THE WRECK
"What do they mean?"
"What's their game, anyhow?"
"They'll ram us if they don't look out!"
"Maybe they've lost control of her!"
"Dick, if that's your uncle, tell him to watch where he's going!"
Thus cried those aboard the aircraft of the young millionaire as they
watched the oncoming of the rival craft. She was certainly coming
straight at them. It was intentional, too, for Mr. Vardon, who was at
the wheel of the Abaris, quickly changed her course when he saw what
was about to happen, and the other pilot could have had plenty of room
to pass in the air.
Instead he altered his direction so as to coincide with that of Dick's
craft.
"They must be crazy!"
"If they'll hit us we'll go to smash, even if she is a lighter machine
than ours!"
Thus cried Paul and Innis as they stood beside Dick.
"It's my Uncle Ezra, all right," murmured the wealthy youth. "I can
recognize him now, in spite of his helmet and goggles. But what in the
world is he up to, anyhow? He can't really mean to ram us, but it does
look so."
The two airships were now but a short distance apart, and in spite of
what Mr. Vardon could do, a collision seemed inevitable. The fact of
the matter was that the Larabee, being smaller and lighter, answered
more readily to her rudders than did the Abaris.
"We've got to have more speed, Dick!" called the aviator. "I'm going
to turn about and go down. It's the only way to get out of their way.
They're either crazy, or bent on their own destruction, as well as
ours. Give me more speed, Dick! All you can!"
"All right!" answered the young millionaire. "We'll do our best to get
out of your way, Uncle Ezra!"
As Dick hastened to the motor-room, Grit trotted after him, growling in
his deep voice at the mention of the name of the man he so disliked.
Dick realized the emergency, and turned the gasolene throttle wide
open. With a throb and a roar, the motor took up the increase, and
whirled the big propellers with mighty force.
Then, in a last endeavor to prevent the collision, Mr. Vardon sent the
craft down at a sharp slant, intending to dive under the other.
But this move was anticipated by Larson, who was steering the Larabee.
He, too, sent his craft down, but just when a collision seemed about to
take place, it was prevented by Mr. Vardon, who was a more skillful
pilot.
The propellers of the Abaris worked independently, on a sort of
differential gear, like the rear wheels of an automobile. This enabled
her to turn very short and quickly, by revolving one propeller in one
direction, and one in the opposite, as is done with the twin screws of
a steamer.
And this move alone prevented what might have been a tragedy. But it
was also the cause of a disaster to Dick's aircraft.
With a rush and a roar the Larabee passed over the Abaris as she was so
suddenly turned, and then something snapped in the machinery of the big
airship. She lost speed, and began to go down slightly.
"Did they hit us?" cried Dick, in alarm.
"No, but we've broken the sprocket chain on the port propeller,"
answered Mr. Vardon.
"We'll have to be content with half speed until we can make repairs.
Come now, everybody to work. Those crazy folks may come back at
us--that is begging your pardon for calling your uncle crazy, Dick."
"You can't offend me that way. He MUST be crazy to act the way he did.
I can't understand it. Of course Larson was steering, but my uncle
must have given him orders to do as he did, and try to wreck us."
"I shall report whoever the army man was that did not make an attempt
to stop their attack on us," declared Lieutenant McBride, bitterly. "I
don't know who was assigned to the Larabee, but he certainly ought to
be court-martialed."
"Perhaps no army representative was aboard at all," suggested Paul.
"There were three persons on the airship," said Larry. "I saw them."
"And the race would not be counted unless an army representative was
aboard," declared Lieutenant McBride. "So they would not proceed
without one. No, he must have been there, and have entered into their
plot to try and wreck us. I can't understand it!"
"They've evidently given it up, whatever their game was," called Innis.
"See, there they go!"
He pointed to the other airship, which was now some distance away,
going on at good speed, straight for San Francisco. Both craft were
now high in the air, in spite of the drop made by the Abaris, and they
were about over some of the mountains of Colorado now; just where they
had not determined. They were about eight hundred miles from San
Francisco, as nearly as they could calculate.
"They're trying to get in first," said Dick. "Maybe, after all, they
just wanted to frighten us, and delay us."
"Well, if that was their game they've succeeded in delaying us," said
Mr. Vardon, grimly. "We're reduced to half speed until we get that
propeller in commission again. There's work for all of us. Reduce
sped, Dick, or we may tear the one good blade off the axle."
With only half the resistance against it, the motor was now racing
hard. Dick slowed it down, and then the work of repairing the broken
sprocket chain and gear was undertaken.
It was not necessary to stop the airship to do this. In fact to stop
meant to descend, and they wanted to put that off as long as possible.
They still had the one permitted landing to their credit.
The propellers, as I have said, could be reached from the open deck,
and thither Mr. Vardon, Dick, and Lieutenant McBride took themselves,
while Paul, Innis and Larry would look after the progress of the craft
from the pilot-house and motor-room.
Slowly Dick's airship went along, just enough speed being maintained to
prevent her settling. She barely held her own, while, far ahead of
her, and fast disappearing in the distance, could be seen the other
craft--that carrying Uncle Ezra.
"I guess it's all up with us," murmured Paul, as he went to the wheel.
"No, it isn't!" cried Dick. "I'm not going to give up yet! We can
still make time when we get the repairs made, and I'll run the motor
until her bearings melt before I give up!"
"That's the way to talk!" cried the army man. "And we're all with you.
There's a good chance yet, for those fellows must be desperate, or
they'd never have tried what they did. My opinion is that they hope to
reach San Francisco in a last dash, and they were afraid we'd come in
ahead of them. But I can't understand how that army man aboard would
permit such a thing. It is past belief!"
It was no easy task to make the repairs with the airship in motion.
Spare parts, including a sprocket chain, were carried aboard, but the
work had to be done close to the other revolving propeller, and, as
slowly as it was whirling about, it went fast enough to cause instant
death to whoever was hit by it. So extreme caution had to be used.
To add to the troubles it began to rain violently, and a thunderstorm
developed, which made matters worse. Out in the pelting storm, with
electrically-charged clouds all about them, and vivid streaks of
lightning hissing near them, the aviators worked.
They were drenched to the skin. Their hands were bruised and cut by
slipping wrenches and hammers. Their faces were covered with black
grease, dirt and oil. But still they labored on. The storm grew
worse, and it was all the Abaris could do to stagger ahead, handicapped
as she was by half power.
But there were valiant hearts aboard her, and everyone was imbued with
indomitable courage.
"We're going to do it!" Dick cried, fiercely, and the others echoed his
words.
Finally, after many hours of work, the last rivet was driven home, and
Mr. Vardon cried:
"There we are! Now then, full speed ahead!"
The repaired propeller was thrown into gear. It meshed perfectly, and
once more the Abaris shot ahead under her full power.
"Speed her up!" cried Dick, and the motor was put to the limit. But
much precious time had been lost. Could they win under such adverse
circumstances? It was a question each one asked himself.
Darkness came on, and the tired and weary aviators ate and slept. The
night passed, a clear, calm night, for the storm had blown itself out.
High over the mountains soared the airship through the hours of
darkness. She was fighting to recover what she had lost.
And when morning came they calculated they were but a few hundred miles
from San Francisco.
Paul, who had gone to the pilot-house to relieve Innis, gave a startled
cry.
"Look! Look!" he shouted. "There's the other airship!"
And as the others looked they saw, ahead of them, emerging from the
midst of a cloud, Uncle Ezra's speedy craft. And, as they looked, they
saw something else--something that filled them with horror.
For, as they gazed at the craft which had so nearly, either by accident
or design, wrecked them, they saw one of the big side planes crumple
up, as does a bird's broken wing. Either the supports had given way,
or a sudden gust of air strained it too much.
"They're falling!" cried Dick, hoarsely.
The other airship was. The broken plane gave no support on that side,
and as the motor still raced on, whirling the big propellers, the
Larabee, unevenly balanced, in spite of the mercury stabilizers, tilted
to one side.
Then, a hopeless wreck, she turned over and plunged downward toward the
earth. Her race was over.