THE DIRIGIBLE
The navigators of the air were almost immediately surrounded; but the
man who reached them first and extended his hand in greeting toward
that of Mr. Ogden was Major Warfield Carroll, the New York financier.
He glanced with an expression of wonder at the aviator’s passenger.
There was nothing very impressive about Major Carroll’s appearance--not
enough to cause any one to take a second look. He stood but little over
five and a half feet high, and was slight, with a closely-cropped sandy
mustache and gray-blue eyes. And it was not until he spoke that a truer
estimate of the man could be had. His eyes then seemed to fairly flash;
his quick, nervous movements, and short, jerky sentences, uttered in
a voice that vibrated with decision and energy, entirely changed his
appearance. Even the most casual of observers could recognize in him a
forceful character which nature had somehow concealed from view in his
physical make-up.
“Glad to see you, Ogden,” he said, in hearty tones. “Been expecting
you all morning. Your young friend, Bob Somers, eh? Glad to see you,
too. Never were up in an aeroplane before, I suppose? What! Many times?
Well, well; an old hand at it, then!”
“Oh, just a few days old,” laughed Bob.
“Walters told me a short time ago that a boy had telephoned from Circle
T Ranch--wanted to see our air-ship, I believe. Walters is one of my
mechanics. Were you the one? No; but belong to a crowd that is over at
the ranch, eh? Everything working all right with your new plane, Ogden?”
“Never better, Major Carroll. I think we shall be able to capture
several prizes.”
“Undoubtedly. Now, Bob, if you would like to examine the dirigible,
come along. Walters!” His voice rose in a loud call. Then he added,
quietly, “Ogden, I want to consult with you on several matters, and the
aeroplane, or, rather, this crowd of inquisitive visitors, may need a
bit of watching.”
A man in blue overalls hove into view.
Leaving the mechanician in charge, the three walked briskly toward the
curious-looking hangar. It was a wooden structure completely covering
the dirigible and closed at the ends by canvas coverings. These,
however, were now drawn aside.
Two mechanicians were hard at work, as the party entered.
“Great Scott; isn’t it a whopper!” cried Bob, surveying the huge
cigar-shaped hull which loomed high above them.
“Air-ships very much larger have been built,” said Major Carroll, “but
this--the ‘Border City’ it is called--answers my purpose sufficiently
well.”
“Have you made any flights yet?” asked Bob.
“A dozen, at least; and most of them satisfactory.”
“I can testify to that,” said Mr. Ogden.
“Perhaps a short description of the air-ship may interest you,” added
Major Carroll, “so, while Mr. Ogden and myself are conferring together,
I’ll have Kindale--he’s my chief mechanician--supply it.”
Bob thanked him.
“Yes siree; the ‘Border City’ flies like an eagle,” said Kindale, a
moment later. “How long is the balloon? About a hundred an’ fifty feet.
The diameter’s a bit less’n forty. You see, like some rowboats, one end
is sharply pointed, an’ t’other’s round, so as to give less resistance
to the air.”
As the two walked slowly along by the side of the huge air-ship Bob
Somers marveled at the knowledge and skill which had been able to
produce such a wonderful piece of work. The long car, attached to the
keel by wire cables, was completely enclosed with rubber cloth, having
mica-covered windows at the front and rear ends and an entrance in the
middle.
“The bag is made o’ several thicknesses o’ rubber-coated fabric,”
explained Kindale. “Of course you know the whole thing ain’t filled
with gas?”
“I believe the bag is divided into compartments,” said Bob.
“Sure; an’ the reason is this: cold, or air pressure, contracts the
gas, while heat, or lessening of the air pressure, causes it to
expand. Therefore, if we ascend to a very high altitude the gas
expands considerably; an’ supposin’ it’s on a blazin’ hot day--why,
then the envelope stands a good chance o’ bustin’, doesn’t it?”
“Certainly!” responded Bob.
“Well, one o’ the compartments is really a little balloon inside the
big one; an’ it’s kept filled with air by a motor--just pressure enough
to balance the pressure of the gas around it.”
“I understand,” said Bob.
“An’ when the gas in the big envelope expands it simply presses on the
little balloon, forces out some of the air through a valve, and, in
that way, gets room enough without doin’ any damage.”
“A mighty slick scheme.”
“And when the gas contracts the motor drives more air into the
balloonette, which fills out and keeps the big envelope inflated.”
“Sure thing,” remarked Bob. “It regulates the pressure, so that they
don’t have to let the gas escape.”
“That’s it, exactly! Of course, though, we’re bound to lose some
through leakage. The framework o’ the car is made of light steel
tubing. In the middle is our gasoline motor. These big screw
propellers, just abreast on either side, are worked by shafts. The
boss, if he happens to be in a good humor, may let you go aboard.”
“I only hope he will,” said Bob. “Those planes at the front and rear
ends are to maintain the vertical equilibrium, I suppose?”
“Them big words don’t faze you, I see. Yes; you’ve struck it. And the
rudder, of course, is at the rear. Wait a second; I’ll speak to the
boss.”
Kindale walked rapidly away, soon returning, his face wearing a
good-natured grin.
“It’s all right, Bob; he says you may climb aboard. Be a little
careful, for it ain’t like gettin’ in an’ out of a Pullman.”
Bob followed the mechanician up a small gangplank, and, stooping over,
managed to get inside the car. It was so dark that for a few moments
he was compelled to grope his way, guided only by the movements of
Kindale’s shadowy form in advance.
“You’ll soon be able to see,” remarked the latter, cheerfully. “Don’t
be skeered; there ain’t no holes to drop through. Kind o’ cozy, ain’t
it?”
“I should say so,” said Bob. “Must be great to fly, and have all the
comforts of home.”
His conductor laughed, and proceeded to raise several sections of the
water-proof fabric which enclosed the car. Bob saw that they wound upon
a series of rollers.
“The engine,” said Kindale, pointing it out.
“A fine one; and mighty powerful--I can see that,” returned Bob.
“It is; beats the engine of your aeroplane all hollow. In the rear we
have a place to store provisions an’ water. Come up front.”
Bob noted that everything about the car was handsomely finished, even
to several seats ranged along the sides. A small table stood near the
steering gear at the forward end.
The perfection of the “Border City’s” navigation apparatus was also
very apparent. The highly polished surfaces of wheel, compass,
chronometer and levers caught and held the rays of light which entered
from the open end of the hangar. Charts and a barometer were arranged
in convenient places. A high-power telescope was fastened to a stand
close by.
“It’s simply stunning!” cried Bob. “Not a thing lacking, I’ll bet.”
“There certainly ain’t.”
“Go up or down easily?”
“Those levers you see operate a balancing device patented by the Major.
As the weight shifts the air-ship is tilted, and the propellers do the
rest. Say, Bob, them air-skimmers ain’t in it with this.”
“It certainly is more comfortable, and you have protection from the
weather,” returned Bob, diplomatically.
“Sure! Why, it’s jim-dandy to stand here steerin’, an’ look over the
landscape. Only--the Major don’t give us no rest. Sometimes he gits
’bout seven ideas a minute; an’ jist when we’re flyin’ good he’s apt to
say, ‘Take her right down, Kindale. The whole crowd will have to hustle
to-night.’”
“Then he is still working on it?” inquired Bob.
“Still working on it! Why, man alive, he’ll never git done tinkerin’ on
it, the Major won’t--no siree. An’ if he ain’t the first man to cross
the Atlantic in a balloon I miss my guess.”
“Well, I wish him luck. Mighty nice man, isn’t he?”
“He can be,” grinned Kindale, shrugging his shoulders. “No; the ‘Border
City’ ain’t goin’ up to-day--pretty soon, though. Say, you had plenty
o’ grit to go up in that skimmer.”
“Oh, not so much--after the first time.”
“Talk about the nerve o’ them cowboys! Why, they haven’t any. We’ve
jollied them a bit, but couldn’t even get one to say he’d go up. They
make me tired.”
“Their courage is of a different kind,” laughed Bob. “Did some one
call?”
“It’s the boss. All right, Major!” yelled Kindale. “Oh, you’re welcome,
Bob. It’s easier talkin’ than workin’; I’d like to keep it up. Comin’,
Major. Wish to thunder he wasn’t always in such an awful rush.”
At the bottom of the gangplank stood Major Carroll and Mr. Ogden.
“How do you like it, young man?” asked the former.
“It’s simply great,” answered Bob, enthusiastically. “Never expected to
see anything half so fine.”
“Well, come over some day when we’re going up, and I’ll take you along
as a passenger.” And, without waiting to hear Bob’s thanks, he added,
turning to his assistant, “Kindale, I’ve got a new idea--a good one,
Mr. Ogden thinks. Come right along.”
Kindale, with something that sounded like a deep sigh, thereupon walked
abruptly away.
A couple of cow-punchers and numerous residents of Border City were
on hand to watch Mr. Ogden and his passenger take their places in the
aeroplane.
“I wouldn’t go in that thing for a million dollars,” said one of the
former.
“Get out,” grinned Walters. “Before long you’ll be steerin’ cows over
the prairie by aeroplane. Stand back, everybody!”
“I’m ready, Mr. Ogden. Good-bye, Walters!” said Bob.
The sound of the motor blended in with a volley of cheers from the
crowd. The biplane again soared aloft, and soon Border City was left
far behind.
A noisy and enthusiastic welcome greeted the navigators, as the machine
gracefully volplaned to earth and landed without accident near the
machine shop.