TRICKED BY RIVALS
Correcting their watches with Georgetown time, as given to them by Mr.
Whiteshore, the Englishman in charge of the field, the boys found to
their joy that they had arrived five minutes ahead of schedule. This
would give them, if they wished to take it, a trifle more than three
hours to spend in Georgetown.
But first must come business; they must go over the machine very
carefully and see if the long, hard run from Panama had done any
damage; and they must replenish their fuel, oil, and water supply.
They were happy to find both engines in fine shape, thanks to the
possibility of alternating them in transit, and beyond a number of
scratches and the cracked glass made by the condors in their attack in
crossing the Andes the airplane was in perfect shape. Paul climbed up
and examined the helium-gas valves, of which there were three in each
wing, one for each of three compartments, and announced that the
pressure showed only an insignificant decrease. At the rate of
escapage indicated, they would have plenty to last them for the whole
trip. This was reassuring knowledge, for no envelope can be made so
impervious that light gases will not escape at all. The body
compartment also showed good pressure.
It took them an hour and fifteen minutes to replenish the fuel tanks
and water radiator and put everything in shape. Just as they were
finishing up, a cry from the curious crowd around them called their
attention to the western sky, and they saw an airplane approaching.
This developed rapidly into the unmistakable outlines of the _Clarion_,
and in a few minutes the rival crew landed in the field.
Pete Deveaux sauntered over to the crew of the Sky-Bird II.
"Well, fellows," he said, with the sneer which seemed to be on his
leathery countenance most of the time, "I notice you got in a little
ahead of us. Congratulations! I suppose you're tickled to death."
"We're not quite that far gone; just a little bit alive," grinned Tom
Meeks. "What made your crew so slow, Deveaux? Did you get wet in that
rain last night and have to stop off and dry out your clothes?"
"Aw, cut it out; talk sense!" snarled the French flyer. He turned on
his heel, fearing more of Tom's sharp thrusts if he lingered longer,
and shot back: "You guys will have another laugh coming one of these
days, mark my words!" With that he rejoined his companions.
Not at all worried at such a prophecy, our friends secured a native boy
to guide them into the town, a quarter of a mile distant, leaving their
airplane under guard of two Chinese out in the open, the field boasting
no such thing as a hangar. At the little telegraph office of the town,
John dispatched their report to the _Daily Independent_, also mailed at
the local postoffice the promised films of the encounter with the
condors.
They then purchased some breakfast and began to look about them. While
it was still early, the narrow streets were quite well crowded with
people, so much so that it looked to the visitors as if the inhabitants
never slept. What they saw almost made them rub their eyes to make
sure they were not in Asia instead of South America. There were dozens
of almond-eyed Chinese within sight, dozens of black Hindoos in turbans
and flowing garments, dozens of Parsees wearing long black coats and
hats like inverted coal-scuttles; to say nothing of numerous Portuguese
and English, the latter mostly merchants and plantation owners.
The roofs of the buildings were slanting, with wooden or galvanized
iron walls. Some of the more important of them, such as stores,
warehouses, government buildings, etc., were quite large, and stood
upon piles to keep them out of the way of floods which often sweep the
lowlands in the rainy season. In many of the streets ran canals, which
their small guide told them, in pidgeon-English, were drains for the
floods. And he also said that the long embankments which the boys saw
stretching along the sea front were dykes built at great expense by the
sugar planters to keep these same floods from washing the rich soil of
their fields out into the ocean.
After purchasing some fresh fruit and groceries for their aerial
larder, the little party betook themselves back to the landing-field,
on the way passing numbers of pretty little houses which stood in the
midst of beautiful gardens filled with tropical plants.
As they neared the field, they saw that quite a crowd had collected
since their departure. Pushing their way through the concourse about
their own airplane, they were surprised to find Pete Deveaux and Chuck
Crossman just jumping down from the wings. These flyers hurried away
through a gap in the circle of onlookers toward their own machine
before our friends could accost them.
The Sky-Bird crew were considerably put out at noting this situation,
for they had particularly told the Chinese guards to let no one meddle
with the Sky-Bird. The Celestials were squatting unconcernedly upon
the ground, one on either side of the airplane, as John rushed up and
said to one of them; "Didn't I tell you not to let any strangers around
this machine?"
"No lettum stranger lound," protested the fellow. "Him both flylers
alla samee you. Like-um see, you see; like-um see, he see."
"Oh, ginger!" exclaimed John, turning to his comrades, in clear
disgust, "the stupid dunce thinks those fellows belong to us and we to
them, just because we all wear the same sort of flying clothes! Did
you ever see the like?"
Paul now took up the questioning. "What were those fellows doing up
there?" he asked of the Chinaman.
"No tellee me; no tellee Lee," was the response, as the fellow jerked
his head in the direction of his comrade. "Just lookee over alla samee
you do li'l bit ago."
"Were they in the cabin?" demanded Paul.
"No go in klabin."
They walked around the machine giving it a cursory looking over, but
could find nothing out of the way, and every one of them felt
considerable relief.
"I guess they were only taking a look to see if our construction was
the same as theirs," suggested Bob. This seemed a plausible
explanation, and they accepted it, although with some misgivings.
About ten minutes later they saw the crowd over in the other side of
the field scattering, and then the _Clarion_ shot up into the air. In
a few minutes it was pointed down the coast and making good headway.
Our friends were not quite ready, but when the other machine was a mere
speck against the southwestern sky, they hopped off themselves, with
Paul at the throttle. Not one of the party had any doubt but that they
could catch their rivals before the latter should arrive at Para, where
they were due at six o'clock that evening. It needed only that first
stage of the journey from Panama to Georgetown to show them that they
had either the speediest craft or the most skillful crew.
Paul mounted to a height of about two thousand feet, then let the
Sky-Bird straighten out in the direction of their next stop. He opened
up the throttle little by little, and the machine rapidly gained
momentum. But somehow the young pilot was dissatisfied. Finally he
hitched the stick over to the notch which should have brought the craft
into a speed of 150 miles, and watched the speedometer closely.
"Humph!" he ejaculated, after fifteen or twenty minutes.
"Say, Paul," cried Bob just then, "we're losing on the _Clarion_.
She's clear out of sight now."
"Why don't you tell me something I don't know?" growled Paul in a tone
very queer for him.
"What's the matter with you, Buddy?" demanded John, stepping up. "You
seem to have an awful grouch on, some way!"
"Got a good reason for it," snapped Paul. "This is enough to make a
preacher almost swear."
"Don't talk, but speed her up a bit if you don't want them to get
away," advised John.
"She doesn't act right, somehow," said Paul. "The Sky-Bird ought to be
hitting it up to a hundred and fifty right now, but she's only making a
hundred and fifteen. She acts groggy; don't you notice it?"
"I thought myself she was riding a little rocky--sort of out of
balance," admitted John.
"Take the stick and try her yourself," said his brother.
John did so. For fifteen minutes he said nothing, but worked the
throttle and watched the speedometer. Then he called Paul again to the
seat.
"You might as well take her, Buddy," declared John with a puzzled shake
of his head; "I can't do any better with her than you. She wallows
along like a man with a load of buckshot in his pockets--heavy--and
seems out of equilibrium, too!"
"What do you suppose is the matter, John?" asked Tom Meeks.
"I'll bet Pete Deveaux and that Chuck Crossman have been tampering with
her, back there in Georgetown," declared Bob.
"I don't know; it certainly looks kind of suspicious," admitted John
Ross. He thought a moment. "Cattails and jewsharps!" he exclaimed
very suddenly.
"What now?" asked Bob.
"I believe I've hit the trouble," stated John, with his brown face a
shade paler. "You know we saw those fellows monkeying around our
wings. It would be an easy matter to trip one or more of those valves
and let some of the helium out! That would make us heavier, and if
more gas were let out from one wing than from the other, we would be
out of balance in the bargain."
This declaration of John's brought a startled and troubled look to the
faces of his companions. All knew that if Pete Deveaux had engineered
such a dastardly trick as John hinted at, a handicap would be in store
for the Sky-Bird's crew all through the remainder of the race, for it
would be impossible to get a renewal of their helium-gas supply before
reaching their own country again, and then it would be too late.
"What shall we do?" came from Bob.
"Do? There's nothing to do now, but to keep on flying at the best gait
we can until we reach Para," decided John. "When we get there we'll
have a chance to find out what is really wrong."
This seemed the wisest course to pursue. So Paul, vexed though he was
at the contrary actions of the airplane, buckled down to the job of
guiding the machine and complained no more. But he made up his mind
that if investigations proved the rival crew had been tampering with
the Sky-Bird II he, for one, would do his part in giving them a warm
time should they meet on the ground again.
At noon while John and Tom slept, Bob relieved Paul, and for an hour
they made a little better time by working both engines; but, afraid of
overheating the one they termed their "night engine", they went back to
one motor for the rest of the journey into Para, where they arrived an
hour late. And it was to find bad news awaiting them.
The landing-field official announced that the _Clarion's_ flyers had
left not fifteen minutes before for Freetown, Africa. And upon
investigating the helium valves in the wings of the Sky-Bird, our boys
found to their dismay that fully a third of the pressure was gone,
indicating that an equal quantity of gas had escaped in some manner.
It may be added that there was very little doubt in their minds as to
this manner.