PAUL VERSUS PETE
There was a wild scamper of natives as our flyers came down upon the
smooth, hard sands of the beach. In this operation they had to use the
utmost care to avoid striking the machine of their contemporaries, but
it was accomplished without mishap, and the Sky-Bird came to a stop
about seventy feet from the _Clarion_.
They were immediately surrounded, at a very respectable distance,
by a cordon of Samoans. These were splendid-looking fellows.
Their dusky bodies were strong and stalwart, and their faces were
intelligent-looking. It was plain to be seen that they had not the
slightest hostile intentions toward the aviators. On the contrary
their features expressed clear friendliness, although it was obvious
that their experience with the _Clarion_ was still too fresh to
eradicate their natural timidity of such a strange thing as an airplane.
Our friends were very stiff and cramped from their long ride from Port
Darwin. It seemed so good now to be able to stretch their limbs, to
feel solid ground once more under their feet, and to see the blue sky
all around their heads!
The morning was hot, but a cool breeze blew inshore, giving a
delightful freshness to the air. Near at hand were rows of native
huts, made of poles and bark, and back of these loomed fine groves of
cocoanut trees and other tropical vegetation in the richest profusion.
Even the elevations of this volcanic island had their barrenness
alleviated by growths of greenery which seemed entirely to cover them.
No sooner had the boys sprung out of the machine than three white men
approached them. These introduced themselves as Mr. Plusson, in charge
of the local mission; Mr. Hart, a British trader; and Mr. Shoreman, the
American trader who had been engaged to look after their fuel at this
airport. These gentlemen expressed the liveliest cordiality in their
welcome, and Mr. Plusson plead so hard for them to accompany him to his
home and join him and his wife at breakfast that they consented.
They learned that their rivals had arrived about twenty minutes before.
Ever since the dastardly attempt of Pete Deveaux and his crowd to wreck
the Sky-Bird in the Indian Ocean, our flyers had been greatly incensed
at them, or rather at Pete Deveaux himself, for they had no doubt but
that it was he who had instigated the attack. Paul Ross was
particularly inflamed at the French aviator's act, and had more than
once declared since, that the first time they met Deveaux again he was
going to thrash him until he begged for mercy. This was rather a bold
statement for Paul to make, since he was but a youth of eighteen while
Pete Deveaux must have been close to thirty; but the lad was strong and
skillful with his fists, in addition to which his resentment was just.
When justice is on one's side it goes a long way toward giving that
person staying powers in any contest against wrong.
For these reasons, when Paul now declared that he could not bear to
wait another minute before taking Pete Deveaux to account, his chums
made no attempt to dissuade him, except in the matter of time. John
pulled him aside, so that explanations would not have to be made to
their new acquaintances, and asked him to defer the matter until after
they should have had breakfast, to which Paul reluctantly agreed.
When they once more reached the field, it was to see their rivals also
just arriving. Without further ado, Paul walked straight up to Pete
Deveaux and said; "Deveaux, why did you drop those rocks down on us
back there when we were overhauling you between Colombo and Singapore?"
The Frenchman's face paled visibly. He did not like the look in Paul's
eye, nor the stern countenances of his friends. But he hoped to bluff
his way through.
"Why accuse me of anything like this?" said he, trying to look
surprised and hurt. "We had nothing to do with those stones falling.
Their weight broke the catch off of the glass trap, and they went
through before we could stop them; didn't they, guys?" He turned to
his three flyers for support.
Crossman, Torrey, and Lane nodded their heads.
"Sure," averred Crossman.
"What did you have those stones on board for?" demanded John.
The _Clarion_ men were silent. Their leader was the first to reply.
"We got some kola nuts from the natives at one of our stops, and wanted
the stones to crack them with," stated Deveaux.
"It's a lie!" accused Paul. "Stones do not accidentally fall as
straight as those did. Pete Deveaux, you and your crowd did the best
you could to wreck us, and I'm going to take it out of your hide right
now!"
"Oh, you are, are you?" sneered the French aviator. "It seems to me
I'll have something to say about that, you young whippersnapper! If
these friends of yours will keep out of this, I'll promise my boys will
keep out, and I'll give you all the show you want."
"Fair play; that's right!" cried Mr. Shoreman, stepping forward. He
had heard enough to convince him that nothing but a fistic settlement
of the controversy would be adequate, and, with the help of several
white traders and sailors, he formed a ring.
Like lightning the word went out, and scores of natives came running up
to see the encounter. An affair of this kind just suited their
primitive instincts; it was even a greater treat than seeing an
airplane land upon their fair island.
So by the time that Paul and Pete Deveaux had thrown off their coats, a
great ring of natives surrounded them, and in its front were numerous
whites from the ships in the harbor.
Pete Deveaux was inwardly very nervous, although he was careful not to
show it. Had Paul not been so much younger, Deveaux would probably
have made some excuse to back out of the fight. As it was, he had a
sneaking hope of getting the better of Paul, now that the youth's
friends had agreed not to interfere. He also hoped to injure the boy
so badly in the encounter that he could not take his turn operating the
Sky-Bird for the rest of the journey; at least, cripple him enough to
delay his party in getting away from the island.
With these evil intents the French flyer conceived still another. He
stepped aside and whispered something in Chuck Crossman's ear, then
came back and faced Paul.
Mr. Shoreman gave the signal, and Pete Deveaux feinted and shot his
other fist savagely at Paul's eye. But the boy was wary, dodged the
blow, and struck his adversary a hard one in the chest. For a moment
Deveaux was staggered; but he quickly recovered, and once more sprang
forward.
Missing with his right, he succeeded in hitting Paul in the shoulder
with his left. Wheeling like a flash, Paul shot out a fist before the
Frenchman could recover his guard, and struck him a smash under the ear
which sent him reeling back into his friends.
Pete Deveaux was now thoroughly alarmed. He had not expected such
science, nor such force, on the part of his opponent. He approached
Paul with much more caution, amid the howls of the natives, and decided
to let him take the offensive.
Paul was willing. Encouraged by his success thus far, and bent upon
ending the fracas as soon as possible, he met his adversary with a
heavy swing which just cleared the man's ear. Deveaux struck, but
missed also. Pressed backward, he clinched to save himself, and in
this position, where nobody could see his movements, he viciously tried
to put some short jabs into Paul's abdomen.
Fortunately for himself Paul succeeded in breaking away before he was
doubled up by the blows, one of which had landed with sufficient power
to make him utter an involuntary smothered exclamation of pain.
"No more of that, Mr. Deveaux!" warned the referee suspiciously, as
Paul shoved his opponent back. "Keep out of the clinches! Fight fair!"
"Fair! Fair!" yelled the sailors; and the natives took up the cry in
their own language.
Paul now advanced, and Pete Deveaux retreated. The latter was really
frightened. Something was beginning to tell him that in this youth of
eighteen he had met his superior.
"I think we'd better quit, Ross, before we hurt each other," suggested
the French flyer cravenly. "This flight business of ours won't stand
such delays as this. We can have this out when we land in Panama."
"No, we can't have it out in Panama!" cried Paul. "Stand up if you're
a man and settle this thing right now. Watch out; I'm coming!"
By this time Pete Deveaux had retreated to the lower end of the
improvised ring. He saw that he was cornered; that he must fight once
more. Lunging forward like a trapped rat, he struck a wicked blow for
his opponent's head.
Paul parried it, and as swift as a stroke of lightning his right hand
streaked out and caught Deveaux under the jaw. The Frenchman reeled
backward a few steps, and toppled over, full length upon the ground.
What a cry went up from the onlookers! By this time the sympathies of
every one, except Deveaux's own comrades, were with the youth. No one,
even a half-civilized savage, at heart likes a coward.
For a few moments Pete Deveaux was dazed. But after his cronies had
helped him to his feet, and started away with him, he still had enough
spite left to shout back, as he shook a fist: "We're not done with you
fellows yet!"
Paul was now the recipient of congratulations from all sides.
Everybody wished to slap him on the shoulder or shake hands with him,
it seemed, and the native populace gave him so many cocoanuts, bananas,
and pineapples that he was literally hemmed in with fruit, and John,
Bob, and Tom had to open up a pathway before he could get out of his
sweet-smelling barricade.
Our flyers put as much of the gifts in the cabin of the Sky-Bird as
they could find room for, including an abundance of nuts for the happy
Grandpa, and then they turned their attention to the pressing business
of overhauling the engines and storing fuel.
While they were thus engaged, the _Clarion's_ motor was heard to start;
and a few moments later she arose and took off to sea.
"Humph!" ejaculated Tom, "those fellows have beat us to it again."
"They ought to; didn't they arrive ahead of us?" asked Tom.
"We'll be out of here in fifteen minutes more," stated John.
But the words were no more than out of his mouth when Paul, who had
been inspecting the rear end of the machine came dashing excitedly
forward, crying:
"Fellows, hob is to pay! Those rascals have cut the wire braces that
support the tail-skid, and it's lopping away over!"