"Andy!" shouted John Parks in a transport of amazement.
"It's me," panted Andy, running up to his employer and pointing at
Tyrrell. "Mr. Parks, stop that man. He's a traitor; he's a villain!"
Tyrrell had heard and seen Andy. He gave a great start. Then he made a
move as if to hasten aboard the airship and get out of his way. Mr.
Morse and the Japanese hastened forward. The men guiding the aeroplane
stared hard at the newcomer.
"Andy, what do you mean?" demanded Mr. Parks, lost in wonderment.
"Just what I say. Don't let him get aboard."
"Hold on, Tyrrell," ordered the aeronaut.
"We'll lose the start," spoke Tyrrell hurriedly.
"Don't you get aboard."
"No, sah; yo' just obey Mistah Parks, suh," interposed Scipio, laying a
great hindering hand on the arm of Tyrrell.
"I have been a prisoner in the Duske camp since yesterday," explained
Andy, catching his breath. "This man Tyrrell came there last night. He
is in the employ of Duske."
"What!" shouted Parks, his face growing dark.
"It's true, Mr. Parks," asseverated Andy. "They are in a plot to burn
the _Racing Star_ and have you lose the prize."
"Do you hear what this boy says?" thundered the aeronaut, moving down on
Tyrrell with threatening mien.
"It's--it's not true," declared Tyrrell, but turning pale, shrinking
back, and looking about him for a chance to run.
"If you don't believe me," cried Andy, "search him."
Scipio held Tyrrell's arm in a viselike clasp. Parks ran his hand over
his clothing. He drew from his pocket a parcel done up in a
handkerchief. Mr. Morse took it, opened it, and revealed a bottle filled
with some substance like kerosene, a small box of matches and some lint.
Quick as a flash the hand of the aeronaut shot out for the throat of
Tyrrell.
"You treacherous scoundrel!" he shouted.
Boom!
"The third gun! They're off, Mr. Parks," cried Andy. "Oh, don't let the
_Racing Star_ miss it."
"What can I do?"
"Send me. Men, get ready. Mr. Parks, I'll win this race!"
Andy was in no trim physically or in attire to attempt the race. At a
glance the aeronaut saw this. But our hero was irresistible. He ran
towards the machine, and with nimble movements he glided among the
planes and reached the operator's seat. Already the other airships were
sailing skywards.
"Go!" shouted Andy.
Upon the operator's seat lay the skull cap and goggles, ready for
Tyrrell, and Andy hastily donned them. He heard the voice of Parks, now
as excited as himself, giving orders, a tacit consent to make the start.
There was a run of scarcely a hundred feet along the grass. Andy placed
a firm hand on the wheel. Then came a series of curves and sweeping
arcs, which kept the crowd of spectators turning first one way and then
the other in entranced silence.
The young aviator followed the popping of the motors of the contestant
machines. One was fast becoming a mere speck in the sky.
"The _Moon Bird_, Duske's machine," murmured Andy.
It seemed poised in the air without motion, so direct was its course, so
true its mechanism. Two of the other airships had already descended, one
of them wrecked and out of the race. The forty-foot mechanical bird, the
Duske machine, however, had made the lead and kept it.
The climax came in Andy's preliminary ascent. Now the _Racing Star_,
light and dainty as a lark, mounted with amazing speed. A glance at
three of the airships convinced Andy that they were too faulty to make a
record. The _Moon Bird_, however, was a marvel. From what he had heard
Mr. Parks say, Duske had been an expert balloonist, and he now showed
amazing ability in the aviation line. He seemed to be putting the stolen
airship idea to marked advantage.
Andy struck a level about fifteen hundred feet in the air. There was a
head wind, but it was not strong. Andy put on fine speed gradually. The
_Racing Star_ passed two of the contestants, and, fully in action, he
drove keen on the trail of the _Moon Bird_.
The train that acted as a pilot with an American flag on its last car,
Andy kept in view as a guide. When they came to Lake Clear, the _Moon
Bird_ did not follow the rounding land course, nor did Andy. Lake Clear
was a shallow body of water, but of considerable extent, and dotted here
and there with little islands.
Suddenly the _Moon Bird_, a machine of good utility, but, as Andy knew,
of little lasting power, made a decided spurt, passed the _Racing Star_,
and at a distance of half a mile got fairly abreast of the lake. It was
here that Duske met his Waterloo. Hitherto he had maintained practically
a steady course. More than once Andy had got near enough to this rival
to hear the loud gasping of the tube exhausts drown out the sharp
chug-chug of the motor. Suddenly Duske made a sharp turn.
An appalling climax followed. In consternation and suspense Andy watched
aerial evolutions that fairly dizzied him.
"He is lost!" breathed Andy, a-thrill.
In an instant he recalled what Mr. Morse had told him of the unfinished
model that Duske and his crowd had stolen from him. The inventor had
explained to Andy that while the suction principle involved in the
rudder construction was unique and bound to increase speed, there should
have been added automatic caps to close the rear ends of the suction
tubes where a curve was attempted.
Of this Duske evidently knew nothing. The moment he turned the machine,
however, there was a whirl. The aeroplane described a dive, then a
somersault. Its lateral planes collapsed, and, tipping from side to
side, it began to descend with frightful velocity.
Once it half righted, balanced, went over again, and, fifty feet from
the ground, shot clear of a little islet, and went down in the water of
the lake, a wreck, first spilling Duske out.
"He is killed or stunned!" exclaimed Andy.
The boy aviator saw the other airships forging ahead, indifferent to the
accident. Minutes counted in the sixty-mile race to Springfield and back
to the starting point, but Andy was humane. He saw clearly that, if
alive, the half-submerged Duske would be suffocated in a few minutes'
time.
"I can't leave him to die," murmured Andy, and sent the _Racing Star_ on
a sharp slant, landing on the island.
Andy was soon out of the airship. He waded to the spot where Duske lay,
and dragged him bodily up on dry land. As he turned him on his face,
Andy knew from its purple hue, the lifeless limbs and choked gasps of
the man, that another minute in the water would have been his last.
A boat put out from the mainland where a crowd of spectators was
watching the race. Four men jumped out as the island was reached.
"Take care of this man," ordered Andy.
"You're a pretty fair fellow to risk losing the race to save a
competitor," spoke one of the men heartily.
He and his companions followed Andy's instructions the best they could
in starting the _Racing Star_, and Andy shot skywards again, making up
for lost time.