THE MISSING BLUE-PRINTS
The Air Derby created interest all over the world. People in foreign
lands talked about it and read about it in their newspapers, just as
they had done in the United States and Canada. With the keenest kind
of interest they had followed the reports of its progress and its
finish. Several nations had hoped to have their own representatives
come in first, only to be disappointed.
All this interested world pricked up its attention anew when the bold
editorial of the _Daily Independent_ was widely copied. As John Ross
had predicted, and as probably Mr. Giddings knew before he wrote it,
this particular article caused a furore of comment editorially and
otherwise. Much of this,--indeed, it seemed the most of it--was
favorable to the stand taken by the New York publisher. But when the
rival sheet, the _Clarion_, arrayed its strong force in opposition, the
conservative element of the public felt vastly encouraged, and many
were the heated personal arguments as well as newspaper duels, which
ensued. Aviators all over the land were particularly concerned, and it
goes without saying that the winners of the late competition were all
lined up with the _Clarion_ contingent. This paper's challenge to the
_Daily Independent_ for a two-party race around the world on the
_Independent's_ own conception of what it considered a fair route awoke
great joy in the hearts of the leave-things-as-they-have-been
adherents. Few, if any of them, particularly the publishers of the
_Clarion_, thought Mr. Giddings would ever take up the challenge.
Therefore, judge of the surprise of everybody, and the dismay of the
_Clarion_ staff, when a few days following the flaunting of its
challenge, the front page of the Giddings paper contained the
following, under a heavy black type heading:
THIS PAPER ACCEPTS THE "CLARION'S" CHALLENGE
A short time ago the _Daily Independent_ in an editorial strongly
criticized the methods or rather routes used in the past in making
world tours for a time record, stating that such journeys had all been
made unfairly, in that the routes adopted were about a third less than
the actual circumference of the globe, and that in our opinion the only
legitimate around-the-world record could be made by following
approximately the equatorial line.
We expected a good deal of criticism, of course, when we came out thus
boldly against a custom which had prevailed since the beginning of
so-called "around the world" record trips. But we did not expect to be
challenged to prove our sincerity by ourselves making such a journey in
competition with our esteemed but rabid contemporary, the _Clarion_.
To show the _Clarion_ that we are not "bluffing," and that we are
perfectly willing to demonstrate practically any position we ever take,
we herewith accept its challenge. Even now we have in process of
construction a new type of airplane, by means of which we are confident
we can fly approximately straight around the belly of this old world
entirely by air. A little later we shall announce a time, place, and
route, in our columns, and sincerely trust the _Clarion_ will be
satisfied with them.
It is quite unnecessary to say that Paul and John Ross read the
foregoing article with the keenest pleasure the night they reached home
from the hangar and found their mother just finishing its perusal.
Naturally Mrs. Ross felt all of the average mother's anxiety at the
thought that her sons would be exposed to the perils such a long
journey would invite, but on the other hand she was very proud to think
their talents had placed them in such an honored position. It had only
been an evening or two before that Mr. Giddings, in company with his
son Robert, had called at the Ross homestead, and after a long
conference with the boys as to the suitability of the new Sky-Bird II
for making a world cruise, had taken his departure with his mind fully
made up as to how he should meet the rival paper's challenge.
A few days subsequently, Bob Giddings found, upon reaching home for
lunch, that his motorcycle, which he was in the habit of riding back
and forth to work, so that he could rush into town on short notice and
get emergency materials for the airplane, had a flat tire. As he could
not fix the tire then, he decided to walk back to the fair-grounds.
As he emerged from the big front yard of his home, he chanced to look
toward town, and observed an orange-colored taxicab standing near the
first crossing. This would not have especially attracted Bob's
attention, except for the fact that a man sitting on the front seat was
just at that moment pointing his index finger toward the Giddings'
place, and a slender-looking man just descending from the cab was
looking that way and nodding his head.
It seemed to Bob that he had seen the passenger before, but a second
look made him think he must be mistaken; at least he could not place
him.
"It's probably somebody to see dad. If so, he'll get disappointed, as
dad won't get back from the city before evening."
Dismissing the incident from his mind with this thought. Bob hurried
down the road, eager to reach the hangar and get to work again on the
new airplane.
A few moments after he had passed the home of a youth he knew, he heard
a familiar salutation, and turned around to wave his hand in a greeting
to this friend, who had come to the front door. As he turned, his eye
fell on a slender figure some distance behind, a figure which stepped
behind a tree and stopped.
"Humph! that's funny," mused Bob. "It looks a lot like that fellow who
got out of the taxi back there by our house; I wonder what he's up to,
anyhow?"
He continued his way, but as he reached the fair-grounds gate and got
out his key to unlock it, the whim to look back again seized him. As
he turned, his gaze once more rested on the slender form of the
wayfarer, who had crossed to the opposite side of the road, and who
now, finding himself observed once more, promptly stopped and began to
fuss with his shoe-lace.
"Say now, this is funny!" ejaculated Bob under his breath, vainly
trying again to recall the identity of the lean figure and dark
complexion. "I believe that chap is trying to shadow me. I wonder
what in the dickens he really is up to?"
It was the second time Bob had asked that question of himself, but as
he was a poor source of information just then, he was forced to pass
into the fair-grounds and relock the gate in as mystified a state of
mind as before he put the query.
A little later, when he reached the big hangar he whirled about again,
as if half expecting to see the stranger still skulking behind him in
the grounds. To his relief he did not detect this situation exactly,
but he did see a dark face, which had been peering over the top of the
highboard fence near the gate, drop down from view on the other side.
Bob gave a grunt as he passed into the hangar and took off his coat.
"As I live, I believe he's up to some sort of mischief," growled the
boy. And when, shortly afterward, John and Paul Ross appeared he told
of his experience and repeated his suspicions.
"That is funny," asserted John; "Paul and I saw nothing of any such man
when we came along, and we passed down the same road. Perhaps he
mistook you for somebody else."
"I hope so, but I don't like his actions a little bit," declared Bob
stoutly.
With that he picked up a try-square and pencil and began laying out
some work for Paul to cut on the circular saw, while John busied
himself at the boring-machine in putting a hole through the center of
the big twelve-foot balsa-wood propeller which a little later would be
reinforced with a thin jacket of a new metal called "salinamum," which
was made chiefly from salt but whose fused components made it as light
as aluminum and stronger than tool steel.
Soon the queer actions of the stranger were quite forgotten in the deep
interest of the three young men in their work. With the prospect of a
world tour before them if the Sky-Bird turned out well, they now had
more incentive than at the beginning to build the machine with the
utmost skill and attention to every detail. Some changes, calculated
to make the craft better adapted to the peculiar conditions she would
be likely to meet in such a varied temperature were put into effect,
but on the whole they found their original plans so well laid that no
important features seemed to require modification or abandonment.
But if the man who had followed Bob dropped out of their minds the rest
of that day, he was soon to occupy a prominent place in their thoughts.
For the very next morning, when Paul and John arrived at the hangar,
they were met at the door by a very agitated Bob Giddings.
"Fellows, what do you think has happened?" cried Bob, clearly very much
excited. Without giving his friends time to answer the question he
blurted out: "Somebody got in here last night and stole our plans!"
"Stole our plans!" reiterated Paul and John in the same gasp.
"That's it," said Bob,--"stole the set of blue-prints we have been
working from. What's more, they must have seen the airplane before
they got out. I went to take the plans out of the bench drawer here
where we have kept them locked up, and there was the drawer wide open,
the lock picked, and the drawings gone. I'll bet a herring we can
thank my dark-skinned shadow of yesterday for this little visit!"
"It does look as if he might have had something to do with this,"
agreed John soberly. "I wonder how the rascal, whoever he is, could
have gotten in the building. There's a heavy Yale lock on the doors."
"The doors were locked all right when I came this morning," vouched
Bob. "I don't see myself how--"
"Here you are, gentlemen!" called Paul, who had stepped to a good-sized
window near the head of the workbench. "Here's the fellow's private
entrance!" And he pointed to where a heavy nail locking the lower sash
had been forced aside, also to a series of indentations in the outer
sill, where some prying tool had obviously been recently at work.
"It's a clear case of theft, that's sure," observed John; "and since
its only our plans that have been taken, it goes to show that this chap
is very much concerned about this new airplane."
"Perhaps he wishes to beat us out in getting the patent rights," Bob
hinted darkly.
"No, I don't think it's that," differed Paul; "our application was sent
in to Washington some weeks ago, and you know the first one to apply
for a certain patent gets the attention."
"Well, then, he could use our plans and make and sell airplanes of
their pattern, couldn't he?" asked Bob, whose ideas of patent laws were
still a little vague.
"Not at all; if he did we could sue him for infringement," was Paul's
answer. "The only way he could profit by this theft, so far as I can
see, would be to construct a machine for his own private use, or to
give to another person. We could not touch him for that."
"And that would be bad enough for us--if such a machine were used
against us in this proposed race around the world, wouldn't it?"
demanded Bob Giddings.
Paul and John Ross looked at him in dismayed astonishment. They had
not thought of this contingency before.