WHO'S AT THE WINDOW?
The making of a big airplane is a good-sized job. Especially is this
the case with the first airplane made up from new plans. And when the
job has to be done by no more than three young men, it becomes an
unusually formidable task.
The loss of the blue-prints did not hold up the progress of our friends
in the least, as it was only the matter of fifteen or twenty minutes'
work for Paul to make a new set from the tracings he had at home; but
there were unexpected difficulties met here and there in the
constructive work, as is always the case in large mechanical
undertakings of an original nature, besides which the young builders
ran into the usual delays caused by slow deliveries of parts and
materials from distant dealers and manufacturers; and sometimes the
railroads were tardy in transporting shipments.
All in all, the summer slipped away only too quickly, and it came time
for Paul and Bob to go back to school again with Sky-Bird II not more
than half finished. It is true that the long fuselage of the craft was
done, with its graceful curves and splendid, roomy, enclosed cabin,
accommodating five persons; but all concerned were a little
disappointed that more progress had not been made. Mr. Giddings had
been quite a frequent visitor at the fair-grounds all through the
summer, lending a voice of encouragement throughout the operations. He
looked really concerned, however, when Paul and Bob had to return to
Clark Polytechnic Institute for the new term of study.
"This is rather hard on us, isn't it, boys?" he observed, with a light
laugh in which he unsuccessfully tried to conceal his anxiety. "Here
we are with a half-completed airplane, a race staring us in the face
for next summer, and two of our workmen snatched away for the whole
winter by the inexorable demands of school life, leaving only one lone
fellow to finish the job."
"We'll be able to work Saturdays, dad," ventured Bob, trying to wedge a
little bit of cheer into the gloomy prospect.
"And evenings. I'd be willing to work after supper every night for a
couple of hours," proposed Paul.
"You won't do any such thing," came the firm answer. "While you are at
school you two fellows need your evenings for rest and study, and your
Saturdays for the school-team sports. Only when there isn't a game on
in which you are a contestant will I allow you to help John on the
machine--even if it isn't finished for five years. I have been
thinking this situation over for some time, for I have seen it coming,"
went on the great publisher after a moment's pause; "and I have come to
the conclusion that the best thing I can do to hustle our ship along is
to call in another workman on the job, some chap we can trust and who
knows how to handle tools. In fact, if he were a regular airplane
mechanic it would be all the better."
John Ross spoke up at once. "Mr. Giddings," he said, "I think you have
the right idea. Bob and Paul can't help me much from now on, and if we
take that trip around the world next summer this machine must be done
some weeks ahead, so that we can have a chance to test her out and tune
her up. Now, it happens that Paul and I have a cousin--Tom Meeks--who
is about my age and who flew in the same squadron with me over on the
French front during the war. I will vouch for Tom's ability as a
mechanic and flyer, also as to his trustworthiness. It happens my
mother just received a letter from Tom's folks in Illinois the other
day in which she said the factory had closed down in which he was
working and he was out of a job."
"And you think this Tom Meeks would be willing to come up here, then,
and help you this winter for the salary I am paying you?" questioned
Mr. Giddings with interest.
"I think he would, sir."
"Then write to him immediately, and tell him to come right on."
In less than a week a strapping big young man, suitcase in hand, got
off the train at the Yonkers depot, and was warmly greeted by his
cousins, Paul and John Ross, who then introduced him to Bob Giddings.
Bob had been so eager to see the new helper on the airplane that he
could not wait for a later meeting with him. He took instant liking to
the jolly newcomer, who seemed to be ever smiling, and after a short
exchange of conversation with him hurried home to tell his father what
a splendid fellow Tom Meeks was.
Tom was domiciled in the Ross home, to which he had been a visitor in
other years, and of course for the rest of that evening was kept busy
visiting with Mrs. Ross and looking at the numerous miniature airplanes
of Paul's. His praise of the little Sky-Bird, and particularly of the
drawings of Sky-Bird II was very strong, and when he went to the
fair-grounds the following morning with John and actually saw what a
fine-looking ship the big craft was, he was stumped for words to
express his full admiration.
Then while John and Tom went industriously to work, Paul and Bob rode
away to Clark Polytechnic in New York with Mr. Giddings. Just before
starting into the city that morning, the newspaper man had met Tom, and
there was little doubt that he was well pleased with this addition to
his force of workers. Of course Paul and Bob were sorry to have to
interrupt their labors on Sky-Bird II, but there was no help for it,
and there was some consolation in the thought that undoubtedly their
instructors would let them work on some of the airplane's smaller parts
as a portion of their school mechanical practice. This supposition
indeed proved correct, and as the fall days passed they found the two
student chums not only partaking with full spirit in the sports of
their comrades, but also contributing in no small measure to the
progress of the work on the new airplane.
As a rule, Paul and Bob managed to stop in each Saturday for at least
an hour or so to lend some assistance to John and Tom, and when there
were no school contests on, they spent practically the entire holiday
in the hangar.
The cool days of November soon compelled the boys to install a couple
of heating stoves in the big building, and after that the place was
warm and cheery throughout the working day, no matter how blustery and
nippy the weather. At night the coals were carefully banked with
ashes, to keep up a fair degree of warmth until the following morning.
Up to this time nothing had been seen of any suspicious person lurking
around the premises, but one afternoon late in the month, when Tom
Meeks was working alone in the hangar and John had gone to town after
some bolts, Tom thought he heard a strange sound at one of the two
windows near the workbench.
Turning quickly from the wing-strut which he had been setting in place,
Tom faced the window just in time to see a swarthy-looking countenance,
adorned with a toothbrush-like mustache, pulled out of range. The
mechanic had been informed of Bob's experience with the man who had
evidently followed him to the grounds during the summer, also of the
blue-prints which had been stolen, and now as he observed the
similarity in looks between this eavesdropper and the reported shadow
of Bob, he became quite excited.
With that lack of coolness and presence of mind characterizing a more
reserved temperament, the impulsive Tom rushed straight up to the
window, and peered out. Of course he could see nothing, for the peeper
had been cute enough upon finding himself observed to keep close to the
side of the building as he moved swiftly toward its rear.
Tom now seized the lower sash and tried to throw it up, so as to get a
sidewise view. To his disgust he found it double-spiked, and realized
that he had put that very second nail in himself upon first learning of
the loss of the blue-prints.
"Huckleberry pie!" sputtered Tom, using his favorite expression when
excited.
He whirled about and started for the door of the building. On account
of the extensive size of the structure it was quite a little way to
this. To make matters worse Tom dashed forward in such haste and
flurry that he did not watch his step very closely; when he was about
half-way to the door, his toe caught the protruding leg of an innocent
sawhorse, and the next moment Tom Meeks and the sawhorse were both
overturned.
"Huckleberry pie!" gasped the big fellow. His right shin hurt like
fury, but he would not stop to examine it, and covered the remaining
distance to the door in very ludicrous limping jumps. Dashing around
the front of the building, he reached the corner which gave him a view
of the side.
Not a soul was in sight. Not to be outdone completely, Tom hurried
along the side of the building. As he came near the rear end he saw a
slender figure just clambering over the highboard fence of the field in
the rear of the hangar.
Lame as he was, big Tom knew there was no chance of his overtaking the
fleet-footed and cunning stranger, so he returned to his work very much
crestfallen in spirit.
When John heard what had happened, on his return to work, he was
considerably disturbed, and suggested to his comrades the advisability
of placing a night-guard on the premises for a while at least, since
this unknown enemy might make an effort some night to burn or
irreparably damage the Sky-Bird. The others sanctioned this
precaution, and thereafter took turns in watching, although this
vigilance was apparently all for naught, as no suspicious character
appeared.