17. The Coast of Oregon

When he had somewhat recovered, Rob sat up and looked around him. The

elder sailor was kneeling in earnest prayer, offering grateful thanks

for his escape from suffering and death. The younger one lay upon the

ground sobbing and still violently agitated by recollections of the

frightful experiences he had undergone. Although he did not show his

feelings as plainly as the men, the boy was none the less gratified at

having been instrumental in saving the lives of two fellow-beings.

The darkness was by this time rapidly enveloping them, so Rob asked his

companions to gather some brushwood and light a fire, which they

quickly did. The evening was cool for the time of year, and the heat

from the fire was cheering and grateful; so they all lay near the

glowing embers and fell fast asleep.

The sound of voices aroused Rob next morning, and on opening his eyes

and gazing around he saw several rudely dressed men approaching. The

two shipwrecked sailors were still sound asleep.

Rob stood up and waited for the strangers to draw near. They seemed to

be fishermen, and were much surprised at finding three people asleep

upon the bluff.

"Whar 'n thunder 'd ye come from?" asked the foremost fisherman, in a

surprised voice.

"From the sea," replied the boy. "My friends here are shipwrecked

sailors from the 'Cynthia Jane.'"

"But how'd ye make out to climb the bluff?" inquired a second

fisherman; "no one ever did it afore, as we knows on."

"Oh, that is a long story," replied the boy, evasively.

The two sailors had awakened and now saluted the new-comers. Soon they

were exchanging a running fire of questions and answers.

"Where are we?" Rob heard the little sailor ask.

"Coast of Oregon," was the reply. "We're about seven miles from Port

Orford by land an' about ten miles by sea."

"Do you live at Port Orford?" inquired the sailor.

"That's what we do, friend; an' if your party wants to join us we'll do

our best to make you comf'table, bein' as you're shipwrecked an' need

help."

Just then a loud laugh came from another group, where the elder sailor

had been trying to explain Rob's method of flying through the air.

"Laugh all you want to," said the sailor, sullenly; "it's true--ev'ry

word of it!"

"Mebbe you think it, friend," answered a big, good-natured fisherman;

"but it's well known that shipwrecked folks go crazy sometimes, an'

imagine strange things. Your mind seems clear enough in other ways, so

I advise you to try and forget your dreams about flyin'."

Rob now stepped forward and shook hands with the sailors.

"I see you have found friends," he said to them, "so I will leave you

and continue my journey, as I'm in something of a hurry."

Both sailors began to thank him profusely for their rescue, but he cut

them short.

"That's all right. Of course I couldn't leave you on that island to

starve to death, and I'm glad I was able to bring you away with me."

"But you threatened to drop me into the sea," remarked the little

sailor, in a grieved voice.

"So I did," said Rob, laughing; "but I wouldn't have done it for the

world--not even to have saved my own life. Good-by!"

He turned the indicator and mounted skyward, to the unbounded amazement

of the fishermen, who stared after him with round eyes and wide open

mouths.

"This sight will prove to them that the sailors are not crazy," he

thought, as he turned to the south and sped away from the bluff. "I

suppose those simple fishermen will never forget this wonderful

occurrence, and they'll probably make reg'lar heroes of the two men who

have crossed the Pacific through the air."

He followed the coast line, keeping but a short distance above the

earth, and after an hour's swift flight reached the city of San

Francisco.

His shoulders were sore and stiff from the heavy strain upon them of

the previous day, and he wished more than once that he had some of his

mother's household liniment to rub them with. Yet so great was his

delight at reaching once more his native land that all discomforts were

speedily forgotten.

Much as he would have enjoyed a day in the great metropolis of the

Pacific slope, Rob dared not delay longer than to take a general view

of the place, to note its handsome edifices and to wonder at the throng

of Chinese inhabiting one section of the town.

These things were much more plainly and quickly viewed by Rob from

above than by threading a way through the streets on foot; for he

looked down upon the city as a bird does, and covered miles with a

single glance.

Having satisfied his curiosity without attempting to alight, he turned

to the southeast and followed the peninsula as far as Palo Alto, where

he viewed the magnificent buildings of the university. Changing his

course to the east, he soon reached Mount Hamilton, and, being

attracted by the great tower of the Lick Observatory, he hovered over

it until he found he had attracted the excited gaze of the inhabitants,

who doubtless observed him very plainly through the big telescope.

But so unreal and seemingly impossible was the sight witnessed by the

learned astronomers that they have never ventured to make the incident

public, although long after the boy had darted away into the east they

argued together concerning the marvelous and incomprehensible vision.

Afterward they secretly engrossed the circumstance upon their records,

but resolved never to mention it in public, lest their wisdom and

veracity should be assailed by the skeptical.

Meantime Rob rose to a higher altitude, and sped swiftly across the

great continent. By noon he sighted Chicago, and after a brief

inspection of the place from the air determined to devote at least an

hour to forming the acquaintance of this most wonderful and

cosmopolitan city.

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