Josiah Whympers, mentioned in the will as his guardian. There
was ample money in the estate, and every month Andy received many times
more than any lad in all Bloomsbury. But he had no bad habits, and
spent his money for good purposes; much of it going toward building
a monoplane, which he and Frank expected to utilize in taking little
flights around the vicinity.
So far as Andy was concerned, he certainly came by his great love
for aviation honestly; since his father had been infatuated with the
science of flying.
“Besides,” Andy was accustomed to remarking, when any one challenged
his wisdom in choosing such a dangerous calling; “A Bird ought to take
to the air just as naturally as a duck does to water. My father had to
give in to the call of the upper wild; and I just guess I’ve inherited
the longing to soar through the clouds from him.”
Andy was a merry lad, with twinkling blue eyes, and full of the joy of
living. His cousin Frank happened to be more serious-minded as a rule;
and so they made a most congenial pair of chums, who were yet to have
their first quarrel.
Colonel Josiah was supposed to be a rather gruff old party; but that
was pretty much a blind; for at heart he was the most amiable gentleman
within twenty miles of the home town. Andy could just wind him around
his little finger. Having become a cripple some years back, the colonel
could no longer roam the world, looking on strange sights, as had been
his custom all his life. Consequently, he had to take his enjoyment
in reading of the exploits of others, and in encouraging the boys of
Bloomsbury to become athletes.
At many a hotly contested baseball game the old traveler could be seen
waving his crutch and his cane in the air as he rooted loyally for
the home team. And when he learned how Andy aspired to follow in the
footsteps of his gifted father, with a sturdy intention to conquer the
problems of aviation, instead of throwing obstacles in the way, the
old man actually applauded his choice, and offered to assist by any
reasonable means in his power.
For more than two months now the Bird boys had been industriously at
work upon a model of a monoplane fashioned very much after the style
of the Bleriot which they had seen do wonderful stunts on the day they
traveled down to the trying-out grounds on Long Island.
A great advance had been made in securing a new Kinkaid engine, said
to be three times as light as the best hitherto made. Both boys
anticipated great things when they had completed their task. Several
times they had undone certain parts of the work, to go about it another
way that promised better results. And now they only waited for the
cylinder which had been sent for, to get their little machine into
practical use.
It was far from being a toy. Both boys had gone deeply into the
subject. They talked of little else, read everything that came their
way, consulted every authority attainable, experimented, and planned
their way carefully.
As yet the wonderful monoplane was something of a mystery. It was
housed in a long, low building they were pleased to call a “hangar,”
and which was kept scrupulously locked at all times, whether the
toilers were within or absent. This odd-looking building was situated
in a field back of Colonel Whympers’ house, which also belonged to the
crippled traveler. And frequently he would limp out to where he could
look toward the shack, to talk to himself, nod his head, and smile, as
though he expected great things some day when “his boys” had completed
their task.
Walking down through the town on this July day, rather cool for the
season, the cousins talked as usual of little else save the chances of
their flying machine proving all that they expected of it.
“I’m willing to stake my future reputation on her being a hustler from
the word go!” declared Andy, energetically, as they drew near the
railroad yards.
“And I’m going to risk my precious life on her ability to stay up, once
she gets away from the ground. That’s as much as any fellow could say!”
echoed Frank; who knew only too well what faithful labor had been put
into every part of the monoplane, built for two.
“Don’t I hope we’ll find our cylinder has come to hand, though?”
said Andy, as he began to cast his eyes around, to immediately add
excitedly: “Look there, that seems to be about the size of the package
we’re expecting. Yes, and here’s the name of the aeroplane dealer we
wrote to. It’s a cylinder, as sure as you live. Go and hunt up the
clerk, Frank, and settle with him. Meantime I’ll be ripping off this
cover, so we can carry home the beauty easier.”
So Frank immediately strode away toward the little freight office, to
pay the bill, and settle matters. Andy, left alone, started to make use
of his knife in cutting away the burlap that had been sewed around the
object with heavy twine.
He was just well into this pleasant task, whistling merrily meanwhile,
as was his wont, when he heard a hoarse cry of anger from some point
close by.
“Hey! hold on there, you! What in thunder are you tearing open my
freight for? I’ve got a good notion to have you arrested as a thief!”
cried a voice.
And Andy, looking up in startled surprise, saw two figures bearing down
under full sail, in whom he recognized his particular detestation,
Percy Carberry, backed up by his shadow and crony, “Sandy”
Hollingshead.