MR. HARDING DECLARES HIMSELF.
Readers of the first volume of this series, "The Girl Aviators and The
Phantom Airship," will recall Mr. Harding. They will also be likely to
recollect his son, Fanning, who made so much trouble for Peggy Prescott
and her brother, culminating in a daring attempt to "bluff" them out of
entering a competition for a big aerial prize by constructing a phantom
aeroplane. Fanning's part in the mystery of the stolen jewels of Mrs.
Bancroft, the mother of Jess and Jimsy, will likewise be probably held in
memory by those who perused that volume. The elder Harding's part in the
attempt to coerce the young Prescotts into parting with their aerial
secrets, consisted in trying to foreclose a mortgage he held on the
Prescott home, with the alternative of Roy turning over to him the blue
prints and descriptions of his devices left the lad by his dead father.
How the elder Harding was routed and how the Girl Aviator, Peggy Prescott,
came into her own, was all told in this volume. Since that time Mr.
Harding's revengeful nature had brooded over what he chose to fancy were
his wrongs. What the fruit of his moody and mean meditations was to be,
the Mortlake plant, which he had financed, was, in part, the answer.
In the volume referred to, it was also related how Peter Bell, an old
hermit, had been discovered by means of the Prescott aeroplane, and
restored to his brother, a wealthy mining magnate.
In the second volume of the Girl Aviators, we saw what came of the meeting
between James Bell, the westerner, and the young flying folk. By the
agency of the aeroplane, a mine--otherwise inaccessible--had been opened
up by Mr. Bell in a remote part of the desert hills of Nevada. The
aeroplane and Peggy Prescott played an important part in their adventures
and perils. Notably so, when in a neck-to-neck dash with an express
train, the aeroplane won out in a race to file the location papers of the
mine at Monument Rocks. The rescue of a desert wanderer from a terrible
death on the alkali, and the routing of a gang of rascally outlaws were
also set forth in full in that book, which was called "The Girl Aviators
on Golden Wings."
The present story commences soon after the return of the party from the
Far West, when they were much surprised--as has been said--to observe the
mushroom-like rise of the Mortlake factory. But of what the new plant was
to mean to them, and how intimately they were to be brought in contact
with it, none of them guessed.
"Well, Mortlake," observed Mr. Harding, in his harsh, squeaky voice--not
unlike the complaint of a long unused door, "well, Mortlake, we are
getting ahead, I see."
The two men had, by this time, passed within the big sliding doors of the
freshly-painted shed, and now stood in a maze of machinery and strange
looking bits of apparatus. From skylights in the roof--there were no side
windows to gratify the inquisitive--the sunlight streamed down on three or
four partially completed aircraft. With their yellow wings of vulcanized
cloth, and their slender bodies, like long tails, they resembled so many
dragon-flies, or "devil's darning needles," assembled in conclave upon the
level floor. At the farther end of the shed was a small blast furnace,
shooting upward a livid, blue spout of flame, which roared savagely.
Actively engaged at their various tasks at lathes and work-benches, were a
dozen or more overalled mechanics, the most skillful in their line that
could be gathered. Here and there were the motors, the driving power of
the "dragon flies." The engines glistened with new paint and bright brass
and copper parts. Behind them were ranged big propellers of laminated, or
joined wood, in stripes of brown and yellow timber. Altogether, the
Mortlake plant was as complete a one for the manufacture of aerial
machines as could have been found in the country.
"Yes, we are getting along, Mr. Harding," returned Mortlake, "and it's
time, too. By the way, Lieut. Bradbury is due here at noon. I want to have
everything as far advanced as possible in time for his visit. You won't
mind accompanying me then, while I oversee the workmen?"
Followed by Mr. Harding, he made an active, nervous tour of the
work-benches, dropping a reproof here and a nod of commendation or advice
there.
When he saw a chance, Mr. Harding spoke.
"So the government really means to give us an opportunity to show the
worth of our machines?" he grated out, rubbing his hands as if washing
them in some sort of invisible soap.
"Yes, so it seems. At any rate, they notified me that this officer would
be here to-day to inspect the place. It means a great deal for us if the
government consents to adopt our form of machine for the naval
experiments."
"To us! To you, you mean," echoed Mr. Harding, with an unpleasant laugh.
"I've put enough capital into this thing now, Mortlake. I'm not the man to
throw good money after bad. If we are defeated by any other make of
machine at the tests I mean to sell the whole thing and at least realize
what I've put into it."
Mortlake turned a little pale under his swarthy skin. He rubbed his blue
chin nervously.
"Why, you wouldn't chuck us over now, Mr. Harding," he said deprecatingly.
"It was at your solicitation that the plant was put up here, and I had
relied on you for unlimited support. Why did you go into the manufacture
of aerial machines, if you didn't mean to stick it out?"
"I had two reasons," was the rejoinder, in tones as cold as a frigid blast
of wind, "one was that I thought it was certain we should capture the
government contract, and the other was--well, I had a little grudge I
wished to satisfy."
"But we will capture the government business. I am not afraid. There is no
machine to touch the Mortlake that I know of----"
"Yes, there is," interrupted Mr. Harding; "a machine that may be able to
discount it in every way."
"Nonsense! Where is such an aeroplane?" "Within a quarter of a mile from
here. To be accurate, young Prescott's--you know whom I mean?"
The other nodded abstractedly.
"Well, that youth has a monoplane that has already caused me a lot of
trouble." The old man's yellow skin darkened with anger, and his blue
pinpoints of eyes grew flinty. "It was partly out of revenge that I
decided to start up an opposition business to his. He was in the West till
a few days ago, and I never dreamed that he would return till I had
secured the government contract. But I am now informed--oh, I have ears
everywhere in Sandy Beach--that this boy and his sister, who is in a kind
of partnership with him have had the audacity to offer their machine for
the government tests also."
"Audacity," muttered Mortlake under his breath, but Harding's keen ears
caught the remark.
"It is audacity," agreed the leathern-faced old financier; "and it's
audacity that we must find some way to checkmate. I've never had a
business rival yet that I haven't broken into submission or crushed, and a
boy and a girl are not going to outwit me now. They did it once, I admit,
but this time I shall arrange things differently."
"You mean----"
"That I intend to cinch that government business."
"But what if, as you fear, the Prescotts have a superior aeroplane?"
"My dear Mortlake," the pin-point eyes almost closed, and the thin,
bloodless lips drew together in a tight line, "if they have a superior
machine, we must arrange so that nobody but ourselves is ever aware of
the fact."
With a throaty gurgle, that might, or might not, have been meant for a
chuckle, the old man glided through the doors, which, by this time, he had
reached, and sliding rather than stepping into his machine, gave the
chauffeur some orders. Mortlake, a peculiar expression on his face, looked
after the car as it chugged off and then turned and re-entered the shop.
His head was bent, and he seemed to be lost in deep thought.