A CURIOUS STRANGER LEARNS THE OBJECT OF THE _Gitchie Manitou_
The announced flight of the young aviators Monday afternoon was delayed
until the hour grew so late that this feature of the program was
postponed until the next day. It was the old story of over-enthusiastic
amateur assistants who persisted in giving unsolicited aid when the
airship was being taken from the aerodrome. A young man who thought the
machine had to be carried instead of being wheeled onto the starting
field sought to lift the rear truss by means of the lateral rudder. In
doing this, he punctured the oiled silk plane. After a futile attempt to
sew the rent, Norman was forced to ask the police to clear their
enclosure. When Mr. Zept, one of the committeemen, called and learned of
the situation, he advised a postponement of the flight until the next
afternoon.
"My son tells me," remarked Mr. Zept as he was about to leave the
aerodrome, "that he had the pleasure of meeting you boys this morning.
I'm glad of it. I hope you'll be friends."
"He's a fine young man," answered Norman. "You ought to be proud of him."
"All parents should be proud of their children," answered Mr. Zept with a
sober face. "I've tried to give Paul a good education and I hope I've
done the best for him. But I have never seen much of him and, in a way,"
he added with a smile, "I hardly know him as well as I do you boys."
"He's certainly enthusiastic," remarked Roy, "and--and impulsive," he
added, hesitatingly.
"He really has some peculiar ideas," commented Mr. Zept. "But I suppose
they're natural. I had peculiar ideas myself."
"Yes," suggested Norman, "he makes a great deal out of things that are
old stories to us. If we didn't live here and know the West as well as we
do, I suppose we would have the same romantic ideas."
Mr. Zept was just making his departure, but at this he paused.
"What do you mean?" he asked suddenly and with some concern in his voice.
"Oh, you know he's determined to see the real wilderness," laughed Roy.
"He wants to get a taste of the life the story books describe. I told him
it might not be such an appetizing meal but I imagine he's set on it."
"So I believe," answered Mr. Zept, "although it isn't what I had planned
for him.
"By the way," he added quickly, "you young men know how little there is
in indulging this longing for wilderness adventure. I hope if you have a
chance you won't fail to impress upon Paul the facts as we know them. I
want him to live at home now, with his mother and me. I'm afraid he's
been too long away from us."
That evening the two young men could not resist the temptation to visit
the downtown district where the hotels were crowded with visitors and the
city was resplendent with unusual activity. Norman left Roy with some
friends at the King George Hotel and went home at an early hour. When Roy
called at Norman's house the next morning, on his way to the Stampede
Grounds, he spoke of some new information he had picked up the night
before.
"I found out last night," he began at once, "that everything isn't as
sunshiny in the Zept home as it might be. Our new friend, the Count, I
was told by some friends, got a pretty early start in the fast life of
Paris. Mr. Zept wants Paul to stay at home a while, as I get it, to make
some changes in him if he can."
"What do you mean?" asked Norman. "But I can guess it--it's in his face.
And it isn't cigarettes either."
"Right," answered Roy. "We call it booze out here, but in the young man's
circle in Paris I reckon it wouldn't be worse than wine. Anyway, they
say, young as he is, that's one of his pleasures. He doesn't look to me
as if drinking had ever bothered him much but, from what I hear, he's
come to the point where his father thinks he's got to stop it if it's
ever going to be stopped. He's only been in town a few days and they say
he rides like a States' Indian. But this hasn't taken all his time. He's
already in with the fast set here and you know, in a pinch there's people
in Calgary who can give a pretty good imitation of high life in great
cities."
"I can guess the rest," said Norman. "His father brought him out here to
put him on a ranch. When he found that his son hadn't this idea, it
rather upset certain plans."
"And he'd like us to put in a few knocks but I reckon that'll be some
job. As far as I can see, it's young fellows like Zept who turn these
hardships into glories. I've heard of kids like him who are really at
home where there's no trail and whose idea of luxury is a canoe and a
blanket and a piece of pork."
"Well," concluded Norman, "if I didn't have the aeroplane bug just now,
I'd like to have a chance at the ponies and horses on one of Mr. Zept's
big ranches. A canoe and a blanket are all right, but on a cold evening
when the snow's spitting I don't think they've got anything on a chuck
wagon and a good tent."
On the way to the show grounds, Roy went into further details of the
gossip he had heard concerning young Zept's escapades, not only in Paris
but in the south of France.
"One thing's sure," commented Norman at last, "wild as he may be about a
lot of things, he ain't crazy about airships. That's saying something
these days."
This remark was made because the Count, while showing a polite interest
in the _Gitchie Manitou_, had not bubbled over with exuberance. The boys
felt somewhat chagrined over this lack of enthusiasm until they recalled
that to young Zept an airship was an old story, the young man having
witnessed many flights by the most improved French monoplanes.
On this, the second day of the Stampede, about five o'clock Norman made a
respectable if not very exciting flight. He was somewhat nervous and was
glad when the exhibition was over, and had no sooner landed than he
determined on the following day to attempt a more ambitious demonstration.
On Wednesday and Thursday he added some thrills to his evening flight,
making on the latter evening a landing in the shape of a corkscrew spiral
that got for him special notice in the newspapers the next morning. It
also got for him an admonition from his father, when the latter read this
story, that a repetition of it would result in a breaking of his contract
with the Stampede authorities.
"All right, father," conceded the young aviator, "but that ain't a marker
to the possibilities of the machine. I haven't put over the real stunt
yet."
"And what's that?" demanded his parent.
"I had planned, on the last day of the show, to make an ascent as high as
one reservoir of gas would take me--and that means so high that you
couldn't see me--and then make a volplane back to the ground without
using the engine."
"Are you going to try that?" demanded his father sternly.
The boy looked at him and laughed.
"Probably not--now," he remarked, "although the show'd be over then."
"Try it," snapped his father, "and that'll be the last thing you'll have
to do with your _Gitchie whatever-you-call-it_."
The next evening, which concluded the big day of the Stampede, twenty
thousand people attended the long afternoon's program. When the aeroplane
appeared for its fourth flight, an army of people surrounded the starting
field. Warned by his father, Norman made a less dangerous exhibit, but
one that was on the whole more interesting to the eager spectators.
Having given illustrations of many of the tricks of show aviators,
including the roll and the banking of racing machines on short circular
courses, he made a journey out over the hills until the aeroplane was
lost to sight. The enthusiasm that greeted his reappearance and the
approach of the machine like a bird through the blue haze of the endless
prairies, stirred the crowd as the more dangerous maneuvers had not.
Before reaching the inclosure, the monoplane climbed about four thousand
feet into the air and then volplaned gracefully toward one of the large
exhibition buildings just in the edge of the grounds. When it seemed as
if Norman was about to smash the _Gitchie Manitou_ against the big
green-roofed building, even Roy started and held his breath. Then there
was a quick spring upwards and, with the last momentum of the gliding
monoplane, it lifted over the structure and settled upon the dust of the
race track inclosure like a wide-winged bird.
When, escorted by ample police, the aeroplane had been wheeled into the
aerodrome, the two boys immediately closed the doors and the officers
dispersed the onlookers. It was late and there was not much trouble in
doing this. When only a few persons were left in the vicinity, the doors
were thrown open again and the car was trundled out to receive its
after-flight examination. Norman, yet wearing his cap and jacket, had
climbed into the cockpit to overhaul the rudder wires and engine valves;
Roy was inspecting the body of the car, when the attention of both boys
was attracted by a cheery salutation from a stranger.
"Good evening, young gentlemen," exclaimed a man who was unmistakably
from the States. "I've been trying to have a look at your machine but
I've only just now succeeded in evading the police. I hope I'm not in the
way?"
Since there were few persons about, the boys smiled.
"Glad to see you," answered Roy. "Glad to see anyone if he comes alone.
It's only the mob that bothers us."
The stranger smiled and lifted his hat in renewed greeting.
"I've been watching your flight to-day," he went on, directing his remark
to Norman, "and I judge it must require some nerve."
"It requires a good machine and some little experience," responded Norman
deprecatingly.
The man was a well-set-up, ruddy complexioned individual somewhat beyond
middle age. His clothes might have been made anywhere in the East and
yet, in spite of certain smart touches in them, the man wore a negligee
shirt, a flowing black necktie and an abundance of hair that indicated an
acquaintance with the freer costumes and manners of the West. A large
diamond ring on his weatherworn and sinewy finger suggested that this
jewelry was probably only worn on occasions. He had a good-natured
countenance which unquestionably could easily show decision and force of
character.
"Come in," remarked Roy, good-humoredly. "Sorry I can't offer you a
chair."
"Seriously," retorted the stranger, "I've been watching you with more
than mere curiosity. I have a special desire to know something about your
airship if you can give me a few minutes."
Without questioning the man further, the two boys, glad enough of the
opportunity, at once began an explanation of the craft that had in the
last few days demonstrated its practicability. The stranger followed them
intently, interrupting them now and then with questions, and showed a
surprising interest in the elaborate description given him by the young
aviators. Considering its origin, the aeroplane was a more than ingenious
piece of work. In general it followed the stream lines of the modern
French monoplane. Its distinguishing variation was a somewhat wider bulge
in the forward part of its birdlike body.
While in most monoplanes this framework, to which the planes are
attached, is made only wide enough to accommodate a narrow cockpit and
the compact engine located in its apex, in this car the cockpit was
almost double in size that of the average machine. So wide was it that
two passengers might sit side by side. The flying planes of the car and
its five-foot body gave the aeroplane an entire width of thirty-seven
feet.
The planes were attached to the body proper by rigid flanges, reinforced
by wires running from tip to tip of the planes, passing directly over the
body, and not elevated on bracing chandelles. These wires were taut and
made a part of the planes, much like reinforcing ribs. Beneath the planes
three heavy wires ran from their forward tips to the bottom of the car.
There were no flexing devices to manipulate the rear edges of the planes,
but on the rigid frames of each plane was a lateral rudder manipulated by
one lever standing in the forward part of the cockpit.
The stream lines of the body tapered birdlike to the horizontal rudder
twenty feet in the rear. The truss work of the body was covered with
diagonally crossing strips of veneer, so that, as a whole, with the rigid
planes, the monoplane had a substantial appearance. This frame, covered
with waterproof canvas, made the body of the car impervious to rain.
The two rudders at the rear of the body resembled in all ways the
steering devices of the best modern air vehicles. A difference was found
at once, however, in the fact that the rudders were heavily waterproofed
and in that the steering wires passed the pilot's cockpit through the
protected body of the car. There was nothing new in either the big single
propeller fixed to the front of the body, nor in the Gnome engine that
afforded motive power.
"We didn't make the engine," explained Norman. "It represents all the
money Moulton and I have ever saved, some we haven't saved but expect to
save, and all that we could borrow of our fathers. It's eighty horse
power, came all the way from France, and if anything happens to it, we're
bankrupt for life."
The stranger smiled with a curious sparkle in his eyes, rubbed his chin,
and without direct answer, remarked:
"It doesn't seem an ordinary machine--looks more substantial than most of
'em."
Roy had secured a box, and placing it alongside the car he motioned their
guest to mount.
"There is a difference," he began at once with new enthusiasm. "This
machine is made for wind and weather. If any airship can make its way
through blizzards, the _Gitchie Manitou_ can. If it doesn't, it's a rank
failure."
The guest gave a look at each boy, as if this was what he suspected.
"Look!" went on Roy. Springing into the cockpit, the two boys caught the
sides of the cockpit framework and in a moment had drawn above their
heads four light but strong frames of wood. When these met above their
heads, they formed a curved and tightly-jointed canopy. The four frames
were filled with small panes of glasslike mica. Within the canopy the
inmates were as well protected from the elements as if they had been
under a roof.
While the stranger's face flushed and his eyes grew wider, the boys
unsnapped the frames and they fell back into place, disappearing within
the sides of the cockpit.
"That isn't all," exclaimed Norman, and he pointed to two small, dark,
metal boxes just in the rear of the two seats. "Look," he went on, as he
also pointed to a small dynamo mounted just in the rear of the circular
engine. "As long as the car's moving, these two little car heaters will
not only keep us from getting frost bites but, in a pinch, we can cook on
'em."
"And here," added Roy, as he tapped a chestlike object on which the seats
were mounted, "is where we get the stuff to do the trick. We can put gas
enough in there to carry us three hundred miles. Back here," he went on,
pointing to a nest of skeleton shelves adjoining the rear of the cockpit,
"we can carry extra supplies of oil, gas, and food to carry us five
hundred miles, if we ever get that far from home."
In what was little less than complete enthusiasm, the curious guest
sprang speechless from the box, and took a few quick steps as if to
arrange his thoughts.
"Don't think that's all," exclaimed the hardly less enthusiastic Norman
as he vaulted from the novel pilot-cage. "I guess you see what we're
driving at and why we called our machine _Gitchie Manitou_. You know
that's Cree for--"
"I know," broke in the stranger; "Injun for 'Storm God'!"
"I thought it was 'God of the Winds,'" exclaimed Roy. "But names don't
count. If they did, we should have called it 'The Snow King,' because
that's where it ought to shine. See these landing wheels?" he urged.
"Well, they're only put on for use around here. If this machine ever gets
where it belongs it's going to have runners like a sled, where these
wheels are. And I've got a theory that these are all it needs to make a
trip where dogs and sleds can't travel."
The two boys, eager to continue their half-told description, paused for a
moment. The stranger, his hat in his hand, seemed to be drinking in the
story he had just heard, with an interest so profound that the puzzled
boys could not grasp it.
"Young men," said the man at last, "I'm mighty glad to hear all this. I
wish you'd let me do some talking myself for a few moments. Will you let
me tell you something about myself? It won't take long. I hope," and he
motioned the two boys to the seats on the box, "when I'm through, it will
interest you." That it did, the next chapter will amply prove.