A SIGHT OF THE BIPLANE
“Say, things haven’t done a thing but happen to us today,” remarked
Bob, when they were nearing the broad, smooth highway that led directly
into Cresville.
“That’s right,” agreed Ned. “Meeting those two queer men, having them
nearly take our heads off because we looked at their aeroplane, and
then this mix-up with Noddy.”
“Noddy got _his_ all right,” observed Jerry grimly. “I don’t believe,
even if we’d caught him, and given him a well-deserved licking, that
he’d be any worse off.”
“It was retributive justice with a vengeance,” was Ned’s further
opinion. “But, speaking of queer happenings, what do you make of Brown
and Black?”
“Can’t make much of them,” spoke Bob.
“I’d like to know what those tools were,” came from Jerry. “They were
the queerest combination I ever saw on an aeroplane. We carry a lot
on our _Comet_; but nothing like those, and we’ve got twice as much
complicated machinery as those fellows have.”
“Sure,” agreed Ned. “Well, we’ll soon be out in the motorship again if
we conclude to go to the aviation meet; and maybe they’ll have some new
tools on exhibition there.”
“We’ll certainly go,” agreed Jerry. “Automobiling is all right if
you’ve never sailed in the air, but once you have skimmed along above
the clouds--”
“You want to keep at it,” finished Bob. “But say, we mustn’t forget to
stop, and send help out to Noddy. He’s human, even if he has done us
many a mean turn.”
“That’s so. We’ll stop at Mason’s garage and tell them,” suggested
Jerry. “I think----”
But what he was thinking about he never mentioned, for at that moment
he and his chums were aware of a curious throbbing and humming sound
in the air, far above their heads. With one accord they gazed upward,
and the sight they saw caused Jerry suddenly to shut off the power, and
bring the auto to a stop.
“An aeroplane!” exclaimed Ned.
“A biplane,” supplied Bob.
“And going fast, too!” added Jerry. “Say, but they’re eating up the
air-space all right!”
“I wonder if that can be Mr. Jackson?” ventured Ned.
“He’s far enough from here,” declared Jerry, referring to the
millionaire whom they had so thrillingly rescued from his disabled
dirigible balloon over the ocean.
“Whoever it is, he knows how to handle the craft all right,” declared
Ned. “Look at that spiral dip he’s making.”
As he spoke the air machine came down a little way in a corkscrew curve.
“Wait!” exclaimed Jerry impetuously as he reached back in the tonneau
and took from a pocket in the side a pair of powerful field glasses.
“We’ll see what these show,” he went on, as he focused them on the
distant aeroplane.
No sooner had he gotten the aircraft in his range of vision than he
uttered a startled cry.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Ned.
“Some one you know?” asked Bob.
“I don’t know that we have the honor of their acquaintance,” spoke
Jerry slowly, “but if that machine isn’t the _Silver Star_ I’ll buy you
fellows ice cream sodas--that’s all! Here, Ned, have a look.”
Jerry passed his chum the glasses, and no sooner had the merchant’s son
gotten a good view than he exclaimed:
“You’re right! It’s Brown and Black sure enough.”
“You don’t mean to say you can make out faces at that distance,”
exclaimed Bob incredulously. “Let me have a peep.”
“I can’t see their faces,” declared Ned, “but I’m sure it’s them, for
it’s their machine, and they’re so touchy that they wouldn’t let any
one else run it. It’s them sure.”
“I believe you,” commented Jerry. “Those are the two mysterious men we
met at the hotel.”
“I wonder where they’re going?” mused Bob, as he took another look.
“They’re flying high for amateurs.”
“They’ll reach Harmolet if they keep on in that direction long enough,”
declared Ned. “It may be that they’re going to the meet at Colton.”
“It’s too soon for that,” was Jerry’s opinion. “But it certainly is odd
that we should see those fellows again. Let me have another look, Bob.”
It was difficult now, even with the powerful glasses, to discern the
aeroplane, for it was almost hidden in the haze of the upper regions.
In a few seconds more it had entirely disappeared, and Jerry putting up
the field glasses, started the auto.
The boys discussed the curious sight, speculating on the destination of
Brown and Black, and then branched off on matters connected with their
own motorship. By this time they had reached Cresville, and stopped at
a garage, the owner of which promised to send out a powerful car, with
ropes and pulleys, to haul Noddy from the ditch.
“Well, that’s over,” remarked Jerry, as they turned toward the home of
the tall lad, where the auto was kept. “We’ve had plenty of excitement.”
“Enough for one day,” added Ned.
“But it isn’t over yet,” said Bob quickly.
“Why not?” demanded his chums together.
“There comes Andy Rush, and he acts as though he had something to tell
us,” went on the stout lad.
Standing on the sidewalk, just ahead of them, and waving his arms about
like those of a miniature windmill, was a small lad, bearing every
evidence of great nervousness. He was jumping up and down, now running
forward a few steps, and then coming to a halt.
As soon as the motor boys were within hailing distance he called to
them:
“I say--stop--wait a minute--great excitement--maybe somebody
killed--mine blown up perhaps--all the gold gone--maybe someone
wants to buy your motorship--special message--don’t know what’s in
it--fortune for you--maybe--here is it--saw you coming--ran out to stop
you--I have it--open it quick--whoop! up in the air--down again--start
over--here you are!” and with that Andy Rush, for it was indeed he,
passed over to Jerry a yellow envelope--a telegram.
“Are you sure that’s all, Andy?” asked the tall lad gravely.
“Sure--that’s all--agent just gave it to me--I was at the station when
it came in--messenger boys all out--I said I’d take it to you--he gave
me a dime--bought an ice cream soda--maybe it’s bad news--I don’t
know--whoop!”
Andy was wiggling about like an uneasy snake, and he only had one foot
on the ground at a time. Jerry looked at the telegram, saw that it was
addressed to himself, and tore it open.
“Are you sure you’ve got all that out of your system?” inquired Ned of
Andy.
“All of what?” asked the small, excited boy.
“All that talk. Because if you keep any in you might explode,” went on
the merchant’s son.
“Better get another ice cream soda and cool off,” advised Bob, handing
Andy a dime.
“I will--thanks--no bad news I hope--mine all safe--motorship not
busted--I’ll cool down soon--go to the store--drug store--half a dozen
flavors--I always take vanilla--lots of ice cream--here I go--whoop!”
and down the street Andy started on the run.
“Thank goodness he’s gone,” murmured Ned with a sigh of relief. “He
gets on my nerves. But what’s the news, Jerry?”
“Professor Snodgrass will arrive to-morrow,” replied the tall lad
folding up the message. “He’s on the track of some new kind of bug or
beast I suppose. He wants us to meet him at the station.”
“Good!” cried Bob. “Now we’ll have some more fun, and go off after a
mosquito that plays the piano, or something like that, I suppose. Three
cheers for Professor Snodgrass!”
“Say, you’re getting almost as bad as Andy Rush,” commented Jerry, as
he once more started the machine, and steered it into the driveway of
his home.