A VIKING AIR RAID.
Between the peril of Helga Redmond, and the mystery of the overlong
absence of the Viking scouting party--the five warriors who had been
ambushed by Nick Fratelli's crew--there was great uneasiness and
considerable activity in the plateau city.
A new and stronger scout patrol was dispatched, its strength greatly
augmented by the armed presence of Jones, Murphy, and Little Arty.
Theresa had begged to go; and the request had brought from her hostess,
Astrid, the single word "_Valkyr!_" It was pronounced with such horror
that Terry blurted hastily to Angus: "Gee, Mr. Selkirk, I ain't that
kind of girl, really!"
The young bishop and Angus requested Scarface to remain with them to
plan their campaign, and he gladly accepted. He had already decided
to add the Norse language to his accomplishments, and Borghild, the
beautiful, volunteered to teach him.
So the expedition set forth, and in due course of time came upon the
stripped and desecrated bodies of the five Viking dead and of the
gangster Scutari. Two of the party were placed on guard, and a runner
was dispatched back to the plateau with the news.
A little further on they ran into the pack of hyænodonts that had
been following Nick Fratelli and his gang. Five of the dog-beasts they
killed, to lay at the feet of the five warriors when given Viking
burial, this being the chief use made of these fierce denizens of the
woods; in fact, they were protected by Viking law, and not permitted to
be slain except for this purpose or in self-defense.
When the runner reached the plateau, there was consternation there.
Angus conferred with Scarface.
"We must get word to the scouts at once by glider," announced Angus,
"instructing them to locate the gangsters and await reënforcements.
Perhaps if we strike suddenly enough, we may overpower Fratelli's crew
in spite of their weapons, for they are as yet very few.
"Would you like to make the flight in our new two-seated glider? We
plan to drop the note of instructions to the scouting party, then
try to locate the enemy from the air, and then drop a second note,
informing our scouts of the enemy position. You can write this second
note, and your three men, even if they cannot translate it to my
troops, can at least lead the way by following your directions."
Scarface was tempted by the thought of Borghild, but the prospect of
action, and the novelty of a glider-flight proved too strong, so he
gladly assented.
"Of course, in such a long flight, you may be forced down," added
Angus, "for these motorless planes are very tricky. But you can reach
one of our parties, and have them guard the glider, disassemble it and
ship it back."
"How do these things work?" inquired Scarface, now showing much
interest; and he added:
"I've read about your flying experiences, but I never could quite
figure how you did it. It's all very well to talk about taking
advantage of shifts of wind and of every up-current of air, but why
don't these shifts and up-currents come upon you too suddenly for you
to take advantage of them?"
Angus Selkirk smiled indulgently.
* * * * *
"We've learned a lot since Astrid, Helga, Eric and I built our first
gliders out of _skwaa_-skin and split bamboo, when the Skraelings
besieged us on this plateau. In those days we trusted largely to
luck, and took the air-currents as they came. But since then we have
made quite a study of meteorology, and have found that the gusts obey
regular rules. By watching the ground and the clouds, we can tell just
about what to expect and where to expect it.
"For example, we expect strong up-currents directly under clouds, and
diffused down-currents just beyond their edges. We expect up-currents
over plains; down-currents over woods, and even stronger ones over
water. Near the ground the air is apt to rush in toward woods and
water, while at higher levels the drift is just the opposite. If the
wind is blowing toward a hill, it rises at the hill; if away, it falls.
"So, by watching the ground and the sky, we know what to expect, and
are prepared to take advantage of it. But mostly we have learned the
'feel' of the air. We fight the air automatically, just as a boxer or a
fencer fights his opponent."
"Have you any theory to explain these air-currents?" asked Scarface.
"Yes," replied the Scotch Viking. "We think that they are due to the
sun's heating the earth unequally, owing to differences in soil. Hot
air rises, cold settles. Clouds are warmed by the sun, and their under
side remains cool.
"We imagine that these phenomena are much more regular down here than
on the outer surface of the earth, due to the fixed position of our
central sun. But in both places they probably exist to a much greater
extent than is dreamed of. They furnish the only possible explanation
of how we are able to soar and gain height on calm days, with scarcely
a trace of wind."
"Yes," confirmed Scarface, "I saw in the papers, shortly before leaving
the outer earth, that gliders had actually stayed aloft in Germany for
over eight hours."
"We have almost equaled that record here," asserted Angus proudly.
This conversation made Scarface all the more anxious to try one of
these strange motorless planes.
* * * * *
Scarface said good-by--Angus giving him the words--to Borghild, and
warmly pressed her hands He took his automatic and all his 45-caliber
clips--his rifle having been loaned to the leader of the reënforcing
party. Then the glider was wheeled to the edge of the plateau, he was
introduced to the young Viking aviator named Oskar Hiher; the two took
their seats, and the machine was pushed off into space.
Oskar proved to be most expert. He slid and circled and spiraled,
taking advantage of every shift in wind, every stratum and
cross-current of air, always working higher and always tending
southward.
In a very few minutes, it seemed, they passed over the sentries
guarding the Viking dead, and then passed over the advance party, still
pressing on down the trail. The message was dropped, and the glider
kept on.
From their height, the Miami was soon spotted in the distance.
"Boat," said Scarface, pointing.
"_Yah, boat_," replied the aviator.
Then reaching into a pouch beside him, he produced several round
objects about the size of oranges.
"_Bomma_," said he.
"_Yah_, bombs!" replied Scarface.
There were some things that they could mutually understand, in spite of
their difference in language. The two men grinned at each other. Eight
hundred years apart in race and customs, and the whole earth's crust
apart in environment, nevertheless they were brothers under the skin.
Bombs! This was going to be fun! Scarface reached for one, but his
companion shook his head and tapped his forehead. The meaning was
plain: Scarface lacked the necessary air experience.
They arrived over the Miami at quite a height. The conference with
Altoonah was still in progress, although that gentleman was not in
evidence. There were, however, plenty of Skraelings on deck, and their
relations with Swede and Friday were evidently friendly.
"_Skraelingna_," announced Oskar, and Scarface began writing his
report, stating that Nick and the Skraelings had already contacted, and
were probably concocting an alliance.
No one on board seemed to notice the plane. Perhaps they mistook it for
a large _skwaa_.
Circling to the southeast, the glider passed over a body of Skraelings
on the march toward the coast. Some of these noticed the glider, and
soon they were called to the attention of the whole party. This would
never do. These savages would get in touch with the Miami, and ambush
the Viking foot-parties.
Evidently the same thoughts were simultaneously passing through Oskar's
head, for he asked hopefully, "_Bomma?_"
But Scarface shook his head. If they committed no act of hostility
against these natives, the report of the natives, on reaching the
Miami, would lack certainty as to whether the Vikings suspected their
plans.
So Scarface shook his head and said, "_Nein_."
That might not be the proper Viking word for "no," but he had already
learned, when in doubt in speaking to a Norseman, to use the German
word if he happened to know it.
The plane wheeled back toward the Miami again.
"_Skal yee bomma boaten?_" inquired the young Viking. Scarface sensed
his meaning.
Why not bomb the boat? Strike before the alliance was formed. Disable
the craft and its defenders, so that it might fall a prey to the
scouting expedition, shortly to arrive; put an end to the war before it
got fairly started. Why not?
"_Yah!_" shouted Scarface Boston Jimmy.
Down out of the sky swooped the glider with a rush, straight toward the
Miami. The Skraelings on deck scattered, perhaps not realizing that
this huge man-made bird was not a _skwaa_, but fearing nevertheless
the swoop of so large a pterodactyl.
* * * * *
As the glider barely skimmed the roof of the vessel, passing neatly
under the aërial, between the masts, one of the orange-like objects
was let go. It exploded against the side of the deck house with a loud
detonation, laid two of the Skraelings writhing on the deck, and blew a
huge hole in the deck house. Consternation reigned on the Miami.
"Too bad it wasn't further fore or aft," thought Jimmy. "Aft, it might
have got the engines, and further forward might have disabled the
navigating controls."
But how to explain this to the wild Viking at his side, who knew as
little of English as he himself did of Norse?
Under the force of its own momentum, the glider climbed abruptly to
quite a height, then turned and swooped down again toward the Miami. If
there were only some way to explain to the flyer to strike at one of
the ends of the ship!
Quite a group were gathering in the bow, and that gave Scarface an
idea. His companion might not understand the location of the vulnerable
spots in a motor yacht, but he would certainly get the idea of bombing
a group of men; so Scarface nudged him and pointed violently toward the
group in the bow.
"_Yah!_" said Oskar, and swung the nose of the glider, so as to pass
over the men.
In one hand he held his bomb ready to hurl it among them, as he passed
over their heads. But he never hurled it.
When he was still at a distance of about two hundred feet, a staccato
rattle like that of a pneumatic riveting machine broke out from the bow
of the Miami, and a rapid succession of small incandescent spots of
light, like silver bees, shot whistling beneath them.
"Up! Up!" shouted Scarface, grabbing the joy-stick in the hand of the
astonished Viking, and forcing it back against his chest.
Up soared the glider. But, as if it were a hose-stream being played
upon them, up too rose the trail of silver bees deliberately to meet
them; and, when it met them, the Viking collapsed with a gurgle in his
seat.
Scarface still held the stick, and he clung to it like grim death.
He felt a tap on the side of his chest, then a warm tingling feeling
there, and then a trickle down his side, but still he held on.
He passed beyond the Miami, but the clatter of the machine gun
continued. Up, up, soared the glider, into a stall, and then a
sideslip. Scarface tried to get his feet past the dead body of his
companion and onto the foot-controls, to right her. He failed to reach
them, but his efforts somehow shifted the weight and accomplished the
desired result, for the craft righted and swung southward.
He now pushed the stick gingerly forward, so as to secure a gentle
descent, and thus put as much distance as possible between his enemies
and himself. Things were going beautifully. In spite of his lack of
control of the stabilizer, the glider for some reason kept an even
keel. The sound of the machine gun was fading away in the distance.
Scarface was just congratulating himself on his beginner's luck as an
aviator, when the plane suddenly without warning went into a spiral
nose dive and plunged into the sea.