A FORCED LANDING
"Hold on there, old boy! Don't let go!" begged Dick of his pet, who
swung to and fro, dangling like some grotesque pendulum over the side
of the airship. "Hold on, Grit!"
And Grit held on, you may be sure of that. His jaws were made for just
that purpose. The dog made queer gurgling noises in his throat, for he
dare not open his mouth to bark. Probably he knew just what sort of
death would await him if he dropped into the vast space below him.
"How we going to get him up?" asked Larry.
"I'll show you!" cried Dick, as he stretched out at full length on the
deck, and made his way to the edge where his head and shoulders
projected over the dizzying space. The airship was still rushing on.
"Grab his legs--somebody!" exclaimed Paul. "I'll sit on you, Dick!"
"That's right! Anchor me down, old man!" Dick cried. "I'm going to
get Grit!"
"Are you going to make a landing to save him?" asked Larry.
"No, though I would if I had to," Dick replied. "I'm just going to
haul him up by the rope. Keep a good hold, old boy!" he encouraged his
pet, and Grit gurgled his answer.
And then Dick, leaning over the edge of the deck, while Paul sat on his
backward-stretched legs to hold him in place, hauled up the bulldog
hand over hand, by means of the rope the intelligent animal had so
fortunately grasped.
Inch by inch Grit was raised until Larry, who had come to the edge to
help Dick, reached out, and helped to haul the dog in.
"There he is!" cried Dick, as he slid back.
"Well, old boy, you had a close call!"
Grit let go the rope and barked. And then a strange fit of trembling
seized him. It was the first time he had ever showed fear. He never
ventured near the edge of the deck again, always taking a position as
near the centre as possible, and lying down at full length, to prevent
any danger of sliding off. And he never went out on the deck unless
Dick went also, feeling, I suppose, that he wanted his master near in
case of accidents.
"Say, that was some little excitement," remarked the young millionaire,
as he wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. "I thought
poor old Grit was sure a goner."
"It did look so," admitted Paul. "He's an intelligent beast, all
right."
"Takes after me," laughed Dick. "Well, let's see how Innis made out
while we were at the rescue."
"I was all ready to send her down quick, if you'd given the word," said
the cadet in the pilot house, when the party went inside the cabin.
"But she's still on her course," he added, after a glance at the
compass.
"I'm glad we didn't have to go down," Dick remarked. "As we only have
two landings we can make I want to save my reserve until we are
actually forced to use it. I wonder about where we are, anyhow? Let's
make a calculation."
By figuring out the rate of speed, and comparing the elapsed time, and
then by figuring on a scale map, it was estimated, as dusk settled
down, that they were about on the border line between Pennsylvania and
Ohio.
"We'll cross the state of Ohio tonight," spoke Dick, "and by morning we
ought to be in Indiana. Not so bad, considering that we haven't really
pushed the machine to the limit yet, except in that little brush with
the other airships."
"Yes, we are doing very well," said Mr. Vardon. "I wonder how some of
our competitors are making out? I'd like to get some news of them."
"So would I," went on Dick. "Particularly my Uncle Ezra."
Had he but known it, Mr. Larabee, in his airship with Larson and the
army man, was following close after him. For really the big biplane,
with the mercury stabilizers, which Larson had constructed, was a fine
craft, and capable. That Larson had cheated Mr. Larabee out of
considerable money in the building had nothing to do with the working
of the apparatus. But of Uncle Ezra and his aircraft more later.
"We'll get some news the first landing we make," suggested Lieutenant
McBride.
"Well, I would like to get news all right," admitted Dick. "But I
don't want to go down until I have to. Now for supper. Anything you
fellows would like, especially?"
"Green turtle soup for mine!" sung out Larry.
"I'll have pickled eels' feet," laughed Innis, who had relinquished the
wheel to Mr. Vardon. "Wait a bit, Dick, and I'll drop a line overboard
and catch a few."
"And I'll see if I can't shoot a mock turtle," came from Paul.
"Nothing but roast turkey for mine," insisted Lieutenant McBride. "But
I guess we'll have to compromise on capsule soup and condensed
sandwiches."
"Oh, I can give you canned chicken," promised the young millionaire,
"and perhaps I can make it hot for you."
"Not too much tabasco sauce though, the way you dosed up the stuff for
the last Freshman dinner!" objected Paul. "I ate some of that by
mistake, and I drank nothing but iced water for a week after."
"That's right--it was a hot old time!" cried Dick, with a laugh at the
recollection.
As space was rather limited on board the airship, no ice could be
carried, and, in consequence no fresh meats were available except for
the first few hours of travel. Of course, when a landing was to be
made, another limited supply could be laid in, but, with only two
descents to earth allowed, this would not help much.
However, as the trip was going to be a comparatively short one, no one
minded the deprivation from the usual bountiful meals that, somehow,
one seemed to associate with the young millionaire.
A good supply of "capsule" food was carried. In making up his larder
Dick had consulted Lieutenant McBride, who had given him a list of the
highly nutritious and condensed food used in the army.
While such food was not the most appetizing in the world, it could be
carried in a small space, was easily prepared, and would sustain life,
and provide working energy, fully as long as the more elaborate dishes,
which contain a large amount of waste materials.
Soon the electric stove was aglow, and on it Dick got up a tasty
supper. Innis insisted on helping his chum, though it was Dick's turn
to play cook.
"You just can't keep out of the kitchen; can you?" asked Dick, of the
stout cadet. "You always want to be around where eating is going on."
"Well, the only way to be sure of a thing, is to do it yourself," said
Innis. "I would hate to have this fine appetite of mine go to waste."
It was quite dark when they sat at supper, for some slight defect
manifested itself in one of the small motors just as they were about to
eat, and it had to be repaired at once.
But, gathered about the folding table, with the electric lights aglow
overhead, there was little indication among the party of aviators that
they were in one of the most modern of skycraft, sailing a mile above
the earth, and shooting along at fifty miles an hour. So easy was the
motion of the Abaris, and so evenly and smoothly did she glide along,
due to the automatic action of the gyroscope stabilizer, that it really
seemed as if they were standing still--floating between heaven and
earth.
Of course there was the subdued hum of the great propellers outside,
and the throb of the powerful gasolene motor, but that was all that
gave an idea of the immense force contained in the airship.
From time to time Lieutenant McBride made notes for future use. He had
to report officially to the war department just how this type of
airship behaved under any and all circumstances. Then, too, he was
interested personally, for he had taken up aviation with great
enthusiasm, and as there were not many army men in it, so far, he stood
a good chance for advancement.
"The possibilities of aeroplanes in time of war are only beginning to
be understood," he said. "Of course there has been a lot of foolish
talk about them, and probably they will not be capable of doing all
that has been claimed for them, as yet. But they will be of immense
value for scouting purposes, if for nothing else. In rugged and
mountainous countries, an aviator will be under no difficulties at all,
and can, by hovering over the enemy's camp, get an idea of the
defenses, and report back.
"Thus it will be possible to map out a plan of attack with every chance
of success. There will be no time lost, and lives may be saved from
useless exposure."
"Do you think airships will ever carry light artillery, or drop bombs
on an enemy?" asked Dick.
"Well, you could carry small artillery aboard here if you didn't have
so much company," answered the army man. "It is all a question of
weight and size. However, I believe, for the present, the most
valuable aid airships will render will be in the way of scouting. But I
don't want to see a war just for the sake of using our airships.
Though it is well to be prepared to take advantage of their peculiar
usefulness."
After supper they prepared to spend their first night aboard the
airship on her prize-winning attempt. They decided to cut down the
speed a little.
"Not that there's much danger of hitting anything," Dick explained,
"though possibly Uncle Ezra and Larson might come up behind and crash
into us. But at slower speed the machinery is not so strained, and
there is less likelihood of an accident."
"That's right," agreed Mr. Vardon. "And an accident at night,
especially when most of us are asleep, is not so easily handled as when
it occurs in daylight. So slow her down, Dick."
The motor was set to take them along at thirty miles an hour, and they
descended until they were fifteen hundred feet above the earth, so in
case of the Abaris becoming crippled, she would not have to spend much
time in making a landing.
Everything was well looked to, and then, with Dick and Mr. Vardon
taking the first watch, the others turned in. And they were so tired
from the rather nervous excitement of the day of the start, that they
were soon asleep. Dick and the aviator took turns at the wheel, and
attended to the necessary adjustments of the various machines.
It might seem strange for anyone to sleep aboard a moving airship, but,
the truth of the matter was, that our friends were realty worn out with
nervous exhaustion. They had tired themselves out, not only
physically, but mentally, and sleep was really forced on them.
Otherwise they might not have slumbered at all.
It was shortly past midnight when Dick, who, in spite of his attempts
to keep awake, had partly dozed off, was suddenly aroused by a howl
from Grit.
"What--what's the matter, old boy?" he asked. "In trouble again?"
There came another and louder howl. "Where is he?" asked Mr. Vardon,
looking in from the pilot-house.
"I can't see him," Dick answered. "Can he be out on deck?"
A moment later there was a flash as of lightning, within the cabin, and
Grit mingled his howls and barks as though in great pain.
"Something's wrong!" cried the aviator. "Look about, Dick, I can't
leave the wheel. We seem to be going down!"
The young millionaire sprang up and leaped toward the place where he
had heard Grit howling. The next moment Dick laughed in a relieved
fashion.
"Where are those rubber gloves?" he asked.
"Rubber gloves?" repeated Mr. Vardon.
"Yes. Grit has gotten tangled up in the little dynamo that runs the
headlight, and he's short-circuited. He can stand more of a shock than
I can. I want to get him off the contacts. Where are the gloves?"
The aviator directed Dick to where the insulating gauntlets were kept,
and in another moment Grit was pulled away from the contact. He had
been unable to move himself, just as when one grasps the handles of a
galvanic battery the muscles become so bound as to be incapable of
motion.
Fortunately the current, while it made Grit practically helpless, for
the time, was not strong enough to burn, or otherwise injure him. He
gave a howl of protest at the accident, as Dick released him, and
shuffled off to his kennel, after fawning on his master.
"One of the wires has some of the insulation off--that's what caused
the trouble," Dick explained. "I'll wind some tape on it until we have
time to put in a new conductor."
"Grit seems to be getting the worst end of it this trip," said Paul,
who had been awakened by the commotion.
"Yes, he isn't much used to airships," agreed Dick. "But you'd better
turn in, Paul. You've got an hour yet before it's your turn at the
wheel."
"Oh, better let me have it now. I'm awake, and I can't get to sleep
again. Turn in yourself."
Which Dick was glad enough to do, as he was quite tired. The remainder
of the night passed without incident, and when morning came the airship
was put at her former speed, fifty miles an hour. That may not sound
very fast, but it must be remembered that this rate had to be kept up
for sixty hours straight, perhaps.
After breakfast the wire that had shocked Grit was renewed, and then
some observations were taken to determine their position. It was
calculated they were about halfway across Indiana by noon.
The afternoon was slowly waning, and they were preparing for their
second night of the prize trip, congratulating themselves that they had
not yet been forced to descend.
Suddenly Larry, who was at the wheel, uttered a cry of alarm.
"Something's wrong!" he shouted. "I can't steer her on the course any
longer. She's heading North instead of West."
Dick and Mr. Vardon rushed to the pilot-house. A glance at the compass
confirmed Larry's statement. The aviator himself took the wheel, but
it was impossible to head the craft West. She pointed due North.
"The horizontal rudder is out of gear!" cried Dick.
"Yes, and we'll have to go down to fix it," said Mr. Vardon, after a
quick inspection. "Boys, we've got to make our first landing! It's too
bad, but it might be worse."