DICK IS WARNED
"What's the matter?"
"What happened?"
"We're falling!"
"Somebody do something!"
Everyone seemed talking at once, calling out in fear, and looking
wildly about for some escape from what seemed about to be a fatal
accident. For the Abaris was over half a mile high and was shooting
toward the earth at a terrific rate.
"Wait! Quiet, everybody!" called Dick, who had not deserted his post
at the steering wheel. "I'll bring her up. We'll volplane down!
It'll be all right!"
His calmness made his chums feel more secure, and a glance at Mr.
Vardon and his machinist aided in this. For the veteran aviator, after
a quick inspection of the machinery, no longer looked worried.
"What has happened?" asked Innis.
"Our engine stalled, for some unknown reason," answered Mr. Vardon,
quickly. "Fortunately nothing is broken. I'll see if I can't start it
with the electrical generator. Are you holding her all right, Dick?"
"I think so; yes. I can take four or five minutes more to let her down
easy."
"Well, take all the time you can. Head her up every once in a while.
It will be good practice for you. The stabilizer worked all right,
anyhow."
The airship was not on a level keel, but was inclined with her "bow"
pointed to the earth, going downward on a slant. But Dick knew how to
manage in this emergency, for many times he had practiced volplaning to
earth in ordinary biplanes.
By working the lever of the vertical rudder, he now brought the head,
or bow, of the airship up sharply, and for a moment the downward plunge
was arrested. The Abaris shot along parallel to the plane of the
earth's surface.
This operation, repeated until the ground is reached, is, as I have
already explained, called volplaning.
"Something is wrong," announced Mr. Vardon, as he yanked on the lever
of the starting motor, and turned the switch. Only the hum of the
electrical machine resulted. The gasolene motor did not "pick up,"
though both the gasolene and spark levers were thrown over.
"Never mind," counseled Dick. "I can bring her down all right. There's
really nothing more the matter than if we had purposely stopped the
motor."
"No, that's so," agreed Mr. Vardon. "But still I want to see what the
trouble is, and why it stopped. I'll try the hand starter."
But this was of no use either. The gasolene motor would not start, and
without that the propellers could not be set in motion to sustain the
big craft in the air. Mr. Vardon, and his helper, with the aid of
Innis, Paul and Larry, worked hard at the motor, but it was as
obstinate as the engine of some stalled motor-boat.
"I can't understand it," said the aviator.
"There's plenty of gasolene in the tank, and the spark is a good, fat
one. But the motor simply won't start. How you making out, Dick?"
"All right. We're going to land a considerable distance from home, but
maybe we can get her started when we reach the ground."
"We'll try, anyhow," agreed the aviator. "Is she responding all right?"
"Fine. Couldn't be better. Let some of the other boys take a hand at
it."
"Well, maybe it would be a good plan," agreed the aviator. "You never
can tell when you've got to make a glide. Take turns, boys."
"I don't think I'd better, until I learn how to run an airship that
isn't in trouble," said Larry Dexter.
"Well, perhaps not," said Mr. Vardon. "But the others may."
Meanwhile the Abaris had been slowly nearing earth, and it was this
slowness, caused by the gradual "sifting" down that would make it
possible to land her with scarcely a jar.
If you have ever seen a kite come down when the wind has died out, you
will understand exactly what this "sifting" is. It means gliding
downward in a series of acute angles.
The first alarm over, all was now serene aboard Dick's airship. The
attempt to start the motor had been given up, and under the supervision
of Mr. Vardon the two cadets, Innis and Paul, took turns in bringing
the craft down with the engine "dead." The aviator and his helper had
had experience enough at this.
"Say, this is something new, guiding as big a ship as this without
power," remarked Innis, as he relinquished the wheel to Paul.
"It sure is," said tile latter. Then, a little later, he called out:
"I say, somebody relieve me, quick. I believe I'm going to bring her
down in that creek!"
They all looked ahead and downward. The Abaris, surely enough, was
headed for a stream of water.
"Perhaps you'd better handle her," said Dick to the builder of the
craft. "We don't want her wrecked before we at least have a START
after that prize."
Mr. Vardon nodded, and took the wheel from Paul. A few seconds later
he had brought the craft to the ground within a few feet of the edge of
the stream. Had it been a wider and deeper one they could have landed
on it by using the hydroplanes, but the water seemed too shallow and
full of rocks for that evolution.
And so skillfully had Mr. Vardon manipulated the planes and levers that
the landing was hardly felt. A number of specially-made springs took
up the jar.
"Well, we're here!" exclaimed Dick, as they all breathed in relief.
"Now to see what the trouble was."
"And we've got a long walk back home, in case we can't find the
trouble," sighed Innis, for he was rather stout, and did not much enjoy
walking. They had come down several miles from Hamilton Corners.
"Oh, we'll get her fixed up somehow," declared Dick, with confidence.
Quite a throng had gathered from the little country hamlet, on the edge
of which the aircraft had descended, and they crowded up about the
Abaris, looking in wonder at her size and strange shape.
Mr. Vardon lost no time in beginning his hunt for the engine trouble,
and soon decided that it was in the gasolene supply, since, though the
tank was nearly full, none of the fluid seemed to go into the
carburetor.
"There's a stoppage somewhere," the aviator said. The fluid was drawn
off into a reserve tank and then the cause of the mischief was easily
located.
A small piece of cotton waste had gotten into the supply pipe, and
completely stopped the flow of gasolene.
"There it is!" cried the aviator, as he took it out, holding it up for
all to see.
"I wonder if anyone could have done that on purpose?" asked Dick,
looking at his chums, reflectively.
"You mean--Larson?" inquired Jack Butt. "He's capable of anything like
that."
"But he wasn't near the machine," said Paul.
"Not unless he sneaked in the barn some night," went on the machinist,
who seemed to have little regard for the former lieutenant.
"Well, there's no way of telling for certain, so we had better say
nothing about it," decided Dick. "Then, too, any of us might have
accidentally dropped the waste in the tank while we were working around
the ship. I guess we'll call it an accident."
"But it must have been in the tank for some time," argued Larry Dexter,
"and yet it only stopped up the pipe a little while ago."
"It was probably floating around in the tank, doing no damage in
particular," explained Mr. Vardon. "Then, when we made the ship tilt
that way, to test the stabilizer, the gasolene shifted, and the waste
was flushed into the pipe. But we're all right now."
This was proved a little later when the motor was started with no
trouble whatever. There was not a very good place to make a start,
along the edge of the stream, but Dick and his chums realized that they
could not always have perfect conditions, so they must learn to do
under adverse ones.
"Look out of the way!" warned the young millionaire to the assembled
crowd. They scattered from in front of the craft. The motor throbbed
and thundered up to high speed, and then the propellers were thrown
into gear. The big blades beat on the air, the ship moved slowly
forward. It acquired speed, and then, amid the wondering comments and
excited shouts of the crowd, it soared aloft, and glided through the
air to a great height.
"Off again!" cried Dick, who was at the wheel.
The trip back to Hamilton Corners was made safely, and without incident
worthy of mention. The four young men took turns in working the
various controls, so as to become familiar with them, and Dick paid
particular attention to Larry Dexter, who needed some coaching.
"I'll get a good story out of this for my paper," said the young
reporter, who was always on the lookout for "copy."
"Well, we've proved that she will fly, and take care of us even when an
accident happens," remarked Dick, when the craft had been put back in
the barn. "Now we'll groom her a bit, put on the finishing touches,
and we'll be ready to try for that prize. The time is getting short
now."
"I hope you win it," said Mr. Vardon. "I shall feel responsible, in a
way, if you don't."
"Nothing of the sort!" cried Dick. "Whatever happens, I've got a fine
airship, and we'll have a good time, even if we don't get the twenty
thousand dollars."
The next week was a busy one, for there were several little matters
about the airship that needed attention. But gradually it was made as
nearly perfect as possible.
Then, one morning, Mr. Hamilton, who had some business to transact with
Uncle Ezra, said to Dick:
"Could you take a run over there and leave him these securities? He
asked me to get them for him out of the safe deposit box. I don't know
what he wants of them, but they are his, and I have no time to take
them to him myself. You can go in your airship, if you like, and give
him a surprise."
"No, I think I'll go in the auto. Mr. Vardon is making a change in the
motor, and it isn't in shape to run today. I'll take the boys over to
Dankville in the small car."
A little later Dick and his chums were on their way to Uncle Ezra's.
They reached Dankville in good time, but, on calling at the house, Aunt
Samantha told them her husband was at the woolen mill.
"We'll go down there and see him," decided Dick, after talking to his
aunt a little while. She had been looking in the parlor to see that,
by no chance, had a glint of light gotten in. Of late her husband and
his airship-partner, Larson, had not used the "best room," and so Aunt
Samantha's fears about the carpet being spoiled by cigar ashes had
subsided.
At the factory Dick was directed, by a foreman, to an unused wing of
the building.
"You'll find your uncle in there," the man said to Dick. "He's
building an airship!"
"A what!" cried the young millionaire in great astonishment, for he had
been too busy, of late, to hear any news from Dankville.
"An airship--a biplane, I believe they're called," the foreman went on.
"Well, I'll be gum-swizzled!" cried Dick, faintly. "Come on, fellows.
The world must be coming to an end, surely."
As he started to enter the part of the factory whither he had been
directed, his uncle, plainly much excited, came out.
"Stop where you be, Nephew Richard!" he warned. "Don't come in here!
Stay back!"
"Why, what in the world is the matter?" asked Dick. "Is something
going to blow up?"