PATCHING THE "SKYROCKET"
But Jerry gave no explanation of the method he intended to use in
transporting the unwieldy bulk across the narrow stretch of water.
While Phil and his helpers disappeared, to bring up the rest of the
aeroplane framework, he set his crew to work. The Scout camp, which was
something like a hundred feet north, yielded a couple of trappers'
axes; with these he soon had two stout saplings cut and trimmed to an
even length of thirty feet. In the larger end of each he cut a deep
notch, while to the smaller ends he nailed a good-sized block, the
nails found in an emergency locker on the _Big Four,_ both it and the
Boy Scout boat having been brought down and hauled up on the beach.
The two boats were now laid side by side, twenty odd feet apart. Across
the bows he laid the one sapling, across the sterns, the other, so that
blocks and notches fitted down over the far edges of the boats. Mr.
Fulton at once caught Jerry's idea and nodded his head approvingly.
"All right," he said, "if the saplings will hold up the weight."
"They don't need to," explained Jerry. "The _Skyrocket_ will reach over
to the inner edges of the boats; I measured the distance with my eye.
All the sticks do is to hold the two ships together."
Phil's crew made two trips, on the second one bringing in Frank, who
had wrapped up a weird collection of broken-off parts in a piece of
varnish-stiffened silk torn from one of the planes.
It did not take long to load the "body" of the _Skyrocket_ onto the
saplings, the boats being still on shore. Then, all pushing steadily,
the strange double craft was slowly forced across the sand and into the
shallow shore-water of Plum Bun. Both boats settled dangerously near to
the point of shipping water, so it was fortunate that the river was as
calm as a millpond. At that, there was no hope that anyone could get in
to row the boats.
"Strip for action!" shouted Phil. "The boss says we're to swim across.
Likewise, the last one in's a rotten egg."
The splashing that ensued, as ten youngsters plunged in, almost in a
body, nearly swamped the boats. After his first shout of alarm, Mr.
Fulton waved his hand gayly and shouted:
"Go to it, fellows. If the doctor didn't have my arm in a splint I'd be
right with you."
"All right, Scouts," assented Jerry, "but go mighty easy."
They were all good swimmers, and with hardly a ripple they propelled
the _Skyrocket_ slowly but steadily toward the shore of Lost Island. As
they drew near they saw that they had spectators on both sides, for
awaiting them was the girl Phil and Jerry had seen not so long before,
but under different circumstances. Now she waved her hand encouragingly.
"Oh, Liz-z-i-e!" shouted Phil, "where's the meat-axe?"
For answer she caught up a pebble and sent it skimming in his
direction, so close that Phil felt no shame in ducking, even if it did
bring a great shout of laughter from his companions.
But it was evident that "Lizzie" or Elizabeth Billings, as they soon
came to call her, bore no ill will as she came down to the water's edge
and awaited their coming. But the boys had no intention of making a
landing so long as she was there, and Jerry was turning over in his
mind just how to ask her to withdraw, when she apparently came to the
conclusion that her presence was neither needed nor desired. At any
rate, she left the beach abruptly and disappeared along the island
path, only stopping to send a hearty peal of laughter in their
direction.
"Next time across I guess well wear our clothes," snickered Budge. "The
young lady isn't used to welcoming savages to her lonely isle."
"Try a little of your savage strength on that rod you're leaning on;
nobody suggested that this affair was a lawn party," Phil reminded him.
"Come on, fellows, let's get the old _Skyrocket_ up out of the damp."
After some maneuvering they decided to unload from the water, as the
beach shelved gradually. Within five minutes they were ready to make
for the other shore, being compelled to swim the boats back again, as
no one had remembered to throw in the oars.
This time their load was hardly worth calling one so far as weight was
concerned, and four of the boys piled in, to row the boats across,
nearly capsizing the whole arrangement in their efforts to outspeed
each other. This time they were fully dressed. One of the boys brought
the two boats back, and now all the party crossed over, with the
exception of poor Budge, who again was the one slated to stay behind
and guard camp. Perhaps his disappointment was only half genuine,
however, as he was none too keen about the heavy job of freighting the
wreckage to the center of Lost Island.
Tod was awaiting them when the last boatload beached on the island. It
was easy to see that he had been greatly worried over the nonappearance
of his father, and the bandages in which Mr. Fulton was literally
swathed were not calculated to set his mind at ease. But Mr. Fulton's
laughing version of the "accident," as he called it, soon relieved
Tod's fears.
They made short work of the trip to the long, low shed Phil and Jerry
had seen on their exploration of the island, and which they now learned
was a "hangar," a place specially fitted for taking care of the
aeroplane. When the big sliding door was thrown open the boys saw that
inside was a complete machine shop, with lathes, benches, drills and
punches, the whole being operated by power from the gasoline engine in
the corner.
"The first thing to do," announced Mr. Fulton, "is to understand just
what we're driving at. So I'll explain, as briefly as possible, just
what this contraption of mine is. It's simply a device that enables me
to reverse the propellers instantly at high speed. But that isn't all.
The same lever throws in another set of propellers--lifters, we call
them--just above where the pilot sits. They act as a kind of
counterbalance. Now these planes, or wings, act in the same manner as
the surfaces of a box kite, and aside from this device of mine, which
has some details you won't need to know about, and a slight improvement
I've made in the motor itself, the _Skyrocket_ isn't any different from
the ordinary biplane, which you all know about, of course."
"Of course we don't," blurted Jerry.
"Of course we do," exclaimed Phil. "There isn't one of the Flying
Eagles who hasn't made half a dozen model flying machines, and Barney
here won a prize with a glider he made last spring in the manual
training department of the high school. But we've all studied up about
aeroplanes--that's why we call ourselves the _Flying_ Eagles."
"Another reason," chuckled Mr. Fulton, "why there ought to be a bunch
of Boy Scouts in Watertown. How about it, Jerry?"
"Leave it to us. We'll challenge you Eagles to a tournament next
summer, and you'd better brush up your scouting if you don't want to
come off second best. Is that a go, Tod?"
"That's two go's--one for each of us."
"Well," suggested Mr. Fulton, "those of you who don't know the first
principles of flying go into the second squad. You go to the
office--that's the railed off space yonder--where you'll find plenty of
books for your instruction. As soon as I get gang number one properly
started I'll come back and give you a course of sprouts."
Jerry and Dave and Frank went to the "office," from where they heard
Mr. Fulton putting Tod in charge of one group, while he took the rest
under his personal direction.
"First off," he advised, "we'll take the _Skyrocket_ all apart. All the
broken or strained parts we'll throw over here in this box. Anything
that's too big we'll pile neatly on the floor. I want to know as soon
as possible just what I'll have to get from the city. I can call on the
blacksmith shop at Watertown for some of the hardest welding, and Job
Western did most of the carpentering in the first place, so I know
where to go for my trusses and girders. Examine every bolt and
nut--nothing is to be used that shows the slightest strain or defect.
"Phil, you and I will tackle the motor. If she isn't smashed, half the
battle's won."
Jerry sat back in the corner awhile, trying his best to get something
definite out of the great array of books he found on a low shelf.
Looking up and seeing Mr. Fulton's eyes on him, a twinkle in their
depths, he threw down the latest collection of algebraic formulas and
walked over.
"I guess I know enough about aeroplanes to unscrew nuts and nip wires.
You can explain the theory of it to us after working hours."
So, with monkey wrench, pliers, hammers and screwdriver, he set about
making himself as busy as any of the others--and as greasy.
Dark came on them before they had made enough headway to be noticeable.
The boys were glad to see the shadows creeping along, for, truth to
tell, they were all thoroughly tired and not a little hungry. Not a
bite had any of them eaten since breakfast.
"Hope Budge has taken it upon himself to hash together a few eats,"
sighed Phil. "I feel hungry enough to tackle my boots."
"Eats?" exclaimed Mr. Fulton in surprise. "You don't mean to tell me
that you're hungry?"
"Oh, no, not hungry. Just plain starved," clamored the whole outfit.
"Good. One of you go over and get your guard, and we'll see what those
mysterious signals mean that Miss Elizabeth has been making this past
half hour. She told me she'd cook us a dinner--if we could stand
domestic science grub. This is the first time she ever kept real house.
Let's wash up."
The supper that Elizabeth brought, smoking hot, to the long, board-made
table the boys quickly set up in the hangar, did not smack very much of
inexperience. Even Budge declared it was well worth the trip across the
river. The boys were inclined to linger over the meal, and Dave started
in to tell a long story about a hunting trip in which he and his uncle
had been the heroes of a bear adventure, but Mr. Fulton stopped him,
even if the yawns of his listeners had not warned him to cut the tale
short.
"We're in for some good hard licks, men," said Mr. Fulton, "and it's
going to mean early to bed and early to rise. That is," he amended, "if
you want to go through with it."
"We'll stick to the bitter end," they cried. "What's the program?"
"Two weeks of the hardest kind of work. Breakfast at six; work at
six-thirty, till twelve; half hour for lunch; work till seven; dinner;
bed. That may not sound like much fun--it isn't."
"Suits us," declared Phil for the rest. "Do we get a front seat at the
circus when the man puts his head in the lion's mouth--and a ride on
the elephant?" he joked, pointing at the dismembered _Skyrocket_.
"I'll give you something better than that, just leave it to me,"
promised Mr. Fulton. "Where you going to turn in?"
"We go over to camp. You'll blow the factory whistle when it's time to
get up, won't you?"
"No," teased Elizabeth, coming in just then, "I'll drop a couple o'
nice smooth pebbles into camp as a gentle reminder."
It was a jolly party that crowded into the two boats and sang and
shouted their way across Plum Run some ten minutes later, but within
the half-hour the night was still, for tired muscles could not long
resist the call of sleep.
But bright and early next morning they were all astir long before the
hour of six and the promised pebbles. A swim in Plum Bun put them in
good trim for a hearty breakfast, and that in turn put them in shape
for a hard day's work.
And a hard day it turned out to be, for Mr. Fulton parceled out the
work and kept everyone on the jump. Jerry and Tod were put at the
motor, which had refused to respond to its owner's coaxing. They
twisted, tightened, adjusted, tested, till their fingers were cramped
and eyes and backs ached.
Lunch gave a most welcome rest, but the half hour was all too short.
Every one of them welcomed Mr. Fulton's decision when he said: "We've
got along so nicely that I think I will call this a six-o'clock day.
Wash up, everybody, and let's see what Elizabeth has for us."