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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-07 01:23:25 -0800 |
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diff --git a/old/54579-h/54579-h.htm b/old/54579-h/54579-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 31ff7c1..0000000 --- a/old/54579-h/54579-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8014 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Stolen Aeroplane, by Ashton Lamar—A Project Gutenberg eBook. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -/* DACSoft styles */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -/* General headers */ -h1{ - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -/* Chapter headers */ -h2 { - text-align: center; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5em; -} - -/* Indented paragraph */ -p { - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-align: justify; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -/* Unindented paragraph */ -.noi { text-indent: 0em; } - -/* Centered unindented paragraph */ -.noic { - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Drop caps */ -p.cap { text-indent: 0em; } - -p.cap:first-letter { - float: left; - padding-right: 3px; - font-size: 250%; - line-height: 83%; -} - -/* Non-standard paragraph margins */ -.p2 { margin-top: 2em; } -.p6 { margin-top: 6em; } - -.pad2 { - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; -} - -.padl9 { - padding-left: 9em; -} - -/* Horizontal rules */ -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} - -hr.r15 { - width: 15%; - margin-left: 42.5%; - margin-right: 42.5%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; -} - -/* Lists */ -ul { list-style-type: none; } - -li { - margin-top: 1em; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-left: 0em; -} - -/* Tables */ -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -/* Table cell alignments */ -.tdl {text-align: left;} - -.tdrb { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: bottom; -} - -.tdrt { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: top; -} - -th { - font-weight: normal; -} - -/* Physical book page and line numbers */ -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - right: 3%; -/* left: 92%; */ - font-size: x-small; - text-align: right; - color: gray; -} /* page numbers */ - -/* Blockquotes */ -.blockquot { - margin-top: 1em; - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-bottom: 1em; -} - -/* Alignment */ -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Text appearance */ -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -/* Small fonts and lowercase small-caps */ -.smfont { - font-size: .8em; -} - -.smfontr { - font-size: .75em; - text-align: right; -} - -/* Illustration caption */ -.caption { - font-size: .75em; - font-weight: bold; -} - -/* Images */ -img { - max-width: 100%; /* no image to be wider than screen or containing div */ - height:auto; /* keep height in proportion to width */ -} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - max-width: 100%; /* div no wider than screen, even when screen is narrow */ -} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.tnote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - padding-bottom: .5em; - padding-top: .5em; - padding-left: .5em; - padding-right: .5em; -} - -.tntitle { - font-size: 1.25em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Title page borders and content. */ -.title { - font-size: 1.75em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.halftitle { - font-size: 1.75em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.subtitle { - font-size: 1.5em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.author { - font-size: 1.25em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Advertisement formatting. */ -.adtitle { - font-size: 1.5em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.adtitle2 { - font-size: 1.5em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.adauthor { - font-size: 1.25em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Hanging indent. */ -.hang { - text-indent: -4em; - padding-left: 5em; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Stolen Aeroplane, by Ashton Lamar - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Stolen Aeroplane - or, How Bud Wilson Made Good - -Author: Ashton Lamar - -Illustrator: M. G. Gunn - -Release Date: April 20, 2017 [EBook #54579] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOLEN AEROPLANE *** - - - - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="550" height="834" alt="cover" title="cover" /> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="noic">The Aeroplane Boys Series</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<p class="noi halftitle">The Stolen Aeroplane</p> - -<p class="noic">OR</p> - -<p class="noi subtitle">How Bud Wilson Made Good</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="noi adtitle"><a id="ad1">The Aeroplane Boys Series</a></p> - -<p class="noic">By ASHTON LAMAR</p> - -<ul> -<li class="hang">I. IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM<br /> -Or, Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps.</li> - -<li class="hang">II. THE STOLEN AEROPLANE<br /> -Or, How Bud Wilson Made Good.</li> - -<li class="hang">III. THE BOY AVIATOR’S GRIT<br /> -Or, The Aeroplane Express.</li> - -<li class="hang">IV. THE BOY AVIATORS’ CLUB<br /> -Or, Flying For Fun.</li> -</ul> - -<p class="noic">OTHER TITLES TO FOLLOW</p> - -<p class="noi">These stories are the newest and most up-to-date. All aeroplane details -are correct. Fully illustrated. Colored frontispiece. Cloth, 12mos.</p> - -<p class="noic">Price, 60c Each.</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<p class="noi adtitle">The Airship Boys Series</p> - -<p class="noic">By H. L. SAYLER</p> - -<ul> -<li class="hang">I. THE AIRSHIP BOYS<br /> -Or, The Quest of the Aztec Treasure.</li> - -<li class="hang">II. THE AIRSHIP BOYS ADRIFT<br /> -Or, Saved by an Aeroplane.</li> - -<li class="hang">III. THE AIRSHIP BOYS DUE NORTH<br /> -Or, By Balloon to the Pole.</li> - -<li class="hang">IV. THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN BARREN LANDS<br /> -Or, The Secret of the White Eskimos.</li> -</ul> - -<p class="noi">These thrilling stories deal with the wonderful new science of aerial -navigation. Every boy will be interested and instructed by reading -them. Illustrated. Cloth binding. Price, $1.00 each.</p> - -<p class="p2 noic">The above books are sold everywhere or will be sent -postpaid on receipt of price by the</p> - -<p class="noic">Publishers <span class="adauthor">The Reilly & Britton Co.</span> Chicago</p> - -<p class="noic"><i>Complete catalog sent, postpaid, on request</i></p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 404px;"> -<a id="image01"> - <img src="images/image01.jpg" width="404" height="600" alt="" title="" /> -</a><br /> -<div class="caption">“<span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_184">Stop! In the Name of the Law!</a></span>”</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h1>The Stolen<br /> -Aeroplane</h1> - -<p class="noic">OR</p> - -<p class="noi subtitle">How Bud Wilson Made Good</p> - -<p class="p2 noic">BY</p> - -<p class="noi author">ASHTON LAMAR</p> - -<div class="pad2"> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="150" height="150" - alt="The AEROPLANE BOYS SERIES" - title="The AEROPLANE BOYS SERIES" /> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noic">Illustrated by M. G. Gunn</p> - -<p class="p2 noic adauthor">Chicago</p> - -<p class="noic adauthor">The Reilly & Britton Co.</p> - -<p class="noic adauthor">Publishers</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="noic">COPYRIGHT, 1910,</p> - -<p class="noic">by</p> - -<p class="noic adauthor">THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.</p> - -<p class="noic">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> - - -<p class="p6 noic">THE STOLEN AEROPLANE</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<col style="width: 10%;" /> -<col style="width: 80%;" /> -<col style="width: 10%;" /> -<tr> - <th class="smfontr">CHAP.</th> - <th class="tdl"></th> - <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">I</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">An Idle Boy Gets a Job</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">9</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">II</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">The Hero of the Gravel Pit</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">21</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">III</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Scottsville’s Fair Secures an Aviator</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">33</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">IV</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">A Midnight Lunch</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">44</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">V</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Madame Zecatacas Reads the Future</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">57</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VI</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The Gypsy Queen’s Talisman</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">70</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VII</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">A Foolhardy Trick in an Aeroplane</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">84</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VIII</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Amateur Versus Professional</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">95</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">IX</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Bud Makes a Strange Contract</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">106</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">X</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">The Flight in the Dark</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">117</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XI</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Dumped into the Marsh</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">131</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XII</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">The Romney Ring Brings News</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">143</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIII</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">A Unique Starting Device</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">155</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIV</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">An Exhibition Under Difficulties</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">169</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XV</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">The Enemy Outwitted Once More</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">182</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVI</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Bud Discovers a Friend</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">197</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVII</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">The Private Office of the First National Bank</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">211</td> -</tr> -</table> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> -<col style="width: 80%;" /> -<col style="width: 20%;" /> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#image01">“Stop! In the name of the law!”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#image02">Bud bargains for coffee.</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">53</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#image03">The start from the flume.</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">165</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#image04">Mr. Camp drew out an envelope.</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">201</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noi halftitle">The Stolen Aeroplane</p> - -<p class="noic">OR,</p> - -<p class="noi subtitle">How Bud Wilson Made Good</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> -<small>AN IDLE BOY GETS A JOB.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Here she comes.”</p> - -<p>Doug’ Jackson, the driver of the Scottsville -House ’bus, rose from the edge of the depot platform, -hitched up his trousers, and motioned the -usual depot loungers back to safety. All were -waiting for passenger train No. 22, west bound, -due at 11:15 A. M., and late, as usual.</p> - -<p>“She’s made up seven minutes,” Doug’ announced -authoritatively after consulting a large -silver watch. “She’s fannin’—git back there, -you kids.”</p> - -<p>No one else yet saw or heard the approaching -train, whose proximity was only detected by -Doug’s long experience in such matters; but all -necks were craned toward the grade east of town -and the curve at its far end.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> - -<p>One of these anxious watchers was Mr. Josiah -Elder, a man just beyond middle age, who -shaved every morning down to a round patch of -whiskers on a prolonged chin, and whose white -starched shirt and heavy gold watch chain proclaimed -him a person of affairs. Just at present, -a heavy coat of dust on a new, black, soft hat -and on his dark trousers suggested that the -morning had been spent out of doors, where the -September drought had coated the town and -country with suffocating dust.</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder was president of the Scottsville -First National Bank. He was also president of -the Scott County Joint Stock Agricultural and -Trotting Association. And this was Wednesday -morning of fair week. The president was hot, -dusty, and had an anxious look.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Mr. Elder,” exclaimed Doug’ hastily, -lifting his cap with his badge as “runner” on it, -and glancing hastily along the track to be sure -that his announcement had not been premature. -“Train’ll be here right away.”</p> - -<p>“Morning,” replied the anxious fair official, -looking toward a dusty, side-bar buggy and a -lively looking horse hitched just beyond the ’bus. -“Keep your eye on my rig, Doug’.”</p> - -<p>Just then a hollow whistle sounded far up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -track, and a moment later, beneath a puff of -white steam that drifted around the curve, a billow -of black smoke told that No. 22 was “fanning” -down grade toward the town.</p> - -<p>“I’m lookin’ for a man named Dare—T. Glenn -Dare. If you see him, he ain’t goin’ to the hotel. -He’s goin’ with me.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the prospec’s fur fair week?” asked -Doug’, indicating that he understood. “I reckon -that airship’ll bring out a fine attendance ’bout -Thursday.”</p> - -<p>“We hope so,” replied Mr. Elder impressively. -“It is a novel attraction of great educational -value. And it is an expensive feature. -The people o’ Scott County should recognize our -enterprise and turn out liberally.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon it’s goin’ to kind o’ crowd you to git -everything in shape on time, ain’t it? All the -boxes and the injine is over there in the freight -house yit.”</p> - -<p>“We are waiting for Mr. Dare. He’s the manufacturer’s -agent and operator.”</p> - -<p>The oncoming train was already pounding -over the switch track frogs at the town limits. -Doug’ mustered up his courage, crowded a little -closer to the disturbed fair official and exclaimed, -nervously:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<p>“All right, Mr. Elder, I’ll keep my eye out fur -him. And your rig’ll be all safe. Say, Mr. -Elder, you couldn’t spare me a ticket fur the -fair, could ye?”</p> - -<p>But this appeal was lost. The mogul engine, -hissing as if annoyed at its enforced stop in -Scottsville, slid to a grinding stop, panted a few -times, and then with a sharp clang of its bell and -a deep snort, was off again. The crowd, always -anxious to see the train come in, edged forward, -fell back and grouped itself about a dozen arrivals. -Two traveling men, or “drummers,” -Doug’ captured. The others were either not -strangers to the depot crowd or easily identified -by their luggage and costume as visitors from -near by towns. Mr. T. Glenn Dare was not -among those who alighted.</p> - -<p>Having made sure of this fact, President -Elder’s strained look at once turned into one of -complete annoyance.</p> - -<p>“I reckon yer man didn’t git here,” remarked -the talkative ’bus driver. “Maybe he’ll -be on seventeen.”</p> - -<p>One look at the official’s face convinced Doug’ -that it was not the time to renew his request for -a free ticket. Mr. Elder hurried into the depot, -and with no attempt to restrain his anger, called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -up the ticket office of the fair association on the -telephone.</p> - -<p>To some one, he rapidly explained that Mr. T. -Glenn Dare, the expert who was to set up and -operate the aeroplane for the fair directors had -not arrived. The boxed and crated airship had -been in the depot freight house for a week. It -was now Tuesday of the week of the fair, and a -flight had been advertised for Wednesday afternoon -at three o’clock. Operator Dare, who was -to make this at the rate of fifty dollars a day, -had been expected Tuesday morning.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” answered the president to the -person with whom he had been talking, “we’ve -saved one hundred dollars, but that ain’t it. -We’ve got to exhibit our aeroplane to-morrow, -or let the people know we can’t. We’ve paid -one thousand eight hundred dollars in good -money for the thing, and it ain’t worth a nickel -to us over there in the freight depot.”</p> - -<p>There was more talk, and then President Elder -ended the conversation by announcing:</p> - -<p>“There isn’t any use to haul the boxes out to -the ground, if the man don’t come. We’ll wait -until the night train. If he ain’t on that, we’ll -send out bills callin’ the show off. Then we’ll -ship the machine back East and sue the company<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -for failure to keep its contract. They agreed to -have a competent man here, and they’ve thrown -us down.”</p> - -<p>As the perspiring Mr. Elder came out of the -hot ticket-office of the musty-smelling station -and paused on the platform to wipe his red face, -his eye fell on the freight-house across the tracks -from the station. He glanced at his horse to see -that it was all right, and then sprang across to -the freight-depot. He had not yet seen the valuable -crates consigned to him. The freight-agent -had already gone to dinner. Entering the long -shed, he glanced inquiringly about. It was half -dark.</p> - -<p>“Lookin’ for your aeroplane, Mr. Elder?” -exclaimed a pleasant boyish voice from somewhere -in the gloom.</p> - -<p>The banker and fair president traced the -sounds to their source. At the far end of the -room and opposite a rear door stood a mound of -carefully packed and braced skeleton-like -frames. On the edge of a heavy square box -bound with steel bands, sat a boy of perhaps -seventeen or eighteen. Although it was hot, the -lad was wearing a heavy blue flannel shirt, a red -neck tie, and a cheap, sailor hat. His low shoes -were worn and old, and his socks gave signs of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -needing a mother’s care. He was slowly fanning -himself with a big blue handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“If you are,” added the boy, springing to his -feet, “here it is; and it looks like the real thing.”</p> - -<p>Instead of examining the aeroplane crates, -Mr. Elder’s eye swept the boy from hat to shoes.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you Bud Wilson?” he asked at last.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Attorney Cyrus Stockwell is my -foster father.”</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” rejoined the banker tartly. -“I’ve heard of you. Lafe Pennington, of our -bank, has told me about you.”</p> - -<p>The boy laughed—he had already taken off -his discolored hat.</p> - -<p>“Then you didn’t hear much good about me, -that’s certain.”</p> - -<p>“No,” soberly answered the elder man, “to -tell you the truth, I’ve never heard much good -about you.”</p> - -<p>The boy laughed again, but in an embarrassed -way, showed his confusion, and then said:</p> - -<p>“Lafe and I never got along. But, he may be -right. I’ve got a bad name.”</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here? You are old -enough to be at work.”</p> - -<p>“That’s it,” went on Bud, “I ought to be. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -have a job promised me when I want it, out in -the country. But I’ve been waitin’ to see this.”</p> - -<p>He pointed toward the dismantled airship.</p> - -<p>“What do you want to see? You haven’t any -business loafing in here. Have you been monkeyin’ -with the machinery?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I know ’em around here. And I ain’t -hurt nothing. No fear o’ that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what’s your interest?”</p> - -<p>“I want to see it. I’ve been waiting every -day since it came. I want to be here when you -move it. I want to help unpack it.”</p> - -<p>“You? What do you know about aeroplanes?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing—that is, almost nothing. But I -guess I know a little. You know I ran Mr. Greeley’s -automobile nearly all summer. I understand -motors. And—well, I do know something -about aeroplanes. I tried to make one this summer.”</p> - -<p>A look of sudden interest showed in the banker’s -face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I remember now, you are the youngster -that nearly broke his neck trying to fly.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose Lafe Pennington told that,” -answered Bud, looking up. “Well, I didn’t. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -fell, but I lit on my feet, and I didn’t even harm -my aeroplane.”</p> - -<p>President Elder was looking over the big -crates, and peering through the frames. Suddenly, -he turned to Bud again.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by <em>your</em> aeroplane?”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t really an aeroplane. That is, I -didn’t have an engine; but I made the wings; -and I flew one hundred and fifty feet in them, -too, out at Greeley’s gravel pit.”</p> - -<p>“Then you know how an aeroplane is made?”</p> - -<p>“I think I do. They are all pretty much alike. -When I see this one, I’ll know a lot more.”</p> - -<p>An idea was plainly working in President -Elder’s brain. He made a searching examination -of the lad before him. Then he asked:</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you and Lafe Pennington work on -this airship idea together?”</p> - -<p>Bud laughed outright.</p> - -<p>“Hardly,” he answered, “Lafe wouldn’t -work with any one. He knows too much. I -worked alone.”</p> - -<p>President Elder looked at his watch. It was -just noon.</p> - -<p>“Do you think you could put this airship together?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, I put my own together.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Bud, meet me here at one o’clock. I may -have a job for you.”</p> - -<p>While the banker’s smart rig went clattering -up the brick street, Bud started for home on a -run.</p> - -<p>Long before one o’clock, Bud was at the -freight-house again. In a short time, a dray and -an express wagon appeared. About the time -that a large farm wagon, drawn by two horses, -came in sight, Mr. Elder reappeared. In the -buggy with him was the young man referred to -several times by Mr. Elder and Bud an hour before—Lafe -Pennington. As they sprang from the -vehicle, Bud was on the freight-house platform. -Lafe passed the boy with a condescending smile; -but Mr. Elder stopped.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” he began, “I had a kind of a notion -that I had a job for you, but I guess that’s all -off.”</p> - -<p>“I hoped you had. I hurried back.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s this way. I forgot that our clerk, -Mr. Pennington, had some knowledge of aeroplanes. -We are in a sort of a box, and after I -talked to you, I decided to try to get this machine -ready. The man who ought to do it isn’t here. -Even if he comes to-night, he won’t have time to -set it up. So, while I talked to you, I decided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -to try to put it together and have it ready when -he came. I was going to get you to help.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t I?” asked the boy eagerly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think we’ll need you now. I’ve got -Mr. Pennington. He says he can do it without -any trouble. And you know he’s in the bank, -and I know him. He’s one of our clerks.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon he can do it, perhaps,” answered -Bud in a disappointed tone, “but I’d like to help -too. I’d work for nothing.”</p> - -<p>“I suggested that, but Mr. Pennington says -he’d rather work alone.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder was about to pass on when Bud -touched his sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Elder,” he said, “Lafe said that because -he knew I was the only person in Scottsville who -could help. I haven’t anything against Lafe, -but you ought to know the facts—I know more -about aeroplanes than he does. He may be able -to do what you want, and he may not. You may -think I’m knocking Lafe, but I’m not. I’m -just giving you the truth: he thinks he knows -more about airships than he really does.”</p> - -<p>“You seem to feel sure you know it all,” almost -sneered the banker.</p> - -<p>“I should say not,” answered the boy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -promptly. “I know hardly anything, and Lafe -knows less.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if we get stuck, I suppose we can call -on you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be right there, waiting.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw,” exclaimed the banker laughing, -“we need plenty of help. Mr. Pennington may -not want you, but I do. Turn in and give us a -lift. Between us, we’ll see what we can do. We -are going to move these boxes out to the fair-ground, -and see if we can put our aeroplane together. -You’re hired to help.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> -<small>THE HERO OF THE GRAVEL PIT.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The Scott County Fair-grounds were a mile -and a half from Scottsville. A little after two -o’clock, the “aeroplane” cavalcade was on its -way there from the freight-house. In front, rode -President Elder of the fair association, with -Lafayette, or Lafe, Pennington, the bank clerk -and amateur dabbler in aeronautics, by his side. -Then came a dray with the four-cylinder, -25-horse power, 190 lb. Curtiss engine elaborately -crated. Next was an express wagon with -boxed engine accessories, such as gasoline tank, -water cooler, chain drives, and the dismounted -propeller blades. In the rear, in the big farm -wagon, rode proud Bud Wilson, busy preserving -the balance of the spruce sections of the aeroplane -surfaces.</p> - -<p>In the excitement attendant upon the fair, the -procession attracted little attention. Buggies -and passenger hacks raised clouds of dust in -which wagons laden with belated exhibits made -their way toward the great enclosure within -whose high white fence Scott County’s agricultural<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -exhibit was fast getting into final order. -At the sight of President Elder, the gate attendants -threw the white portals wide open, and Bud -had a new joy—he was working for the fair, and -didn’t have to pay to get in.</p> - -<p>“I never did pay,” laughed Bud, speaking to -the driver of the wagon, “but this is the first -time I ever went in at the main gate.”</p> - -<p>Winding their way among the plows, self-binders -and threshing-machines already in -place, and then directly between the two lines of -peanut, pop, candy, cider and “nigger baby” -stands—already making a half-hearted attempt -to attract trade—the aeroplane wagons passed -through the heart of the grounds. Near the -“grand stand,” where for ten cents extra, one -might view the trotting and running races, President -Elder alighted and personally superintended -the unlocking of the gates leading onto -the race-track. Across this, the three vehicles -made their way.</p> - -<p>At the far end of the space within the smooth -half-mile race-track was a newly built shed, -made according to directions forwarded from the -aeroplane factory in New Jersey. In front of -this, the wagons halted. There were not many -persons in attendance that day on the fair, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -there were enough to make an audience of several -hundred at once. The aeroplane shed was a -temporary structure—a shed with a board top -and canvas sides. Willing hands soon had the -different sections of the car either in the house -or near by in front.</p> - -<p>Lafe Pennington’s coat was off, and he superintended -the unloading with a great show of -authority. By this time, a carpenter and a -machinist had arrived, and the officious bank -clerk announced that spectators had better be -dispersed in order that he might work undisturbed.</p> - -<p>“What do you want Bud to do?” asked President -Elder.</p> - -<p>Lafe smiled feebly.</p> - -<p>“Nothing just now,” he answered. “He can -stay outside and see that we are not disturbed. -I don’t think it will take us very long.”</p> - -<p>The confident clerk started to enter the shed.</p> - -<p>“How about the starting track and the derrick -for the drop weight?” asked Bud innocently. “I -don’t see any material here for those.”</p> - -<p>Lafe stopped suddenly, and looked up in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course,” he faltered, “where are -they?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean,” said President -Elder. “I guess everything’s here.”</p> - -<p>Pennington made a quick survey.</p> - -<p>“Oh, they are not here,” explained Bud. “I -discovered that some days ago.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right,” conceded Lafe. “They must -have forgotten them. We’ll have to telegraph -for them.”</p> - -<p>“Telegraph nothing,” blurted the president. -“We’ve no time for telegraphing. They can’t -get ’em here in time. If it’s something you have -to have, I guess we are stuck.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” suggested Bud, “the manufacturers -expected you to make this apparatus on the -ground. The ropes and automatic release block -are here.”</p> - -<p>“How can we do that?” sneered Pennington, -already irritated at the turn affairs were taking.</p> - -<p>“Very easily, I imagine,” replied Bud, “if -they sent specifications. The manufacturer sent -word how to build a shed and how big to make -it. Didn’t they send a letter?” he asked, turning -to President Elder.</p> - -<p>“Letter? Why, yes—I forgot that—a big -letter,” exclaimed Mr. Elder, reaching into his -inside pocket.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> - -<p>Pennington took it, glanced it over hurriedly, -and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Sure, here it is, sketch, measurement, and -all.”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t I look after that?” asked Bud turning -from the president to Lafe.</p> - -<p>“That’s carpenters’ work,” answered Pennington -at once. “We’ll have the carpenters -see to that. They can order the stuff by ’phone -at once.”</p> - -<p>He turned again to begin the work of uncrating -the aeroplane.</p> - -<p>“How long do you figure it’s going to take to -put the car together, Lafe?” asked Bud.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” retorted Pennington sharply, -“but I’ll get along all the faster if I’m not -stopped to talk about it.”</p> - -<p>“It ought to be done to-night, shouldn’t it?” -queried Bud, turning to the president and showing -no irritation.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, if possible.”</p> - -<p>“Then we ought to get some lights—three or -four gasoline flares. That work can’t be done -before dark. It’s going to take all night. It’s -a tejous job. And after the frame is set up and -made fast, the engine must be tested and anchored -and the shafts set.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Hadn’t we better get the lights ready?” -asked Mr. Elder of Pennington.</p> - -<p>“Of course, we’ll need them,” answered Pennington, -who had in reality not thought of them. -“Better let Bud go to town for them.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Here Bud, take my horse and -buggy and go to town, and get what’s needed at -Appleton’s hardware store. I’ll be at the ticket -office when you get back.”</p> - -<p>Pennington had disposed of his rival temporarily, -but Bud took his defeat cheerfully. However, -he could not resist the temptation to turn -the tables once more.</p> - -<p>“Want anything else?” he asked casually as -he climbed into the rig.</p> - -<p>“Nothing more now,” answered Pennington, -turning away for the third time.</p> - -<p>“You want gasoline for the lamps, don’t you?” -suggested Bud.</p> - -<p>“Certainly—and matches, too,” said Lafe -with another sneer.</p> - -<p>“Well, how about some gasoline for the engine?”</p> - -<p>Lafe grew red in the face, and turned away -impatiently.</p> - -<p>“And some oil for the engine?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t expect a fellow to think of everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -at once, do you?” snorted Lafe. “I haven’t -been hanging over this thing for a week. -I’ve had something else to think about.”</p> - -<p>“Seems as if Bud had done a good deal of -thinking,” suggested President Elder. “Hurry -back, Bud, we may need you again.”</p> - -<p>Bud Wilson had long been pointed out as the -prize example of juvenile perverseness. Many -persons, including Lafe Pennington, were in the -habit of referring to him as a “bad” boy. But -in this, they were wrong. Bud’s differences from -other boys of better reputation meant no more -than that he was headstrong and so full of ideas -that the routine of school went hard with him. -The boy often shocked his teacher. Instead of -the old-fashioned speaking pieces, Bud was apt -to select some up-to-date newspaper story or -verse. Once he even ventured to recite some -poetry of his own, in which Miss Abbott, the -teacher, did not particularly shine.</p> - -<p>When he was left an orphan and went to live -with Attorney Cyrus Stockwell, the lively -youngster gave up most of his school hours to -drawing engines. At that time, he planned to be -an engineer. Succeeding that, he aspired to be -a detective. In this new ambition, he read a -great deal of literature concerning crime. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -this new profession was soon forgotten with the -advent of aeroplanes. From the moment Bud -realized what a heavier-than-air flying-machine -meant, he was a rapt disciple of the world’s new -aviators.</p> - -<p>Verses of his own and detective stories were -now forgotten. Given the task of writing an -essay, by Miss Abbott, for some lapse of discipline, -he produced a wonderful composition on -“The Airship.” It was so full of Jules Verne -ideas that Miss Abbott visited Bud’s foster -father, and suggested that something be done -with the boy.</p> - -<p>The something that Attorney Stockwell did -was to take Bud out of school and put him at -work on rich Mr. Greeley’s farm, where, for a -time, he labored in a gravel pit shovelling. -Learning to operate the steam shovel, he became -the engineer, and after that, for some months in -the summer, he had been Mr. Greeley’s chauffeur. -Just now he was back home without a job, and a -half promise of another try at school when it -opened.</p> - -<p>Lafe Pennington was everything Bud wasn’t. -He graduated from the high-school, and was a -clerk in the First National Bank. He was popular -with the young ladies, and already wore a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -moustache. Lafe’s interest in aeronautics was -older than Bud’s, but his knowledge was largely -superficial. Young Pennington’s information -did not extend much further than what he had -written in an essay he read before the Scottsville -Travel and Study Circle. This paper, entitled -“The Development of the Aeroplane,” had been -printed in the Globe-Register. Ever since its -publication, Lafe had been trying to live up to -the reputation it had brought him.</p> - -<p>When Bud Wilson read the article, he at once -pronounced it a “chestnut,” and declared that -it was copied almost wholly from a magazine -and an old one at that. Bud repeated this statement -to Lafe himself on the memorable occasion -when the aeroplane or glider dumped Bud.</p> - -<p>While running the steam shovel at Greeley’s -gravel pit, Bud had the long summer evenings -to himself. There was a tool house, plenty of -lumber, and, what prompted the manufacture of -the small aeroplane, several long, steep switch -tracks running down into the pit. After several -weeks of work, based on a mass of magazine -photographs, newspaper clippings, and scientific -paper detailed plans, Bud finally constructed a -pretty decent looking bi-plane airship, complete -in all respects except as to the engine. It was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -combination of the Curtiss planes and the -Wright rudders, with some ideas of Bud’s in the -wing warping apparatus.</p> - -<p>This work was done in the abandoned engine -house on the slope of the gravel hill above the -pit. Lafe learned of the experiment through Mr. -Greeley, who was rather proud of his young engineer, -and who did not fail to talk about the -amateur airship to those in the bank.</p> - -<p>As chief aviation authority in Scottsville, -Lafe felt it his duty to investigate. And, to -Bud’s annoyance, the bank clerk made his first -visit to the gravel pit on a Saturday afternoon -just as Bud was about to make a trial flight.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of her?” asked Bud -proudly.</p> - -<p>Lafe screwed up his mouth.</p> - -<p>“Pretty fair, for a kid. But what’s the sense -of it? You haven’t an engine, and I reckon you -never will have one.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the good of it?” repeated Bud. “I -suppose you know the heavier-than-air car—the -aeroplane—was developed before the experimenters -had any power. If the Wright Brothers -had waited for an engine, they’d never had a machine. -The thing is to know how to fly. You can -only learn by flying.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<p>Lafe smiled in a superior way.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he laughed. “Go ahead. I’ll -see that you have a decent funeral.”</p> - -<p>Lafe even helped Bud carry the fragile frame -down to the head of the switch track grade where -Bud had a small tool car—no larger than a hand -car. On this the motorless planes were deposited, -and when Bud had taken his place on his -stomach on the lower frame, an idle workman -gave the car a shove.</p> - -<p>To young Pennington’s gratification, the experiment -was a fiasco. Even after several trials, -it was found that the car would not get up sufficient -momentum. The model would not leave -the moving platform. Finally, Bud got grease -for the car wheels, and then stood up with his -arm pits resting on the light framework. As the -car reached the bottom of the incline, the boy -sprang forward. For one moment, the surfaces -caught and held the air and the planes seemed -about to rise. Then, with a sudden twist, the -frame sprang sideways and downward. Bud’s -feet struck the gravel and he stumbled. To keep -from mixing up with the car, he hurled it from -him. The aeroplane sank down with only a few -strains, but Bud landed on the side of his face.</p> - -<p>The following Saturday, as a sort of a challenge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -Bud invited Lafe and a reporter for the -Globe-Register to witness his second attempt. -This time he abandoned the car. The gravel pit -had been cut into the side of the hill. At the -edge of the pit, there was a sharp drop of nearly -fifty feet. When his guests were ready, Bud had -them raise the light car—only twenty feet long—on -his shoulders. Balancing the planes, he -gripped the lower struts, and before Lafe or the -reporter had time to protest, he ran a few feet -down the slope—the car had been removed to -the old engine house on the hill at the brink of -the pit—and stumbled over the precipice.</p> - -<p>His guests caught their breaths. But Bud did -not fall. When he reached the gravel bed at the -bottom, he had flown one hundred and fifty feet, -and he came down easily and safely. It was the -account of this in the Globe-Register, under the -title of “First Aeroplane in Scott County” that -cemented Lafe’s jealousy of Bud’s nerve.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> -<small>SCOTTSVILLE’S FAIR SECURES AN AVIATOR.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>When Bud returned from town, he had a buggy -full of material—three large cans of gasoline, -three gasoline flare torches, oil, waste, and—what -proved to be most essential—his scrap book -of airship pictures and plans. Everything was -confusion in the airship shed. The crowd had -pretty well cleaned out, but Lafe Pennington and -his two assistants did not seem to be working -with any more ease because of this.</p> - -<p>On top of a box, the manufacturer’s drawings -and directions were spread out. One thing only -seemed to have been accomplished; everything -was uncrated.</p> - -<p>“Put the stuff down, and don’t bother us,” -exclaimed Lafe at once. “There are too many -in here now. I won’t need you any more.”</p> - -<p>Before he took his departure, Bud made a -hasty examination. Apparently everything was -being done backward. Pennington’s eagerness -to unpack and to knock boxes apart had made a -chaos out of the shed interior. There were no -signs of work on the ascending track and weight -derrick.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sure you don’t want me to get that track -started?” Bud asked.</p> - -<p>“See here, Bud, you seem to have that track -on the brain. I’ll set it up in a couple of hours -when I get around to it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” answered Bud, with a smile, “I thought -it might take longer.” The dismissed boy re-entered -the buggy, and drove to the ticket office -at the gate. Mr. Elder appeared in a short time -with the Superintendent of the Grounds. The -possibility of keeping faith with the public by -flying the aeroplane the next afternoon was -under discussion.</p> - -<p>“There’s a powerful lot to be done, even if -Mr. Dare gets here to-night,” commented Superintendent -Perry.</p> - -<p>“How does it look to you, Bud?” asked -President Elder, turning to the boy—they were -all standing by the buggy. Bud said nothing.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I think, too,” spoke up the -superintendent. “I’ve been over to the shed -twice this afternoon. Mr. Pennington may be a -fine bank clerk—and I guess he’s all right at -that—but he don’t strike me as no aeroplaner. -I’m afeared we’ve bit off more’n we can chew -in this deal.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Is he going to be able to finish the job?” -asked Mr. Elder, turning to Bud again.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps. If he works all night.”</p> - -<p>“All night?” exclaimed Superintendent Perry. -“Them mechanics’ll not stick all night. They’re -gettin’ ready to quit now.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder sighed.</p> - -<p>“Well, let him go ahead until the eight o’clock -train gets here. If the expert ain’t on it, I guess -we’ll call it off. We made a big mistake not -hirin’ that Roman Hippodrome and Wild West -Congress, but it’s too late now.”</p> - -<p>Bud rode to town with Mr. Elder, after watching -his horse for an hour, and went sorrowfully -home. But he was by no means as despondent as -the Fair Association President. His brain had -been working all afternoon. When the eight -o’clock train came in without the eagerly longed -for Mr. Dare, Bud was at Mr. Elder’s elbow. -The president was boiling mad.</p> - -<p>“I see he didn’t come yit,” ventured the all-observing -’bus driver, Doug’ Jackson. “Ef he -gits here on the one o’clock, I reckon I’d better -call you up and let ye know?”</p> - -<p>This willingness to oblige was leading up to -another appeal for a pass, but Doug’ got a cold -reception.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Needn’t bother,” responded Mr. Elder -curtly. “I’m done with these easterners and -Mr. Dare.”</p> - -<p>He was hurrying to his buggy when Bud -touched him on the arm.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Elder,” said the boy, in a businesslike -tone, “I’m pretty young to make any suggestions -to you, but I can help you out of your -trouble. I’m sure of it.”</p> - -<p>The angry fair official paused.</p> - -<p>“Lafe Pennington is doing what he’s always -done—when it comes to this airship business—”</p> - -<p>“Four flushin’,” interrupted Mr. Elder. “I -know that.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t put it that way,” added Bud, -“but he’s doin’ what Mr. Perry says—he’s bit -off more’n he can chew.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what then? It don’t matter much. -Our flyin’ man ain’t here, and don’t look as if -he’d be here.”</p> - -<p>“I can chew it.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“From what I hear, you and Lafe are always -knockin’ each other,” he commented.</p> - -<p>“That’s right. I’ve got a reason, and he -hasn’t. I can deliver the goods, and he can’t. -That’s all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What are you tryin’ to git at?”</p> - -<p>“Put me in charge of that work out there, and -by noon to-morrow, I’ll have that aeroplane -ready to fly.”</p> - -<p>“Alone?” said the man, after a moment’s -thought and turning on the boy suddenly.</p> - -<p>“By noon, if I have carpenters to do what I -need, and earlier if Lafe will help.”</p> - -<p>“Would you work with Mr. Pennington?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly. He’s all right if he has some -one with him who knows. I know—I’ve figured -this all out.”</p> - -<p>The puzzled official was plainly in a quandary. -Then he shook his head.</p> - -<p>“What if you did? What’s the use of all this -fussin’ and rushin’ around? This feller to run -it ain’t here, and we can’t count on him now.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder’s mouth opened.</p> - -<p>“You mean go up in the machine?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And risk breakin’ your neck?”</p> - -<p>“Hundreds are doing that every day. Hasn’t -been but two men broken their necks yet.”</p> - -<p>“You’re foolish.”</p> - -<p>“May be. But I’ll do it if you’ll give me the -chance.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> - -<p>The suggestion was too daring for President -Elder to pass on at once and alone. He lit a -cigar, looked at his watch, examined Bud in the -glare of the depot light, and then went into the -station and telephoned to some one. When he -came out, he motioned the boy to follow him, unhitched -his horse and told Bud to jump into the -buggy. Before he spoke they were on their way -to the fair-grounds once more.</p> - -<p>“What makes you think you can do this? I -thought you had to be an expert?”</p> - -<p>“Experts always have to have a first experience. -There isn’t any half bites. It’s whole -hog or none,” answered Bud.</p> - -<p>“You had a half bite when you tumbled in the -gravel pit,” laughed his companion.</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” answered the boy. “That was -riskier than this. I took more chances when I -jumped off the hill than I’ll be takin’ here.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to git your father’s consent,” -suggested the president as that thought struck -the cautious banker. “If we try it, we can’t -afford to be sued for damages.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any father.”</p> - -<p>“Well, your guardian’s—I forgot. You’ll -have to sign an agreement waiving all claims.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do that, and I’ll do more. This expert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -was to get fifty dollars a day. I’ll work for -nothing.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>Bud was silent a little spell. Then he answered.</p> - -<p>“Because every one says I’m a tough kid just -because I ‘ditched’ school a few times. I’ve -never had a chance. I couldn’t even get work -except in a gravel pit. I’m anxious to ‘make -good’ in this town.”</p> - -<p>The road to the fair-ground was now pretty -well deserted. Inside the exhibition enclosure, -the white tents and the little fires glowing here -and there under the trees gave the place the appearance -of a hunter’s camp in the woods. Hastening -forward in the dark, Mr. Elder drove at -once into the center of the race track. To his -and to Bud’s surprise, there was no glare of light -from the airship shed. They had expected to -find the place the center of activity.</p> - -<p>“I reckon Mr. Pennington’s gone to supper,” -suggested Bud.</p> - -<p>“Maybe he’s given up,” said the president.</p> - -<p>“You’re both wrong,” exclaimed a voice out -of the blackness. “I’ve just been over trying -to get you or Superintendent Perry on the -’phone,” went on the unseen speaker, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -easily recognized as Pennington. “I can finish -the job all right, but to be dead sure, I guess I -ought to have some help.”</p> - -<p>A few minutes later, they were at the shed, and -Lafe and the watchman lit the lanterns.</p> - -<p>“That’s what we concluded,” said Mr. Elder -in a decisive tone. “And I’ve brought Bud -back. I guess you fellows had better work together.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” replied Lafe. “I was going -to suggest Bud.”</p> - -<p>The latter was already at work; his hat was -off, his shirt was off and his undershirt sleeves -were rolled up to the elbows. He was heating -and lighting the gasoline torches.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s all right now, Mr. Elder. We’ll get -along fine together, and you can go home and rest -in peace. We’ll deliver the machine on time,” -began Bud enthusiastically. “You won’t disappoint -the people.”</p> - -<p>“Did Mr. Dare come?” asked Lafe, already -greatly relieved in getting out of his mess so -easily.</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No. And I ain’t countin’ on him now. Looks -like we won’t need him.”</p> - -<p>“How’s that?” asked Lafe, puzzled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - -<p>“If it comes to the worst, Bud says he can fly -the thing.”</p> - -<p>“Bud?”</p> - -<p>“Why not? I’m sort o’ persuaded he can. -I’m goin’ to see the directors about it to-night. -He’s willing to try.”</p> - -<p>Lafe’s face turned red and white with anger -and surprise. He stammered and trembled.</p> - -<p>“I think that’s a pretty raw deal, Mr. Elder, -after what I’ve done. If any one gets that -chance, I think I ought.”</p> - -<p>“Did you want to go up in it?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. I had no other idea, if the operator -didn’t come. I was going to ask as soon as -it was certain he couldn’t get here. I think I’ve -had a pretty hard turn down.”</p> - -<p>He was lying, and his indignation was largely -assumed. But his jealousy of Bud made him -desperate.</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder was puzzled. He looked from one -lad to the other.</p> - -<p>“How about it, Bud?” he asked at last. -“Looks as if you were sort of second fiddle, don’t -it?”</p> - -<p>Bud hesitated, wiped his hands on a bit of -waste and then smiled.</p> - -<p>“You didn’t say I could do it,” he answered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -at last, “though I’m ready to try. If you’d -rather have Lafe, all right. I’ll help get her -ready just the same. Don’t let me make any -trouble.”</p> - -<p>The fair official looked relieved. From a -dearth of aviators, he now had an over supply of -them.</p> - -<p>“Maybe Judge Pennington won’t consent to -your reskin’ your neck, Lafe,” he commented.</p> - -<p>“I’m of age,” answered Lafe, “and can do -what I like.”</p> - -<p>“And you think you can work it?”</p> - -<p>There was a plain sneer on Lafe’s face.</p> - -<p>“I guess I know as much about it as any one -around here, even if I haven’t fallen out of -one.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe your fall’s comin’,” interrupted Bud, -with a broad grin.</p> - -<p>“Well, settle it between you. We’ll count -on one of you. I’ll go to town and tell the other -directors.”</p> - -<p>“Give it to him—give Lafe the chance if he -wants it,” volunteered Bud suddenly and significantly.</p> - -<p>“You give up quick enough, I notice,” exclaimed -Lafe somewhat nervously. “I reckon -you ain’t afraid, are you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not so you can notice it,” retorted Bud.</p> - -<p>“Then we’ll count on you, Lafe,” concluded -President Elder.</p> - -<p>“Much obliged,” was Lafe’s answer, but it -lacked a good deal of being enthusiastic.</p> - -<p>As soon as Mr. Elder’s buggy disappeared in -the darkness, Lafe wheeled toward Bud.</p> - -<p>“You did that on purpose, Bud Wilson, just -to get me in a box.”</p> - -<p>“You jump out, and let me in,” was Bud’s -sober rejoinder.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> -<small>A MIDNIGHT LUNCH.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“When you see me doing that, just tell me,” -retorted Lafe, with another sneer.</p> - -<p>“All right,” answered Bud, “I will.”</p> - -<p>Surrounded by a wilderness of odds and ends, -the youthful rivals stood and faced each other. -Finally, Bud reached out his hand.</p> - -<p>“What’s the use of scrappin’ Lafe? I guess -we don’t like each other any too well, but we -ought not let our grouch interfere with our -chance.”</p> - -<p>“What chance have you?” asked the bank -clerk.</p> - -<p>“Just a chance to get my hands on a real aeroplane. -And that’s all I want. But I won’t have -that if we don’t stop quarrelin’ and get to work.”</p> - -<p>“Looks to me as if you thought I’d back out.”</p> - -<p>“That’s up to you,” went on Bud. “I didn’t -say so.”</p> - -<p>“Are you willing to take orders and do as I -say?”</p> - -<p>“Sure,” answered Bud. “All I want is to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -the thing fly. And, since you are the aviator, I -say ‘Good luck to you.’”</p> - -<p>Lafe had ignored the proffered hand, but he -now relented a little.</p> - -<p>“I want to be fair,” he said half-heartedly, -“and I’ll meet you half way. But I don’t intend -to work all night to give you a chance to show off -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Never fear,” answered Bud. “I had hopes -for a minute, but they were like all my other -chances.” And he whistled. “You’re it and -I’m nit. Come on, let’s forget our troubles.”</p> - -<p>As he smiled and held out his hand again, Lafe -had not the heart to refuse it.</p> - -<p>“Now,” went on Bud enthusiastically as the -two lads limply clasped hands, “we’re on the -job. What’s doin’?”</p> - -<p>Within a few minutes, the rivalry was forgotten, -at least temporarily. The only headway -made so far was in the mounting or setting up of -a few sections of the frame. More than half of -the work was yet to be done; the front and rear -rudders were to be attached and levers adjusted; -the vulcanized silk covering of the two planes -had to be put in place and stretched; the landing -skids bolted on; the engine, gasoline tank, and -water cooler put in place and tested; the batteries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -wired; the propellers and shafts located; -the chain gears and guards attached, and, possibly -most important, the starting rail and weight -derrick constructed. And it was then nine -o’clock.</p> - -<p>“Let’s get started right,” suggested Bud, -“now that you have everything unpacked. Before -we go any further let’s see where we stand.”</p> - -<p>As a result of a nearly thirty-minute conference, -these were the conclusions: A mechanic -must be found at once, if possible, to adjust the -engine, oil it and get it running; a carpenter must -also be secured to start to work by midnight on -the starting track; these things arranged for, the -two amateurs agreed that, together, they could -have the aeroplane itself so far set up by daylight -as to give assurance to the fair directors that the -day’s program could be carried out.</p> - -<p>“And then,” suggested Lafe, “I suppose T. -Glenn Dare will sail in on the noon train and -steal our thunder.”</p> - -<p>“He can’t steal mine,” laughed Bud. “I’ll -have been through this thing by that time from -top to bottom. That’s all I want—that, I can -get,” he added with another laugh.</p> - -<p>The first stumbling block was the launching -device. This essential part of any aeroplane<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -flight is usually a single wooden rail about eight -inches high, faced with strap iron. As it is -necessary with most modern aeroplanes to make -a run before sufficient sustention is secured to -force the machine into the air, it is evident that -this starting impulse must be secured through an -outside force.</p> - -<p>The specifications forwarded with the airship -purchased by the fair authorities, called for the -long wooden rail. On this the aeroplane was to -be balanced on a small two-wheeled truck. At the -rear end of the rail, the plans called for a small -derrick, pyramidal in form, constructed of four -timbers each twenty-five feet long and two inches -square braced by horizontal frames and wire -stays.</p> - -<p>At the top and at the bottom of this, were two, -pulley blocks with a rope passing around the -sheaves a sufficient number of times to provide a -three-to-one relation between a 1500-pound -weight suspended from the top pulley and the -movement of the aeroplane on the track.</p> - -<p>The rope, which passes around the pulley at -the bottom of the derrick, is carried forward to -and around a pulley at the front end of the rail, -and thence back to the aeroplane, to which it is -attached with a right-angled hook. When everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -is ready for an ascension and the operator -is in place, the propellers are set to work. When -they have reached their maximum revolution and -the car begins to feel their propelling force, the -weight, usually several bags of sand, is released, -the tightened rope shoots through the pulleys -and the balanced aeroplane springs forward on -its car. By the time it has traveled seventy-five -or one hundred feet, the impulse of the falling -weight and the lift of the propellers sends it -soaring. Thereupon, the hook drops off and the -free airship begins its flight.</p> - -<p>“We have the plans for the derrick and the -track, the pulley blocks, rope and hook,” declared -Bud at once. “But we haven’t the little -car.”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t we make one?” ventured Lafe.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, but hardly in the time we have.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve heard of aeroplanes ascending by skidding -along over the grass,” suggested the bank -clerk.</p> - -<p>“But they weren’t in the hands of amateurs. -We’d better stick to the rail. I’ve been thinking -over this—down there in the freight-house.”</p> - -<p>“Did you know the track car wasn’t here?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I didn’t see it. Here is the idea. The -aeroplane has two light, smooth landing runners<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -or skids. Lumber is cheap. Instead of a track for -the wheels we haven’t got, we’ll make two -grooves just as long as the proposed track. -We’ll stake these out on the ground and set the -landing runners in them after we’ve greased the -grooves with tallow. The weight, rope and hook -will work exactly as if we had a single track—’n -possibly better. Anything the matter with that -suggestion?”</p> - -<p>Lafe was skeptical a few moments while Bud -made a sketch of the new device. Then he conceded -that he could see no reason why it wouldn’t -work.</p> - -<p>“All right,” exclaimed Bud, in a businesslike -way, “now, you go ahead, and I’m off for town -for the timber and the men we need. You can’t -do much single handed, of course, but do what -you can. I’ll be back before midnight. Then -we’ll get down to business.”</p> - -<p>The boy had no vehicle to carry him the two -miles to Scottsville, so he walked. The night -was dark, and almost starless, and the pike or -road was soft with heavy dust; but, with his coat -on his arm, Bud struck out with the stride of a -Weston. Covered with dust and perspiration, -in about half an hour, he reached the edge of the -town. Entering the first open place he found, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -sort of neighborhood grocery, he called up Mr. -Elder by telephone.</p> - -<p>It required some minutes to fully explain the -situation, but finally he convinced the fair official -that the things he suggested were absolutely -necessary and must be done at once. As a result, -by the time Bud reached the town public square, -Mr. Elder was waiting for him in the office of the -hotel.</p> - -<p>The usual “fair week” theatrical entertainment -was in progress in the town “opera-house,” -fakers were orating beneath their street torches, -and the square was alive with Scottsville citizens -and those already arrived for the fair. It was -not difficult for President Elder to start things -moving. Within a half hour he had found, and -for extra pay, arranged for two carpenters and -an engineer to report at the fair-grounds at once.</p> - -<p>The securing of the lumber was not so easy -and called for some persistent telephoning. Finally -an employe of the “Hoosier Sash, Door and -Blind Co.” was found, and he in turn secured a -teamster. At ten-thirty o’clock, Bud was in the -lumber yard selecting the needed material with -the aid of a smoky lantern, and before eleven -o’clock the one-horse wagon was on its way to -the fair-grounds. The two carpenters reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -the airship shed about eleven-thirty in a spring -wagon with their tools, and a little after twelve -o’clock the engineer arrived on foot with a hammer, -a wrench and a punch in his pocket.</p> - -<p>Before work really began, Bud startled Pennington -with a cheery question.</p> - -<p>“Say, Lafe, I’m hungry as a chicken, and -I’ve only got a dime. Got any money?”</p> - -<p>Lafe was not celebrated for generosity.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see what good money’ll do out here. -There’s no place to buy stuff. And it’s midnight -anyway.”</p> - -<p>“If you’ll produce, I’ll get something to -eat,” said Bud with a grin.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a quarter,” answered Pennington -slowly.</p> - -<p>“Gimme a dollar,” exclaimed Bud. “I’ll pay -it back. I forgot to speak of it to Mr. Elder.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want with a dollar?” asked his -associate, somewhat alarmed. Bud’s credit -wasn’t the sort that would ordinarily warrant -such a loan.</p> - -<p>“Why, for all of us, of course. We can’t -work all night on empty stomachs. And there’s -five of us.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon, Lafe rose to the occasion and -handed Bud a two-dollar bill.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You can bring me the change,” he suggested -promptly. “I’ll charge it up to the fair officers.”</p> - -<p>Bud was off in the dark. His hopes of securing -something to eat were based on what he had -seen passing through the grounds on his way -back with the lumber. In several groups under -the big trees, he had seen camp-fires. “Concession” -owners and their attendants who remained -on the grounds during the night had -turned the vicinity of the silent tents and booths -into a lively camp. In one place, the proprietor -of a “red hot” stand had a bed of charcoal glowing, -and a supply of toasting sausages on the -grill. These were in apparently steady demand -by watchmen, hostlers, live stock owners and -many others who had not yet retired.</p> - -<p>On his way to this stand, Bud passed what he -had not observed before. In the rear of a dirty, -small tent, an old woman, a man and a woman -of middle age were squatted about the dying -embers of a fire. Almost concealing both the -tent and group was a painted picture, worn and -dingy, displayed like a side-show canvas. On -this, above the attempt to outline an Egyptian -female head, were the words: “Madame Zecatacas, -Gypsy Queen. The Future Revealed.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 397px;"> -<a id="image02"> - <img src="images/image02.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt="" title="" /> -</a><br /> -<div class="caption"><span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_56">Bud Bargains for Coffee.</a></span></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54-<br />55]</a></span></p> - -<p>Bud could not resist the temptation to stop a -moment. The man greeted him with a stare, -but the old woman held out a skinny hand. Her -brown, wrinkled face was almost repulsive. A -red and yellow handkerchief was wound around -her head, and her oily, thin black hair was -twisted into tight braids behind her ears, from -which hung long, brassy-looking earrings. In -spite of her age, she was neither bent nor feeble.</p> - -<p>As the low fire played on the gaudy colors of -her thick dress, she leaned forward, her hand still -extended.</p> - -<p>“Twelve o’clock, the good-luck hour,” she exclaimed -in a broken voice. “I see good fortune -in store for the young gentleman. Let the Gypsy -Queen read your fate. Cross Zecatacas’ palm -with silver. I see good fortune for the young -gentleman.”</p> - -<p>There was something uncanny in the surroundings, -and Bud was about to beat a retreat, when -the man exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Got a cigarette, Kid?”</p> - -<p>In explaining that he had not, Bud’s eyes fell -on the rest of the group. A little girl lay asleep -with her head in the middle-aged woman’s lap. -The man held a tin cup in his hand. On the -coals of the fire stood a coffee pot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Got some coffee, there?” asked Bud -abruptly.</p> - -<p>The man grunted in the negative. The old -woman punched the coals into a blaze.</p> - -<p>“Give you fifty cents, if you’ll make me a pot -full,” said Bud.</p> - -<p>The little girl’s mother looked up with interest.</p> - -<p>“What kind o’ money?” drawled the man.</p> - -<p>“Part of this,” said Bud displaying Lafe’s -two-dollar bill.</p> - -<p>The man reached out his hand.</p> - -<p>“Got the change?” Bud inquired.</p> - -<p>The old woman reached under her dress and -withdrew her hand with a bag of silver coin.</p> - -<p>“We’re over in the track working on the airship,” -explained Bud with no little pride. -“When it’s ready bring it over. You can see the -aeroplane.”</p> - -<p>In the matter of food, Bud secured not only -“red hots,” sandwiches and dill pickles, but a -few cheese and ham sandwiches. Altogether he -expended a dollar and twenty-five cents of Lafe’s -money.</p> - -<p>“Here you are,” he exclaimed on his return, -while the new workmen grinned and chuckled, -“hot dogs and ham on the bun. Coffee’ll be here -in a few minutes.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> -<small>MADAME ZECATACAS READS THE FUTURE.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The workmen assisting Lafe and Bud did not -wait for the coffee. The last of the appetizing -sandwiches had disappeared when the male -member of Madame Zecatacas’ outfit came -shambling along with the pot of neither very -fragrant nor very strong coffee.</p> - -<p>“Help yourselves, boys,” suggested Bud, offering -the workmen their only drinking vessel—a -tin water cup. “We’ll try to have a better -breakfast.”</p> - -<p>Lafe, who had worked steadily and energetically -all night, was sitting on a box taking a -breathing spell. Bud, as a further reward to -the coffee bearer, was attempting to show the -sour-looking stranger some details of the aeroplane -and hastening in his explanation, for there -was plenty of work to be done. About the time -he had finished, there was a sharp exclamation -just outside the shed.</p> - -<p>“Move on. What are you doing hanging -around here?”</p> - -<p>It was Pennington speaking in a brusque voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Twelve o’clock, the good-luck hour,” a woman’s -voice responded. “I see good fortune in -store for the young gentleman. Let the Gypsy -Queen read your fate. Cross Zecatacas’ palm -with silver. I see good fortune for the young -gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“Get out, you faker,” exclaimed Lafe.</p> - -<p>“She’s all right,” interrupted Bud. “She’s -the Gypsy Queen. She’s Queen Zecatacas, -and she made the coffee for us.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s no good anyway,” retorted Lafe. -“And I reckon we’ve had enough visitors for one -day.”</p> - -<p>The old woman seemed not to hear the words. -She was looking beyond Pennington and into the -brilliantly lighted airship house, where, in the -glare of the torches and lanterns, the fragile and -graceful frame of the aeroplane had at last assumed -shape.</p> - -<p>“Beat it,” added Lafe authoritatively, “and -don’t bother us any more. We’re busy.”</p> - -<p>The aged gypsy did not take her eyes from the -skeleton of the airship. To Bud, the shadowed -fortune teller seemed like a person in a trance. -Without replying to Lafe or moving, she spoke, -suddenly, in a strange tongue, to the man with -her. He answered angrily in the same language.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -She stretched forth a bare, lean arm and pointing -toward the aeroplane spoke again. The man -replied, more at length this time, and as if in -explanation.</p> - -<p>“She wants to know what it’s all about,” volunteered -one of the carpenters who was nearest -the apparently transfixed woman.</p> - -<p>The man laughed with a sort of sneer.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you fool yourself. She reads. She -knows. But she never seen one.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we ain’t on exhibition now,” spoke up -Lafe. “You and the old lady have your pay. -We’ll excuse you.”</p> - -<p>“What you so sore about, Lafe?” interrupted -Bud. “I don’t see that they’re doin’ any harm. -I think we ought to thank ’em for makin’ us a -pot of coffee at midnight.”</p> - -<p>Before Pennington could make reply to this, -Zecatacas, the Queen of the Gypsies, took a -step forward. Something seemed to make her -look bigger—perhaps it was the light, which now -fell full on her face. Bud stepped back. It was a -face full of creepy power. Chanting, the woman -spread her long fingers before her and mumbled:</p> - -<p>“The old Gypsy Queen has read the Book of -Fate many years. Across the seas, she foretold -how man would soar like a bird. What she foretold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -has come to pass. Not for gold nor silver did -the Book of the Future open to her. She dreamed -the dream of what would come to pass. To-morrow -Zecatacas will look upon what she foretold -across the seas.”</p> - -<p>“Sure,” interrupted Bud, anxious to change -the subject, “come to me, and I’ll get you a front -seat—free. When did you predict that there’d -be airships?”</p> - -<p>“Rubbish,” exclaimed Lafe, glaring at the -old fortune teller. “If you feel better now, -you’d better duck and get to bed.”</p> - -<p>To neither of these speeches did the gypsy -seem to give the slightest heed.</p> - -<p>“What is written in the Book of the Future -will be. I see men flying over forest and mountain. -Faster than birds they mount into the -clouds. The clouds are dark, the sky is black. -I see—the Gypsy Queen sees death.”</p> - -<p>“Get out, you old hag,” roared Lafe, angered -at last beyond control, “or I’ll fire you out.”</p> - -<p>With a cat-like spring, the gypsy leaped forward, -caught Lafe’s extended arm in a vice-like -grip, and before the young man knew what she -was doing, or could prevent it, she had opened -his clenched fist and shot a lightning-like glance -at his exposed palm. As the half frightened and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -trembling Lafe jerked his hand from her grasp, -the fortune teller hissed at him:</p> - -<p>“You spit upon the Gypsy Queen. She puts -upon you no curse. But the Line of Fate tells -much. Beware! Zecatacas tells nothing. For -him who spits upon her, she sees all evil and -woe. There is more, the sky is black, but old -Zecatacas tells nothing. Beware!”</p> - -<p>With the last word, the old woman disappeared -into the darkness. Before Lafe could make reply -to her, the man, picking up his coffee pot, -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“I was just goin’ to hand you a swipe for your -freshness, young fellow, but I guess the old woman -has given you enough to think about.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” blurted out Lafe, making -a show of resentment and swaggering up to -the man. The latter reached out a brawny hand -and pushed Pennington aside.</p> - -<p>“I mean what I said. I ain’t no Romney. But, -I don’t cross the old lady. She ain’t handin’ out -no hoodoo curses; but—well, the long and short -of it is, she’s got her fingers crossed on you. -Them gypsies has sure got somethin’ up their -sleeves we ain’t an’, whatever it is, I wouldn’t -give you a nickel for your luck while she’s sore -on you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then he too was gone. The same talkative carpenter, -for all had suspended work while the incident -was taking place, felt called upon to make -a remark.</p> - -<p>“I knowed a Gypsy ’at put a charm on a feller -I worked with onct an’ he fell off’n a roof an’ -purt nigh kilt hisself.”</p> - -<p>“And I heard of a colored voodoo doctor,” -broke in Bud, “who put a curse on a coon, and -the doctor himself was arrested for chicken -stealin’. So you see there ain’t much to be scared -about.” He attempted to liven things with a -peal of laughter. But no one joined him. “And -as for this old Zecatacas, or Gypsy Queen as she -calls herself,” he went on, “she makes me tired. -Give ’em a quarter and you’re goin’ to have -good luck and money; turn ’em down, as Lafe -kind o’ had to do, an’ they make an awful bluff -about doin’ you dirt some way.”</p> - -<p>“She don’t scare me a bit,” remarked Pennington, -who was yet white and trembling.</p> - -<p>“You’d be a fool if she did,” added Bud consolingly. -“Any way, it’s all over now. Let’s -fall to and get busy.”</p> - -<p>Pennington had already worked nine hours, -and it was not strange that he was tired and nervous. -He was restless and irritable, and every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -now and then took occasion to say how little he -cared for old Zecatacas’ words. Bud did what -he could to belittle the gypsy’s disturbing -speech. At three o’clock, Lafe lay down and -slept until six, when he, Bud and the three men -closed the shed and, on another advance from -Lafe, managed to secure an early breakfast at a -boarding tent erected for the stock attendants. -Newly fortified with food and a wash up, they -were back to work at seven o’clock.</p> - -<p>Pennington had grown a little more affable, -and as the end of their labors now came in sight, -he was even at times in a good humor. But Bud -saw that either old Zecatacas’ speech or something -else disturbed Lafe. At eight o’clock, -when President Elder arrived, it was seen that, -whether expert Dare arrived or not, the aeroplane -would be ready by about eleven o’clock.</p> - -<p>“How did you young fellows settle it?” were -Mr. Elder’s first words, after a gratified look -into the airship shed.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Pennington has it,” answered Bud -promptly.</p> - -<p>“No hard feelings?” added the official with -a smile.</p> - -<p>“Smooth as pie,” explained Bud. “Only, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -the chance ever comes, I’d like a try at it—when -I ain’t in any one’s way.”</p> - -<p>“Still think you can sail her?” said Mr. Elder, -turning to Pennington.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied the latter, “it looks easy -enough. Of course, there is a certain risk, but -I’ll chance that. Only,” and he spoke as if -the thought had just come to him, “I wish I’d -had more rest last night. I’m pretty tired, and -you know a fellow ought to be at his best.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” explained Bud, “he worked a good -deal longer than the rest of us.” He didn’t -say anything, however, about Pennington’s -three hours’ sleep. “Of course, he feels it more.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’d better wait until to-morrow, -Lafe, when you’ve had a good night’s sleep. -How would it do for Bud to make the first trial? -He seems fresh enough.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m all right—I guess,” answered Pennington. -“You can count on me. By the way, -you didn’t hear from Mr. Dare, did you?”</p> - -<p>“Not a peep.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be ready.”</p> - -<p>Before nine o’clock, two more directors appeared, -almost together. They were Lafe’s -father, Judge E. Pennington (in reality only a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -Justice of the Peace), and Bud’s foster father, -Attorney Cyrus Stockwell.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” began Attorney Stockwell angrily, -“why didn’t you send us word you were going -to stay out all night?”</p> - -<p>“To tell you the truth,” answered Bud without -any great alarm, “I didn’t know it when -I left home, and after I got out here, I didn’t -have a chance.”</p> - -<p>“They tell me you offered to go up in this -thing,” continued the attorney, jerking his -thumb toward the now practically completed air -craft.</p> - -<p>“Offered!” exclaimed Bud. “I begged to. -But I got left. Lafe beat me to it.”</p> - -<p>“Lafe?” exclaimed Judge Pennington. “Lafe -going up in the airship?”</p> - -<p>“I agreed to,” exclaimed young Pennington. -“If the operator don’t come, they’ve got to -have some one. And I know more about it than -any one else around here.”</p> - -<p>“And you’ve promised to commit suicide in -that death trap?” added Judge Pennington -hastily.</p> - -<p>“I—I didn’t see what else I could do,” faltered -Lafe.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, I can,” broke in his father, “and -mighty quick. You can stay out of it.”</p> - -<p>“Judge,” interrupted Attorney Stockwell, -“I don’t see any cause to worry. Bud tells me -he is anxious to take Lafe’s place.”</p> - -<p>“Bud Wilson?” sneered the Judge. “What -call has he to try such a thing?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, none, except he’s been up in one once. -I never heard that Lafe had,” retorted the piqued -lawyer. Attorney Stockwell had no particular -concern for Bud and certainly no affection for -him. Later, Judge Pennington said he reckoned -the lawyer rather wanted Bud to turn aviator -and break his neck in the bargain. But, this -morning, the lawyer resented Lafe’s superiority.</p> - -<p>“I guess if Lafe had tried to fly, he wouldn’t -have tumbled out on his head,” snorted the -Judge. “I don’t approve of sending boys up -just because we made this fool arrangement. -But, when it comes down to who’s entitled to do -the thing and who’s got the real grit, I guess -it’ll be my own boy.”</p> - -<p>Bud was watching Lafe. He expected to see -his rival swell up with pride and elation. On -the contrary, he was sure that he detected signs -of disappointment in young Pennington.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He don’t seem to be hankerin’ after the -job,” was the attorney’s next shot.</p> - -<p>“Lafe,” exclaimed his father belligerently, -“did Mr. Elder select you for this work?”</p> - -<p>“He did.”</p> - -<p>“Then you do the job, or I’ll know why.”</p> - -<p>“I thought it was all settled,” interposed Bud -in a calm voice. “I ain’t makin’ any fuss about -it. I ain’t claimin’ the right.”</p> - -<p>“Then you won’t be disappointed,” snapped -the judge, and he bustled angrily away.</p> - -<p>“Bud?” asked the Attorney in a low voice, -as Lafe walked away, “how much are you to -get for workin’ all night?”</p> - -<p>“Not a cent. It’s like goin’ to school to me.”</p> - -<p>“You’re crazy. Workin’ all night for -nothin’? Why that’s expert service, an’ it -ought to be double pay, too.”</p> - -<p>“I did it for fun,” explained Bud, with a -laugh.</p> - -<p>“Fun?” snapped the lawyer. “You wouldn’t -think it so funny if you had to pay for your -board and clothes.”</p> - -<p>“I never asked you to do either,” replied Bud. -“I don’t know why you do. You just took me -in. If you’re tired of me, I’ll stay away. But -I haven’t any money to pay you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Stay away,” sneered the lawyer. “Where’d -you stay? You haven’t a home.”</p> - -<p>“Wherever there’s aeroplanes,” answered -Bud calmly, “that’s my job now.”</p> - -<p>“Still,” said the Attorney in a milder tone, -“I don’t want to be hard on you. You had better -come back to us until you are able to care for -yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” answered Bud. “I hope that -won’t be long.”</p> - -<p>When his foster father had followed after -Judge Pennington, Bud turned to Lafe. The latter -was lying on a long packing case.</p> - -<p>“Sleepy?” asked Bud.</p> - -<p>“Pretty tired,” replied Lafe. “Do you think -you can finish up now? I believe I ought to go -home and go to bed for an hour or so before afternoon. -I’ve got to be on edge, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Sure,” said Bud sympathetically. “You do -that. I’ll put the last touches on everything. -If you get back here by two o’clock, that’s time -enough?”</p> - -<p>Just before twelve o’clock, President Elder -drove up to the airship shed.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he announced, “he didn’t come. Our -expert failed to arrive. It’s up to Lafe. Where -is he?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He’ll be here,” answered Bud. “We’re -all ready, and he’s gone home for a little rest.”</p> - -<p>About one-thirty o’clock, President Elder visited -the aeroplane headquarters again. Bud was -greasing the starting grooves.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” began the fair official with a faint -smile, “I knew it all the time. It’s you or no -exhibition. Lafe Pennington is in bed, sick. -He’s got a nervous chill.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> -<small>THE GYPSY QUEEN’S TALISMAN.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Thursday and Friday were usually the big -days at the fair in point of attendance; but, owing -no doubt to the novel exhibition so widely advertised -to begin this day, long before noon it -was apparent that the directors had made a wise -investment when they spent eighteen hundred -dollars for an aeroplane. The pike leading to -the fair-ground lay beneath a cloud of dust, the -hitch racks were full, and, on the basis of number -of visitors, the exhibition was really in full -blast a day ahead of time.</p> - -<p>The last touches were hastily put on the exhibits -in the Agricultural, Floral and Machinery -Halls; the ice cream, candy, peanut and red -lemonade stands made a brave show of their -wares; the “nigger baby” and cane rack barkers -began appealing to young and old alike to try -their luck, and by noon, thousands of pushing, -tired and perspiring people attested that the fair -was already in full swing.</p> - -<p>The “three minute” trot and “free for all” -running races were carded for the afternoon, beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -at two o’clock; and the big event, the -startling, stupendous and spectacular flight of -the “Twentieth Century Marvel,” the aeroplane, -was to occur about three o’clock between heats -of the races.</p> - -<p>The curious spectators did not bother themselves -about the airship until after the dinner -hour. But, just about the time President Elder -announced to Bud that Lafe would not be able to -operate the airship, the crowd began to drift -toward the field within the race track. By two -o’clock, the pressure became so great that Bud, -the talkative carpenter who was yet with him, -and a special policeman detailed by Superintendent -Perry, were forced to drop the canvas side -over the front of the house, and devote their -time to protecting the starting track or rails.</p> - -<p>When the carpenter learned that Lafe was sick -and would be unable to direct the flight, he did -not hesitate to express his opinion.</p> - -<p>“Humph!” he exclaimed. “I guess he’s -sick, all right. And he began gettin’ sick right -after that old Gypsy spoke her piece. I don’t -blame him, neither.”</p> - -<p>“What’d you mean?” asked Bud, apparently -surprised. “You don’t mean the old woman -scared him?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<p>“She nigh scart me. You bet she did. Mr. -Pennington ain’t sick o’ overwork. The Gypsy -Queen jes’ nacherly scart him into a chill.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe it,” said Bud. “He may be -scared—I rather thought myself he was weakenin’ -this morning, but he’d be a fool to let a -woman put over such a bluff.”</p> - -<p>The carpenter shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know no law agin’ his bein’ a fool,” -he added.</p> - -<p>Bud made no answer. He knew well enough -that the carpenter’s theory was right. Whether -Lafe had the physical courage to trust himself -in the aeroplane Bud had no way of knowing. -But his own eyes told him that Pennington had -not the moral courage to throw off the prophecy -of Zecatacas, the Gypsy Queen. In his heart, he -felt sorry for Lafe, for he himself had a most distinct -and disagreeable recollection of the Gypsy’s -depressing prediction.</p> - -<p>The first thump of horses’ feet on the race -track when the “three minute” trotters came -out to warm up and the “ding,” “ding,” -“ding,” of the warning bell in the judges’ stand -took away a part of the crowd, but enough remained -to put the starting track in constant danger. -Finally, Bud managed to secure a long rope,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -and the carpenter staked off a pen in front of the -shed. This protected the apparatus, but it made -Bud conspicuous, and the crowd began to hail -comment on him.</p> - -<p>“Hey, there, Bud Wilson,” shouted a young -man. “They’re a givin’ it out over yender that -you’re goin’ up in the airship.”</p> - -<p>Bud smiled and nodded his head. The crowd -pushed forward.</p> - -<p>“I reckon yer likely to come down right smart -faster nor ye go up,” exclaimed a rural humorist.</p> - -<p>“Not none o’ thet in mine,” added another -voice. “Not fur love nur money.”</p> - -<p>“What won’t they be a doin’ nex?” exclaimed -a fourth.</p> - -<p>Bud smiled and said nothing. But, just at -this time, seeing a familiar figure in the crowd, -he sprang forward, lifted the rope and beckoned -Madame Zecatacas, the Gypsy Queen, to come -inside. She did so, and, while a hubbub of protest -and inquiry arose from the crowd, Bud led -the picturesquely bedecked fortune teller to the -airship shed, lifted the canvas flap and signed -to her to enter. The old woman had now none -of the creepy, malignant look she exhibited the -night before. She was rather fawning than -otherwise.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Look a’ here, Madame Zecatacas,” Bud began -at once. “I reckon you don’t know what a -commotion you made last night. They say you -scared my friend sick.”</p> - -<p>“The Gypsy Queen sees all things—knows -all,” began the old woman in her usual singsong. -“He who spits on—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, see here,” interrupted Bud. “He didn’t -spit on you, and didn’t mean anything agin’ -you. You’re a little touchy ain’t you?”</p> - -<p>Madame Zecatacas gave him something like -the look she gave Lafe the night before. Then -her face relaxed into a smile. She ignored the -question.</p> - -<p>“The young gentleman has a good hand. -Money, and the Gypsy Queen will bring him good -fortune.”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t got but ten cents,” laughed Bud.</p> - -<p>The Gypsy scowled.</p> - -<p>“Here,” he exclaimed hastily. “Don’t begin -that with me. Don’t put any high sign on me. -I ain’t got time to have a chill.”</p> - -<p>“The Gypsy Queen can do much.”</p> - -<p>“I can see that, good enough,” answered Bud -promptly, thinking of Lafe, “but I haven’t the -price. If I had, I’d try you a whirl. I never -had my fortune told. See here, Mrs. Zecatacas,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -what do I get for lettin’ you in here free gratis -for nothin’? Right next the airship, too? I’d -think you’d tell me a few good things just to -show there’s no hard feelin’.”</p> - -<p>The Gypsy tried to scowl again, but Bud’s -exuberance was too much for her. She reached -forward and took his hand.</p> - -<p>“Look out now,” urged Bud. “Nothin’ bum. -Don’t give me the willies. I got to do my flyin’ -stunt in a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>“Long life,” began the Gypsy.</p> - -<p>“Bully for you,” exclaimed Bud. “Now, just -tell me I’ll get an education and travel, and have -money enough to buy an aeroplane, and we’ll -call it square.”</p> - -<p>“And much trouble—”</p> - -<p>“Shut her off,” interrupted the boy, with assumed -concern. “Come to think of it, I don’t -need my fortune read. I’m goin’ to make my -own.”</p> - -<p>“A strange man will bring you much trouble—”</p> - -<p>“Beware of a dark stranger,” laughed Bud. -“That’s all right, Mrs. Zecatacas, I’ll watch for -him. Now, I’ll show you around a bit and then -I guess you’d better be going.”</p> - -<p>For a few minutes, Bud explained, as well as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -he could, the general features of the aeroplane. -In the midst of this, he heard animated talk just -outside the canvas door, and, as it was quickly -thrown aside, the Scottsville Chief of Police, -Matthew Marsh, or Mat Marsh, as he was universally -known, stepped inside the tent.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Bud,” he began. “Heard you was in -charge here. An’ got company, too. Don’t -want to make no disturbance, but I’m lookin’ -fur your friend.” He looked at Madame Zecatacas, -and motioned her toward him. “I want -you,” he added officially. “I got a warrant for -you.”</p> - -<p>The old woman gazed at him in astonishment, -and then appealingly at Bud.</p> - -<p>“Got a warrant for her!” exclaimed the boy. -“What for?”</p> - -<p>“Assault and battery,” answered Chief -Marsh laconically.</p> - -<p>“Who’s she assaulted?”</p> - -<p>“Judge Pennington issued it on complaint o’ -his boy.”</p> - -<p>“Lafe?”</p> - -<p>“Yep. Lafe says the old lady jumped on him -las’ night and assaulted him. Guess it’s right. -He’s home in bed.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a lie,” retorted Bud angrily, “and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -don’t believe Lafe ever said so. I saw it all. -It’s a lie.”</p> - -<p>“You seen it?” commented the Chief.</p> - -<p>“All of it—right here. But there wasn’t any -fight. Nothin’ like it.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon the old lady and her son-in-law better -subpoena you fur a witness.”</p> - -<p>“Has the man been arrested, too?”</p> - -<p>The Chief nodded his head.</p> - -<p>“When’s the trial?” asked Bud indignantly.</p> - -<p>This time, the Chief shook his head the other -way.</p> - -<p>“You let me know,” exclaimed Bud. “I’m -beginnin’ to get onto this deal. I want to be -there and testify. These people didn’t do a thing -out of the way. There’s four of us’ll swear to -it. This is Judge Pennington’s doings.”</p> - -<p>The Chief wiped his perspiring bald head.</p> - -<p>“How do ye figure that?” he said at last.</p> - -<p>Bud was silent a few moments, and in each one -of these he became more angry. Finally, he -burst out in his indignation.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t blamin’ Lafe,” he said, “but he -talked pretty raw to Mrs. Zecatacas last night, -and she handed it right back. An’ gypsy-like she -talked about hard luck and trouble and things -like that ’til Lafe kind o’ got cold feet on reskin’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -anything to-day. That’s what I think anyway. -Now he’s home in bed, sick or scared or both. -An’ when he told his father about what took -place out here, the Judge didn’t do a thing but -fake up this complaint just to get even. He’s -sore because I’ve got the chance an’ Lafe ain’t. -I didn’t expect to do no knockin’, but that’s -just the way it’ll all figure out. You can -take it right straight from me.”</p> - -<p>The Chief looked knowingly at Bud, and then -closed one eye.</p> - -<p>“Bein’ an officer o’ the law, I ain’t takin’ -sides an’ I don’t have no opinion. But I heerd -what you said. Come on, old lady.”</p> - -<p>Madame Zecatacas straightened up and glared -at the policeman. Bud stepped over and patted -her on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“You can’t get out of it—now—Mrs. Zecatacas. -Go along quietly, and if you want me for -a witness or any of the men who were here last -night, you tell Mr. Marsh. I’ll come and testify -for you.”</p> - -<p>The gypsy caught his hands in hers, pressed -them, and then with a swift movement laid two -brown fingers on Bud’s forehead. With another -swift motion, she pointed to the aeroplane and -exclaimed:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The Gypsy Queen gives you good luck.”</p> - -<p>This happened in an instant, but before Bud -could recover from his surprise, the withered -dame reached forth her hand once more, and -forced into Bud’s palm a small object. Then, -without further word, she followed the Chief of -Police.</p> - -<p>In his fingers, Bud found a heavy ring—dull -of color, and yet, apparently not brass. Sunk in -the top of it, was a worn, opaque, green stone -in the shape of a bug. Bud did not know it, but -the stone was a sacred Egyptian scarab.</p> - -<p>“Good luck from the Gypsy Queen,” repeated -Bud, a little upset. “Well, anyway, good or bad, -here goes,” and he slipped the worn ring upon -his third finger.</p> - -<p>Outside the shed, Bud found the waiting crowd -almost too much for the men on guard, with a -new stream thronging toward the aviation -grounds from the race-track. At the head of -this, marched President Elder, Superintendent -Perry and the other officials. Bud knew his -part of the day’s program was due. He glanced -skyward. There was almost no breeze.</p> - -<p>“Everything ready?” asked Mr. Elder, in -a quick businesslike tone. “It’s just been announced -from the judges’ stand.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ought to hear ’em yell when I told ’em how -Mr. Bud Wilson, a product of our own city, -would operate the machine,” added the Superintendent.</p> - -<p>Bud was too busy to parry personal compliments. -While Superintendent Perry and the -President lifted the canvas front and drove the -crowd back, Bud tested the ignition battery, re-oiled -the shaft bearings, looked a last time for -possible leaks in the gasoline reservoir and then -for an instant only, set the engine in motion. -As it stopped and the vibrating frame settled -back on its trusses, he knew of nothing more to -be done.</p> - -<p>Outside he could hear the President and the -Superintendent shouting commands and exhortations.</p> - -<p>“Git back there, now, all o’ you, ’at don’t -want to git hurt. Mr. Wilson’s got to have -room. Anybody ’at gits hit’ll be killed. Git -back there, everybody. You can all see. ’Taint -no horse race. Stand back! The aeroplane will -circle around the track. You kin all see. Give -us room here,” the superintendent kept crying.</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” added President -Elder, mounting the lower brace of the weight -derrick. “It is only proper for me to announce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -once more that we are only able to make this -exhibition to-day through the kindness of a -Scottsville boy, Mr. Bud Wilson. The expert -who was to operate our aeroplane disappointed -us. But, rather than disappoint you, Mr. Wilson -has volunteered to risk his life in exhibiting this -wonderful invention. I hope you will help him -by giving us ample room, and that you will refrain -from rushing forward, if there happens to -be an accident. We must have no interference, -and, on behalf of Mr. Wilson, I ask absolute silence -while he is adjusting the aeroplane for its -hazardous plunge into space.”</p> - -<p>A murmur ran through the crowd which, in a -moment, died away into an awed silence. The -speech and the silence that fell immediately upon -the thousands present attracted Bud’s attention. -He turned from his lingering look at the craft -that meant so much to him just in time to find -President Elder motioning to him. He stepped -to the official’s side. As he did so, Mr. Elder -sprang from the derrick and laid his hand on -Bud’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” shouted the president -in a voice that could be heard at the far -edge of the expectant jam, “I take great pleasure -in presenting to you Mr. Bud Wilson, our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -aviator. Good luck and success to you, Bud,” -he added, melodramatically taking the boy’s -hand.</p> - -<p>A woman in the crowd sobbed and Bud, red -with embarrassment, hastened into the shed.</p> - -<p>“What’d you do that for?” exclaimed Bud, -as the President joined him.</p> - -<p>“Do what?” laughed Mr. Elder.</p> - -<p>“Why shake hands that way and say that. I -ain’t no circus.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” answered the fair official. -“That’s just what you are. This is a show. -And we want to make it worth our eighteen -hundred dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see.”</p> - -<p>“And that isn’t all. The real performance is -yet to come. You don’t suppose you’re just -going to shoot away in silence. Did you ever see -’em ‘loop the loop’ in a circus? Well, we’ve got -that beat a mile. Listen. I’ll release the weight -that starts you. When you are ready to get into -the car, I’ll get up and tell ’em that any sound -may distract you and cause a fatal accident. -When they are absolutely still, you’ll take your -seat and I’ll take my place at the weight cord. -Then I’ll say in a solemn voice: ‘When you are -ready, Mr. Wilson, say Go.’ You’ll look about,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -settle yourself, wait a few moments and then, -sharp and quick, shout ‘Go!’ Then if you do go, -the crowd’ll feel it has its twenty-five cents’ -worth.”</p> - -<p>Bud laughed.</p> - -<p>“Funny you didn’t bring a pair of tights,” -he commented.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> -<small>A FOOLHARDY TRICK IN AN AEROPLANE.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>For one moment, a feeling of doubt swept over -Bud—not fear of an accident—it was only the -first dread of all amateurs—apprehension that -his performance might not go off all right. When -he glanced out over the thousands waiting to see -what was he going to do and realized that all -these people were waiting for him—it was -enough to give a youngster stage fright. While -he paused, he felt Madame Zecatacas’ ring, her -good luck charm.</p> - -<p>“What more does a fellow need?” Bud said to -himself. “All ready,” he exclaimed aloud, suddenly -reassured, and springing to the center of -the aeroplane frame between the engine section -and the rear rudder struts, he directed the others -in the shed to places along the truss. Then as -gently as if moving a man with a broken leg, the -long, wiry white planes of the airship were carried -out into the full view of the crowd.</p> - -<p>The “Ohs” and “Ahs” were soon lost in the -noise of the shuffling, eager audience. Men and -women crowded forward, clouds of dust arose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -and the rope barrier broke before the clamoring -spectators. Those carrying the machine could -only call out threats until the aeroplane had -been deposited over the starting track and the -landing skids fitted into the greased grooves. -Then Bud sprang onto the fragile frame work. -Waving his hand at the people, he shouted:</p> - -<p>“The aeroplane is going to shoot straight -along this track fast as an engine. If any of you -folks get in its way, you’ll be smashed. There -ain’t goin’ to be no start until you all get back -and stay back.”</p> - -<p>Then he sprang to the ground and for five -minutes, he, the president, superintendent and -the others helping, struggled with the slowly -receding flood of people. At last the rope barrier -was re-established and Bud, hot and perspiring, -felt that the trial might be safely attempted. -As a precaution, he went into the -shed and put on his coat. This one act seemed to -calm the crowd.</p> - -<p>“Goin’ to be cold up in the clouds?” inquired -one facetious onlooker.</p> - -<p>For answer, Bud fastened the right-angled -hook attached to the end of the starting rope to -the lowest cross brace of the forward rudder -frame and then, with the help of the carpenter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -and the superintendent, pushed the aeroplane -backward on the two tracks until the rope was -taut. The bags of sand weighing 1500 pounds -were already at the top of the derrick, and the -release cord was ready for President Elder’s -manipulation.</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget the program,” whispered that -official, as he stepped by Bud.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go you one better,” answered the boy, -with a smile. Then, recalling what he had often -seen in circuses, Bud stepped a few paces forward -and looked the car over critically. This -was wholly for effect, but with a most concerned -face, the young aviator squinted at the ship of -the air from two or three angles. Then he -mounted the end of the starting rail and looked -critically into the sky, even holding up his hand -as if to test the air.</p> - -<p>“Purty resky business,” volunteered one man -in the front line.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t agoin’ to take no chances,” suggested -another.</p> - -<p>Then, Bud ignoring, but drinking in with -great satisfaction these and many other nervous -comments, walked rapidly to the aeroplane, and, -with well assumed professional rapidity, felt and -shook several braces.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I reckon he knows what he’s about, all -right,” Bud heard some one say, and the boy, -losing his smile for a moment, wondered if he -did.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t no use puttin’ it off longer,” he said -to himself, and he waved his hand toward the -fair president. Mr. Elder at once ascended to -the derrick cross brace, and removing his hat -with a flourish, shouted:</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen: Mr. Wilson announces -that all is ready for his daring flight into -the clouds. I must ask that each and every one -of you maintain complete silence. Any undue -noise may divert the attention of the operator -and the slightest disturbance may mean his instant -death.”</p> - -<p>The mob seemed to sink back in awe. Bud -and President Elder were perhaps the only persons -present whose hearts were not, figuratively, -in their mouths. The bareheaded president -raised his hand. You might have heard a pin -drop.</p> - -<p>“When you are ready, Mr. Wilson, say ‘Go.’”</p> - -<p>Throwing on the ignition and giving the balance -wheel a turn, Bud saw the white propellers -begin to revolve. As they gathered speed and -the engine was fully in motion—the car beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -to tremble under the impact—Bud sprang -into the little seat, thrust his feet into the hanging -supports and grasped the levers.</p> - -<p>As his lips framed themselves to give the final -signal, a flying figure shot into his sight. A man -panting, and with his hat in his hand was rushing -across the cleared space closely pursued by -one of the special policemen. Hardly able to -speak, his arm wildly gesticulating, the new arrival -was shouting:</p> - -<p>“Stop, stop. I just got here. What are you -doin’?”</p> - -<p>“Get out o’ the way,” shouted Bud in reply. -“Get off that track.”</p> - -<p>“I’m Dare,” panted the man. “Who’s tryin’ -to run this? Stop!”</p> - -<p>“Get off that track,” shouted Bud again.</p> - -<p>“You’ll break your neck,” the breathless man -managed to get out. But he saw the car trembling -for the start, and he began moving aside.</p> - -<p>“Where’s Mr. Elder?” he cried. “Wait a -minute. I’ll make the flight. Hold on!”</p> - -<p>“Go,” rang out from the boy in the aeroplane.</p> - -<p>It came like a pistol shot, clear and distinct. -But President Elder at the weight rope hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Go,” came once more.</p> - -<p>There was a note of command in the one word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -that startled the official. Whatever his judgment -was at the moment, President Elder mechanically -jerked the cord. With a crashing -creak of the derrick and a thud of falling sand -bags, the starting rope whipped over the pulleys; -there was a spray of melted tallow thrown fifty -feet into the air by the flying skids; five thousand -spectators gasped and fell back as if panic -stricken, and the aeroplane smoked forward as -if rushing into a vacuum.</p> - -<p>Half way along the track, the rocking aeroplane -seemed to lose headway for an instant. -The pressure of the air in front and the force -of the propellers behind had equalled and overcome -the force of gravity. As the starting rope -hook fell from the frame, the two great planes, -like a kite in the wind, darted into a giant -leap ahead.</p> - -<p>Hundreds of spectators, still lingering in the -path of the airship, threw themselves onto the -ground just in time. The aeroplane almost -touched the earth as the leap seemed to slacken, -but this Bud had been anticipating. He did not -know whether the first dart of the car would be -up or down, to the right or left. But he did know -that there was not one chance in a thousand -that the flight would be straight ahead and upward.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -What professional aviators had learned -by long experience, Bud knew he had to get -by sheer cool headed pluck.</p> - -<p>He had thought over this idea so constantly -that his muscles were set and ready like springs. -Not even the narrow escape of the people in front -of him rattled the boy. His body was cold from -a realization of the great risk he was taking, -but this did not disconcert him. When Bud -shouted the word that was to hurl him into the -air, he dismissed every thought from his mind -but this: “up, down, right, left.”</p> - -<p>It was all done in a second, but Bud’s thinking -apparatus responded. “Down,” his whole -being cried out, and his muscles responded like -a spring. Almost before the boy could realize -what he was doing, he had thrown the front, horizontal -rudder up. In another instant he knew -he was going to fly; the ground dropped beneath -him, and then a tremendous roar sounded in his -ears. He gasped. But the sound was only the -wild cheers of the multitude beneath. He <em>was</em> -flying—the aeroplane was soaring swiftly upward. -It was like falling in a dream. With nervous -dread, the boy looked about. Then came -his third shock—the fair-grounds were already -behind him. He had passed beyond the territory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -in which he was to operate. He was at least -three hundred feet in the air.</p> - -<p>Suddenly all fear, apprehension and nervousness -left Bud.</p> - -<p>“It’s all over now,” he said to himself. -“These things don’t fall like rocks. If the engine -stops, I’ll come down like a parachute. -Here goes to do my stunt.”</p> - -<p>A minute later, Bud was directing the aeroplane -along the back stretch of the race track -about one hundred and fifty feet above the -ground. It all seemed so easy that he wondered -why he had had any apprehension. In the midst -of a chorus of yells and hurrahs from the hundreds -who were vainly trying to keep pace with -the aeroplane, Bud at last heard one positive -voice:</p> - -<p>“Get nearer the ground, you fool.”</p> - -<p>The boy could not distinguish the man calling, -but he recognized the voice. It was that of the -stranger—the expert, T. Glenn Dare. So far, -Bud had not time to think over the sudden appearance -of the long waited for man. But he -smiled as the episode came back to him.</p> - -<p>“That must have been the Gypsy Queen’s -ring,” he thought to himself. “Any way, I got -my chance. I’m satisfied.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then he wondered: “What will Mr. Dare do -when he makes a flight to-morrow. I wonder -if he’ll stay close to the ground. He’s only -jealous,” concluded Bud.</p> - -<p>Prompted by that foolish idea and more than -eager to take full advantage of his opportunity, -the gritty boy decided that he was not satisfied—he -determined, on a wild impulse, to test the airship -to its limit.</p> - -<p>Circling the half-mile track, he dropped down -nearer the ground as he passed the crowded -grand stand, but he was too intent on his work to -give any heed to the applause that greeted him. -The dusty track was packed with spectators -throwing their hats into the air and shouting: -“Let her out,” “Gimme a ride,” “Good boy, -Bud,” and such expressions rang in his ears, -but they did not draw even a smile.</p> - -<p>Again, the wonderful craft, true to her steering -gear and responding to her propellers in the -almost dead calm, circled the track. But this -time, as Bud reached the lower turn, he veered -off to the left. As the inclined planes moved forward -toward the center of the track, Bud put -his indiscreet resolution into effect.</p> - -<p>By the time he reached the far end of the track -he was five hundred feet in the air. Then, instead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -of turning, he held his course beyond the -enclosure out over the adjoining fields and pastures. -Here, with a long sweep in the air, he -turned and headed over the grounds once more. -By the time he had passed the grand-stand again, -he was at least a thousand feet in the air.</p> - -<p>At that moment, the boy began to regret his -foolhardiness. To turn at that height, with the -sinking swing that always followed such an operation, -was enough to try the nerve of the most -experienced. And, to make matters worse, Bud -perversely held to his ascending flight. When -the limits of the grounds had been again passed, -the novice was, it was afterwards estimated, -fourteen hundred feet in the air.</p> - -<p>“Now,” muttered Bud, “it’s sink or swim.”</p> - -<p>Closing his eyes, with one hand he threw the -vertical lever slowly over for the turn, and at -the same moment, he threw up the plane tips -with the warping lever. It was almost sickening, -the long swoop that followed, but, as Bud -felt the warped surface checking the dip, he -breathed again. Then he opened his eyes. The -airship shed fell on his vision dead ahead and not -far below.</p> - -<p>Gritting his teeth to keep up his courage, the -youngster made ready to complete his program.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -As the aeroplane steadied, Bud pushed the horizontal -planes downward, and as the bird-like -craft began to descend, he turned and shut off -the engine.</p> - -<p>“They say any one can fly,” said Bud to himself, -“but that it takes judgment to make a landing. -I’ll either make or break right here.”</p> - -<p>As the swiftly whirling blades of the propellers -stopped, the aeroplane’s flight slackened. -Then the ivory-winged truss began to settle like -a softly falling leaf. A mass of black heads appeared -beneath. Suddenly, they separated, and -Bud saw the ground rising as if to meet him. It -was the crucial moment. The horizontal rudders -sprang up, the airship seemed to pause, -then with a feeble response to her steering gear, -it rose a few feet and drifted along over the -trodden grass. Then the landing skids touched -the ground—there was a slight rebound, and -Bud’s flight was at an end.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> -<small>AMATEUR VS. PROFESSIONAL.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Every one in the yelling, pushing crowd -seemed to be trying to get hold of the aeroplane. -But again the policemen forced the spectators -back and Bud saw, even before he alighted, and a -good deal to his disgust, that Mr. Dare seemed -to be in charge of the situation. As the young -aviator climbed from the frame, the professional -and President Elder confronted him:</p> - -<p>“Young man,” said the former, in a very superior -tone, “you’re in luck to be alive. Haven’t -you any sense?”</p> - -<p>Bud looked him over. The man was about -thirty-five years old, rather nattily dressed in -grey clothes, a blue scarf and a chauffeur’s cap. -Two or three sharp replies occurred to Bud, but -he suppressed them, and turned to Mr. Elder. -The latter walked into the tent, and motioned to -Bud to follow. Then the boy suddenly realized -that the fair president was trembling with anger.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” he began at once, trying to be calm, -“didn’t I tell you what to do? Didn’t I give -you your program? Wasn’t you to fly three -times around the track and then come down?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And you don’t like it because I varied it a -little? Because I gave ’em a good run for their -money?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder shook his finger before the boy’s -face.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Dare tells me it was one chance in a -thousand that you didn’t smash the machine.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t worry about my breaking my neck at -the same time, did he?” asked Bud with a smile.</p> - -<p>“We risked two thousand dollars’ worth of -property in your possession, and you took every -chance you could with it—”</p> - -<p>“Including the risk of my own life,” retorted -Bud. “Look here, Mr. Elder, I wouldn’t get -excited over what T. Glenn Dare thinks. He has -good reason to find fault with me.”</p> - -<p>The fair official made a new gesture of impatience.</p> - -<p>“That’s neither here nor there. Going up -that way was a crazy thing to do, and you ought -to be ashamed of yourself.”</p> - -<p>Bud looked at the ground a moment. Then he -said:</p> - -<p>“That’s my usual luck, Mr. Elder. I don’t -make any excuses. I see I’m in the wrong, and -I’ll take the short cut out. I haven’t hurt your -airship, and there she is. Mr. T. Glenn Dare is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -here ready to take charge of it. I thank you for -the chance you gave me.”</p> - -<p>Bud started away.</p> - -<p>“Here, Bud! Come here!”</p> - -<p>Bud paused, but he did not return. “I guess -we don’t need you any more, but there ain’t -no call to go ’way mad.”</p> - -<p>“You said I ought to be ashamed of myself. -I’m going where I can feel ashamed without attracting -attention.”</p> - -<p>Bud smiled, and Mr. Elder looked a little embarrassed.</p> - -<p>“I reckon if your fifty-dollar-a-day man had -gone up there and done what I did, you’d all -be pattin’ him on the back. Like as not there’d -be a piece in the paper about it.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder was even more embarrassed.</p> - -<p>“When he goes up to-morrow,” went on Bud, -“I reckon you’d better insist that he skim -around over the ground. I tell you what I think, -Mr. Elder,” said Bud, suddenly growing more -serious, “a big bluff goes a long ways. You -wouldn’t dare to criticise your professional -aviator. Why? Because he’s an expert. And -yet there isn’t one of you knows whether he -knows more about aeroplanes than I do. He’ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -get the glad hand. I get a good swift kick. -Good bye.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder was at Bud’s side before he could -leave the shed.</p> - -<p>“You certainly are a touchy boy,” he said in -a not unkind voice. “I don’t see why I should -apologize to you,” he added, “but I’d like to -do one thing—here’s ten dollars for helping -us out.”</p> - -<p>Bud looked up with a peculiar expression. -Never before in his life had he earned so much -money in practically one day. For a moment, -he worked his foot back and forth in the dust. -Then he said:</p> - -<p>“That just proves what I said. It’s the bluff -that gets the money and the praise. I told you -I’d do what I could for nothing. I’m satisfied -if you are. But, if I took any pay, why shouldn’t -I have as much as your professional?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder grew red in the face.</p> - -<p>“He is to get fifty dollars a day. What can he -do that I haven’t done? I’m much obliged to -you, Mr. Elder, and I don’t want you to put me -down as a smart aleck. I either work for nothing -or I’m worth as much as the fellow who is no -better.”</p> - -<p>The disturbed official became restless.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You mean you want fifty dollars?” he exclaimed, -almost in consternation.</p> - -<p>“I should say not,” retorted Bud, “but,” and -he laughed outright, “if you offer me anything, -don’t make it a cent less.”</p> - -<p>Before the perplexed official could say anything, -Bud was gone. The crowd was in a thick -ring around the aeroplane, and the boy had no -trouble in making his way almost unobserved -out of the race-track field. With ten cents in -his pocket and tired and sleepy, he hurried toward -the entrance. No one seemed to recognize -in him the “hero of the aeroplane,” the skilled -and daring aviator who had just made a record -breaking flight of 1400 feet in the air.</p> - -<p>Money came too hard with Bud to permit him -to spend his ten cents for a ride to town in a -hack. For that reason, although it was not yet -much after four o’clock, he set out on foot to -cover the two-mile walk to his home—or Attorney -Cyrus Stockwell’s house. This was not -a pretentious building, but, being on the edge of -town, it had considerable ground around it, and -the old two-story frame structure had been Bud’s -home for nearly ten years.</p> - -<p>Bud’s father had at one time owned a small -foundry in Scottsville; but, his health failing, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -disposed of it, moved to the country, and tried -farming on a small scale. Mrs. Wilson was a -cousin of Mrs. Stockwell’s, and when both Bud’s -parents died the same winter, the boy, at Mrs. -Stockwell’s suggestion, went to live with the -Stockwells. There he had been ever since.</p> - -<p>Reaching the house, Bud found it locked tight -as wax. Undoubtedly the lawyer and his wife -had gone to the fair. The key, usually hidden -under the strip of rag carpet on the front porch, -was not there. But this did not interfere much -with Bud. In the rear was a summer kitchen -with an adjoining grape arbor. On this arbor, -Bud had more than once made nocturnal ascents -and descents to and from the kitchen roof, and -thus to the window of his own room.</p> - -<p>Shinning up the arbor, he easily entered the -house through the window of his room. It was -dark and close within, but the returned wanderer -was hungry and he hurried at once to the kitchen. -Mrs. Stockwell did not mind Bud “piecing,” -but she was particular about the neatness of her -kitchen. So, instead of leaving traces of his attack -on the larder, Bud used no dishes. He -found milk in the ice box. A dipperful of that -was consumed, and the dipper washed and returned -to its hook.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then with a slice of cold boiled ham, the back, -two wings and the neck of some fried chicken, -six doughnuts, two pieces of bread covered with -new grape jelly, and an apple, Bud went to his -room. Long before his foster parents returned -from the fair, Bud, his hunger satisfied, had undressed, -washed himself and gone to bed.</p> - -<p>About seven o’clock, Attorney Stockwell, who -had been reading the local paper on the front -porch, stuck his head into the kitchen and asked -if supper would soon be ready.</p> - -<p>“I kind o’ been waitin’ thinkin’ maybe Bud’d -come home this evening,” was Mrs. Stockwell’s -answer.</p> - -<p>“You don’t need to count on him, I reckon,” -answered her husband. “He probably won’t -think much about home long as that airship is -on his mind.”</p> - -<p>“It’s funny to me,” added Mrs. Stockwell, -stirring the potatoes, “that he wouldn’t take -no pay. Goodness knows he could use it. The -boy ain’t got hardly a whole shirt to his back.”</p> - -<p>“He’ll have to be doin’ something soon,” -said the attorney. “I can’t keep him here for -nothin’ all his life. An’ he’s nearly grown -now.”</p> - -<p>His wife sighed:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He’s been a purty good boy at that. An’ -he’s been quite a help to me. I dunno how I’d -get along without him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you better not wait for him. He’s -gettin’ altogether too smart. If he’s too proud -to take the money he earned, I ain’t. President -Elder gave it to me to hold for him, <em>in trust</em>, -but I guess Bud owes me a good deal more’n -that.”</p> - -<p>The Stockwells ate their supper without Bud, -although there was enough talk about him. That -evening the lawyer made inquiries in the boy’s -usual haunts, but no one had seen him since -the aeroplane landed. So the evening passed until -nine o’clock, at which hour Attorney Stockwell -was summoned by telephone to come at -once to Mr. Elder’s private office in the First -National Bank. Here he found a hastily called -conference of fair directors. The president was -there with Judge Pennington and Mr. Waldron, -a country member.</p> - -<p>“Here it is in a nutshell,” explained President -Elder. “We either call this fellow’s bluff, -or let him ‘play horse’ with us. What’ll it be?”</p> - -<p>The situation was this: Mr. T. Glenn Dare, -the aeroplane expert, gave as a reason for his -failure to appear that he had not expected to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -reach Scottsville until noon of the previous day. -The work of setting up the airship, he explained, -would have required but a few hours. The reason -for his non-arrival at noon of the day before -was because he had gone to Scottsville, Kentucky, -a small and out-of-the-way place requiring -a drive across country, and having no telephone -or telegraph. Returning to Cincinnati, he had -“wired” the fair officials, after telegraphing -east to his employers for instructions, and had -then hastened to Scottsville, making the last -stage of his journey by trolley car.</p> - -<p>This explanation was not satisfactory to Mr. -Elder. Mr. Dare confessed he had not seen any -letters to his firm from the fair officials, and had -started west with only a memorandum of his -destination. He would not concede that his firm -had made a mistake, and boldly asserted that the -mix up was probably due to carelessness on the -part of the fair committee.</p> - -<p>“All right,” Mr. Elder had said. “You say -you were in Cincinnati early to-day. Why didn’t -you send us word you’d be here? No telegram -reached any of us.”</p> - -<p>“How do I know that?” impudently asked -Mr. Dare. “Looks to me as if you people were -trying to beat me out of a job.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And it looks to me, to speak right out,” replied -Mr. Elder in considerable heat, “as if you -might have been drunk for two or three days.”</p> - -<p>Instead of indignantly resenting this suggestion, -Mr. Dare only got red in the face and offered -to produce innumerable affidavits that he -had been wandering around the country since -Monday morning looking for Scottsville and that -he never indulged in intoxicating beverages.</p> - -<p>This interview between Mr. Elder and Expert -Dare had taken place on the fair-grounds just -after Bud disappeared and the car had been -housed for the night. It left anything but cordial -relations between the two men. But the -explosion came later. As Mr. Elder was instructing -the watchmen concerning the care of -the airship during the night, Mr. Dare approached.</p> - -<p>“In order that we have no further misunderstanding, -I’d like to have a check for one hundred -and fifty dollars—the three days I’ve already -lost.”</p> - -<p>The president, put out over his encounter with -Bud, and disgruntled over the conduct of the -expert, whirled like a wild man.</p> - -<p>“A check for one hundred and fifty dollars?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You don’t suppose I’m coming all the way -out here for fun, do you?” sneeringly answered -Mr. Dare.</p> - -<p>“Just put this in your pipe and smoke it,” -snorted the fair president, shaking his finger in -the expert’s face. “You’ll get paid when you go -to work—that’s the contract. There wasn’t a -thing said about comin’ or goin’. For the three -days left this week, we’ll pay you just fifty -dollars each day. Not a cent more.”</p> - -<p>“That aeroplane won’t move a foot till I get -my money. And since this controversy about it, -you’d better pay in advance—three hundred -dollars. No money, no exhibition.”</p> - -<p>“We got along without you so far.”</p> - -<p>“Violating your contract, yes. Part of the -agreement of sale was that I was to operate the -car. We don’t turn out aeroplanes to every -Tom, Dick and Harry. Under your contract, -that car don’t go up unless I’m in it, and I -don’ go in it till I have my money. There’s -plenty of law to fix that. Do I get my money?”</p> - -<p>“Not a cent,” snapped Mr. Elder. “Bud Wilson -will go up in that machine to-morrow.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> -<small>BUD MAKES A STRANGE CONTRACT.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>President Elder told all this to the assembled -directors. A storm broke at once. Naturally, -Attorney Stockwell approved what the president -had done. He did it for two reasons: he was -anxious to get Bud a profitable job, and he saw -at once that Judge Pennington was opposed to -the action taken by Mr. Elder. In the lively -discussion, the other director, Mr. Waldron, -sided with Mr. Elder because Attorney Stockwell -had once opposed him in a lawsuit.</p> - -<p>Judge Pennington argued that Mr. T. Glenn -Dare would undoubtedly sue the association.</p> - -<p>“Let him,” exclaimed President Elder. “We -can beat him. He didn’t report, and I’m convinced -he was on a spree somewhere. Look at -the advantage. If we pay him what he demands, -it will be six days at fifty dollars a day. That’s -three hundred dollars. We can save that.”</p> - -<p>“This young Wilson won’t work for nothing, -will he?” asked Mr. Waldron.</p> - -<p>President Elder felt compelled at this point -to relate his experience with Bud. He told of offering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -to pay their amateur operator; how the -boy had refused the money, and how Attorney -Stockwell had finally accepted the sum to hold in -trust.</p> - -<p>Judge Pennington laughed outright.</p> - -<p>“An’ that’s what we’re up against, is it?” -he asked, with a chuckling sneer. “Wouldn’t -take ten dollars an’ wants fifty dollars? And -yet you’re takin’ the risk o’ a lawsuit just to -give him a job.”</p> - -<p>“But,” insisted the president, “you forget. -He’ll do in a pinch what he won’t do for wages. -He won’t work for ten dollars a day, but he’ll -work for nothing.”</p> - -<p>“Ef he’ll do that,” promptly suggested Director -Waldron, “I vote we give him the job.”</p> - -<p>“That ain’t treatin’ the boy right,” chimed -in Attorney Stockwell. “Be fair with him. -He’ll listen to reason. It’s worth more’n ten -dollars to risk your life that way. If you’ll -call it twenty-five dollars I’ll undertake to see -that he does the work.”</p> - -<p>“My Lafe would do it for nothin’ as a matter -o’ pride, if he wasn’t sick,” urged Judge Pennington.</p> - -<p>“But he is sick,” broke in Mr. Elder. “We’ve -fired our expert, an’ we’ve got to get some one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -or cut out the performance. I agree with Director -Stockwell. If we call it twenty-five dollars—and -that’ll only be for three more days—I’m convinced -Bud will help us out.”</p> - -<p>But Judge Pennington and Director Waldron -were stubborn. The matter was argued for -nearly an hour, and finally a compromise was -reached. President Elder was authorized to pay -to Bud not over twenty dollars a day to attempt -another ascent. Then the meeting adjourned. -At its conclusion, Attorney Stockwell hurried off -home to find Bud and tell him of his good fortune.</p> - -<p>Strangely enough, the lawyer had hardly disappeared -when the other three directors met -again on the bank steps.</p> - -<p>“That’s all we could do afore Stockwell,” -said Judge Pennington at once. “Ef we’d said -any more, Attorney Stockwell would have put a -bug in the boy’s ear an’ they’d have worked together. -What you want to do, Mr. Elder, is to -get the boy alone. I ain’t no love for him, but -I will say he gave us a good show, and I reckon -he can do it agin. Ef he won’t work for twenty -dollars, give him what’s necessary.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” replied President Elder, -“Stockwell is a good deal on the make. If he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -thought we’d stand for any more, he’d see that -the boy holds out for the highest figure.”</p> - -<p>“Better give him fifty dollars,” slowly conceded -Director Waldron, “ruther than put off -the show. An’ we’ll make money at that. But -it’s ridic’lous for a boy o’ his age.”</p> - -<p>“Get him at any figure in reason,” urged -Judge Pennington. “I want the fair to go off -with a boom. An’ if it’s up to the kid to make -it go—all right. But it’ll swell him up awful.”</p> - -<p>Before Attorney Stockwell reached his home, -Mrs. Stockwell had discovered Bud’s presence, -although she had not disturbed him. When her -husband reached the house and learned that his -adopted son was safe in bed, he was greatly relieved. -He went at once to Bud’s room. It -was after eleven o’clock. Arousing the sleeping -boy, he prepared to close the deal between Bud -and the fair association.</p> - -<p>Bud’s first response was to pull the covers over -his head and snore lustily.</p> - -<p>“Wake up, Bud, I want to talk to you.”</p> - -<p>“I have been here all the time,” sleepily responded -the boy. “I ain’t done nothin’. Is it -morning?”</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell shook him again until the -lad was fully awake. Then he asked him, somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -brusquely, what he meant “by riding such -a high horse” with Mr. Elder and refusing to -take the ten dollars.</p> - -<p>“Because I said I’d work for nothing,” said -Bud, crawling from under his sheet and sitting -on the bedside.</p> - -<p>“But they are willing to pay you, and pay you -well. Men don’t work for nothing. I work all -day for ten dollars,” added the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“That’s it,” said Bud. “I don’t want to -work all my life for ten dollars a day. I want -nothing or what I’m worth.”</p> - -<p>“Rubbish,” snorted the lawyer. “You talk -pretty swell for a boy who ain’t never yet made -enough to keep him.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon I owe you a good deal of money,” -exclaimed Bud, still blinking his sleepy eyes and -then looking at his foster father sharply.</p> - -<p>“We ain’t talkin’ about that,” answered the -lawyer evasively.</p> - -<p>“I know ‘<em>we</em>’ ain’t,” said Bud. “But <em>I</em> am. -You never talk about it when I want to. Why -did you take me in? Did my father leave me any -property?”</p> - -<p>“The courts’ll take care o’ that at the right -time,” replied Attorney Stockwell pompously.</p> - -<p>“All right,” replied Bud, sleepily. “When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -they do, you just take out all I’ve cost you and -quit throwin’ it up to me ever’ day.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer rose and walked about a moment -in an embarrassed way.</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, Bud. We won’t quarrel -about that. I ain’t puttin’ you out o’ house an’ -home. I didn’t wake you up to talk o’ that. I -got ten dollars here President Elder gave me to -give to you.”</p> - -<p>“Keep it yourself,” yawned Bud, “and I -won’t owe you so much.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve fired that Mr. Dare,” exclaimed the -lawyer, playing his trump card, “and we held a -meeting to-night to get another operator. We -elected you.”</p> - -<p>“Me?” exclaimed Bud, at last fully awake. -“Elected me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” went on the lawyer. “He got gay -with us—wanted pay for six days, and we discharged -him.”</p> - -<p>“And the fair people want me to sail the aeroplane -again?” continued Bud jubilantly.</p> - -<p>“That’s what was voted.”</p> - -<p>Bud sat up on the edge of the bed, his eyes -snapping and his face wreathed in smiles.</p> - -<p>“I guess Mr. Elder must have changed his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -mind,” Bud commented. “He told me I ‘ought -to be ashamed of myself.’”</p> - -<p>“He has. We’re all agreed. And we’ve -agreed, too, that you’re to have twenty-five -dollars a day for your work.”</p> - -<p>The boy straightened up as if he had been -struck. From smiles, his face became set, and -finally rebellious. He picked at the bed clothes -a moment, and then said:</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry they did that. I’d have done it -for nothing to help out. But when it comes to a -price, I’m worth just as much as Mr. Dare. If -they want to pay me, it’s fifty dollars a day.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t do for twenty-five dollars a day -what you’ll do for nothing?”</p> - -<p>“That’s it. I said I wouldn’t. That’s all -there is to it.”</p> - -<p>“You refuse,” said the lawyer, growing red -in the face.</p> - -<p>“You’ve said it.”</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell fumbled at his collar as -if he were choking. Then he sputtered:</p> - -<p>“You can think this over till morning. If you -don’t get some sense into your head by that time, -you’d better find some other place to live.”</p> - -<p>“Meaning I’m kicked out,” replied Bud instantly -and springing to his feet.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You can sleep over it,” added the lawyer. -“Don’t need to act hastily. But it’s no use us -trying to get along together if you’re too proud -to help out when I get you a good job.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t need to sleep over it,” answered Bud -promptly. “My sleepin’ is done for to-night. If -that’s the verdict, we’ll call it quits.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer was palpably embarrassed. He -was afraid to put Bud out for reasons best known -to himself, but he felt like it.</p> - -<p>“I’ll see you later,” he snapped suddenly, -and left the room.</p> - -<p>Bud’s sleeping wasn’t as nearly finished as -he thought. With youthful agility, he turned in -again, and did not awaken until daylight. The -Stockwells breakfasted early, but Bud’s chores -were done when his foster father appeared. -Somewhat to Bud’s surprise, the affair of the -night before was not recalled, and the boy was -about to escape from the breakfast table when -he was surprised to see President Elder’s well -known rig dash up to the house.</p> - -<p>“You won’t listen to me,” explained the lawyer, -in no very good humor, “so Mr. Elder has -come to reason with you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it for fifty dollars or nothing,” -stoutly insisted Bud.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - -<p>When Mr. Elder appeared on the porch—and -it was apparent that he was not overflowing with -good humor—he wasted very little time. After -greeting the lawyer and his wife, he said:</p> - -<p>“Bud, we worked together pretty well yesterday. -Come with me. I want to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Go along,” exclaimed Attorney Stockwell, -in a tone of authority. But this was not needed. -Bud needed no urging. With a smile, he led the -way to the buggy.</p> - -<p>The fair official started toward the center of -the town. Before he could open negotiations, -Bud exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Elder, I reckon I know what you want. -You’ve fallen out with the guy that threw us -down and you want me to do the aeroplane stunt -again.”</p> - -<p>President Elder smiled.</p> - -<p>“You know what I said yesterday,” went on -Bud. “I don’t like to break my word. But don’t -you think you people are makin’ me purty -cheap?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not as cheap as you think!”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Stockwell told me I’m to get twenty-five -dollars.”</p> - -<p>“And you think that ain’t enough?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Fifty dollars,” said Bud with a smile, “or -nothing.”</p> - -<p>The thrifty official grasped at this straw.</p> - -<p>“Are you willing to do it for nothing?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. But I’ll do it as a favor, and I want a -favor in return.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” asked Mr. Elder suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“Well,” went on Bud, with some embarrassment, -“you’re a big man in this town, Mr. -Elder. You can get about anything you want. -I reckon Judge Pennington would do you a favor -if you asked.”</p> - -<p>“Are you in trouble with Judge Pennington?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not. But two of my friends are. See -that, Mr. Elder,” continued Bud, showing the -ring Madame Zecatacas had given him. His -companion gazed at it intently.</p> - -<p>“That’s a charm,” explained Bud. “It was -given to me by an old gypsy who hadn’t any -other way to show me she was my friend. It’s -a good luck piece. I don’t know as it helped me -any, but the old woman who gave it to me wanted -it to.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see,” began Mr. Elder.</p> - -<p>“This old woman and her son-in-law made -Lafe Pennington mad. It wasn’t their fault. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -was his. Yesterday, Judge Pennington had ’em -arrested for assaultin’ Lafe, which they hadn’t. -They yanked ’em off’n the fair-grounds and -locked ’em up. They’re goin’ to have a trial -to-day. They ain’t done nothin’, but they are my -friends, in a kind of a way. If you’ll persuade -Judge Pennington to let ’em go, I’ll work the -airship all week for nothin’.”</p> - -<p>President Elder laughed. Then he slapped -the boy on the back.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” he said laughing heartily, “you are -certainly a strange boy. That’s a go. I’ll -promise.”</p> - -<p>“Let ’em out right away,” continued Bud, “so -they can get in a full day tellin’ fortunes.”</p> - -<p>“Right away,” laughed the fair president.</p> - -<p>“Then I guess I’ll take the first hack out to -the grounds and get busy.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you won’t mind my paying your -expenses,” suggested the president, when they -reached the square.</p> - -<p>“Got to have hack fare and dinner money,” -said Bud, with a smile. And accepting a five -dollar bill, Bud was off to the fair-grounds and -airship shed again.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br /> -<small>THE FLIGHT IN THE DARK.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>At twelve o’clock that day, while Bud was -busy on the aeroplane, Mr. T. Glenn Dare and -Attorney Cyrus Stockwell suddenly appeared -before the airship shed. Mr. Dare walked in -briskly, took off his coat, and gave every sign of -taking charge of the apparatus. Bud shook his -head.</p> - -<p>“Strangers not allowed in here, sir.”</p> - -<p>The expert laughed.</p> - -<p>“Since I’ve a contract that calls for my being -here, I was about to say the same thing to you, -young man.”</p> - -<p>“I guess we understand ourselves,” replied -Bud, with composure. “President Elder has -been in here several times this morning. He left -orders for me to keep all strangers out.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’re goin’ to put me out,” smiled -Mr. Dare.</p> - -<p>“I would if I had time,” answered Bud. “But -I’m busy. Any way, that ain’t the program. -I’m just to tell you to get out.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Dare laughed outright.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Put me out,” he said banteringly.</p> - -<p>“Jim,” called out Bud, good naturedly, and -resuming his work on the engine, “accommodate -the gentleman. He wants to be put out.”</p> - -<p>Jim Hoarr, the night watchman, who was -curled up in a corner of the shed, slowly arose -and hitched up his trousers. Jim was not tall, -but his tight undershirt exposed such a mass of -rounded muscle and chest that Mr. Dare at once -stepped back.</p> - -<p>“Wot gent?” asked Jim sleepily, glancing -first at Mr. Dare and then at Attorney Stockwell.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” exclaimed Attorney Stockwell angrily, -“come here.”</p> - -<p>“I’m busy,” said Bud, polishing the engine -industriously.</p> - -<p>The lawyer stepped over to Bud and caught -him by the shoulder. The next moment, Attorney -Stockwell was sliding over the worn and -dusty grass outside the shed and Jim was hurrying -back for another victim. But his services -were not needed. Mr. T. Glenn Dare had caught -up his coat and escaped beneath the canvas on -the far side of the tent.</p> - -<p>With difficulty Bud refrained from laughing. -But he ran out after his foster father.</p> - -<p>“I want to apologize for that,” he began.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -“Jim didn’t understand.”</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell was boiling with rage.</p> - -<p>“I thought you told me you wouldn’t do this -again,” he almost shouted, “for less than fifty -dollars a day.”</p> - -<p>“Or nothing,” added Bud.</p> - -<p>The lawyer’s face grew white.</p> - -<p>“You ungrateful whelp,” he almost hissed. -“Don’t you set your foot in my house again.”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye,” said Bud indifferently, turning -away.</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell was too full of rage to talk. -As Mr. Dare joined him, they turned and hastened -away.</p> - -<p>“That’s all we wanted,” said the lawyer at -last when he found his tongue. “Now you’ve -got to come back when it’s time to make the -flight and offer to take charge. Have a witness -with you, and if they refuse to accept your -services, you have a plain case. I’ll arrange -with Judge Clark to issue a writ this afternoon. -As for this watchman, we’ll have him locked up -before night and discharged to boot.”</p> - -<p>“How about the kid?” asked the expert.</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell shook his head ominously.</p> - -<p>“I’ll attend to him all right. Never fear as -to that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<p>Which meant that he was already sorry that -he had ordered Bud away from his house.</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell represented a type of lawyers -found in all small towns. Without reputation -for pronounced legal ability, he undertook -all cases that came his way and what he had told -Bud was true; often enough he gave his services -for ten dollars a day when he could get no more. -Therefore, when T. Glenn Dare had called on -him that morning and offered him fifty dollars -to protect his interests in the aeroplane dispute, -the lawyer forgot local pride—even overlooked -the fact that he might be called on to take action -against his fellow fair directors.</p> - -<p>If he had any compunctions on this score, they -disappeared when he learned that President -Elder had induced his foster son to accept service -once more without recompense.</p> - -<p>“Your redress is very clear,” Attorney Stockwell -told Mr. Dare when the latter explained all -the facts in the case. “The contract of sale calls -for one thousand eight hundred dollars for the -aeroplane, but it also stipulates that you are to -be employed for six days at fifty dollars a day. -The cost of the machine, is, therefore, two thousand -one hundred dollars. So far, I understand, -nothing has been paid on the machine.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not a cent,” explained the representative of -the manufacturers. “The First National Bank -guaranteed the payment on the aeroplane proving -satisfactory. I’ve had no chance to demonstrate -this.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all that is necessary,” sagely commented -the lawyer. “If the directors do not give -you that chance this afternoon, we will go before -the county court, secure a writ of replevin, turn -it over to the sheriff, and to-night, a deputy -sheriff will levy on the machine. If the directors -do not then comply with their contract, you will -have a right to remove the aeroplane.”</p> - -<p>At two-thirty in the afternoon, Mr. Dare reappeared -at the fair-grounds, but he kept aloof -from the airship shed until he saw President -Elder appear. To the latter, he formally made -application to be permitted to make the flight.</p> - -<p>“You’re four days too late, young man. You -didn’t keep your contract, and we won’t keep -ours.”</p> - -<p>“Then you refuse?” asked Mr. Dare, turning -to the ’bus driver, Doug’ Jackson, who was with -the aviator and on a pass which he had at last -secured.</p> - -<p>“Is Doug’ your witness?” asked Mr. Elder, -smiling.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<p>Doug’ threw out his chest.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Stockwell told me to come along,” he -explained. “He give me a pass.”</p> - -<p>While this conversation was in progress, Jim -Hoarr, the muscular night watchman, had caught -sight of Mr. Dare. Still eager to be of service, -he had approached the group. Seeing him, -President Elder laughed.</p> - -<p>“Jim,” he said, “Doug’ has a pass that’ll take -him out o’ the grounds, but I think Mr. Dare -might like help.”</p> - -<p>Before even Jim could get busy, the alarmed -aviator had disappeared in the fast gathering -crowd.</p> - -<p>A little after three o’clock, Bud made his -second flight. The news of the previous day’s -exploit had spread not only through the town -but even into the near-by country, and the crowd -was immense. The flight was not as spectacular -as that of the day before, but it was longer and -not less successful. Four times the perfectly -working car circled the half-mile track. The -time, taken with great ceremony by the trotting -and running horse judges assembled in their -stand, was officially announced as four minutes. -This, considering the turns, was remarkably fast. -Bud offered at the end of the flight to make another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -short flight with a passenger but this was -vetoed.</p> - -<p>Hardly had Bud alighted when two eager -figures pushed their way forward. They were -Madame Zecatacas and her son-in-law.</p> - -<p>“Look here, Kid,” began the latter at once and -extending an awkward hand, “me an’ the ole -lady has come to tell you we’re much obliged to -you.”</p> - -<p>“For what?” asked Bud, pretending ignorance.</p> - -<p>“Never you mind about that,” continued the -man gruffly.</p> - -<p>“We’re on all right. They didn’t make no -bones about it. You squared it all right. How -’bout it, ole lady?”</p> - -<p>The Gypsy Queen reached out her brown -hands, took Bud’s hand in one of hers and -tapped the ring, which he still wore, with the -other.</p> - -<p>“The Gypsy Queen sees good fortune for the -young gentleman. Wear old Zecatacas’ ring—it -will bring good luck. She can give no more.”</p> - -<p>Bud was sure he saw tears in the old woman’s -eyes; but, pressing his hand in hers, she said no -more.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Kid,” went on the man, “that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -means a lot. I’d rather have it than money. -We ain’t got nothin’—we’re poor people, but -when Jack Stanley kin do ye a turn it’ll be done. -That’s all.”</p> - -<p>How well Jack Stanley and Madame Zecatacas -kept their word, Bud soon found out.</p> - -<p>The aeroplane trial at an end, every one -seemed to forget Bud. Homeless at last, he did -not care much. So long as his engagement with -the fair officials lasted, he determined to stay in -the aeroplane shed, which he now began to call -the “aerodrome.” His only regret was that he -had had no opportunity to say good-bye to Mrs. -Stockwell. But he would send her a letter. Meanwhile, -with Mr. Elder’s five dollars in his pocket -to provide for his meals, he whistled at hard luck -and counted himself content.</p> - -<p>Yet, as evening came on, the thought of Mrs. -Stockwell bothered him. So long as he belonged -in her home, a failure to return at night did not -bother him a great deal. Now that he was not -going back again, he had a longing to tell her -“good-bye.” Besides there were a few clothes, -his parents’ pictures, some airship drawings and -a couple of books that he felt he would like to -have before Attorney Stockwell might take a -notion to destroy them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - -<p>One of these books Bud was determined not to -lose. This was a new story—“In the Clouds for -Uncle Sam or Morey Marshall of the Signal -Corps.” Anything relating to aeroplanes interested -Bud, and this book was wholly about the -new flying machines, but, in Morey Marshall’s -adventures, he had just reached the most exciting -part.</p> - -<p>“Whatever happens,” said Bud to himself, -“I’ve got to find out what came of the blue -packet Morey found in his father’s old desk and -what happened to Morey and Amos when they -ran away from home.”</p> - -<p>But it was some days before Bud had a chance -to renew his reading of this tale.</p> - -<p>In the early evening, he knew that the lawyer -always spent a few hours “up town.”</p> - -<p>Allowing a reasonable time after the usual -supper hour, Bud stealthily approached the -Stockwell residence from the rear, and entered -the yard through the garden gate. There was a -light in the kitchen, but Mrs. Stockwell was not -there. Tiptoeing around the house, he heard -voices on the porch. One was that of a stranger. -But he easily made out that of the lawyer, too, -and he stepped back. Mrs. Stockwell was not in -sight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’ll at least get my things,” he said to himself.</p> - -<p>Making his way to the grape arbor, he shinned -up to the summer kitchen roof, and, in bare feet, -entered his room. Without venturing to strike a -light, he felt around, got the articles he had come -for, and then, stooping in a corner, by the light of -a few matches, he wrote a note on the fly leaf of -one of his few books.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>“<i>Dear Mother Stockwell,” it ran, “your husban’ -has drove me away, and I got to go, but I’ll -be back to see you some time you have been good -to me and I’ll be good to you when I can so no -more at presence from</i></p> - -<p class="right">“<i>Bud.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>Opening the book on the table, he softly escaped -over the roof. He was about to drop onto -the grape arbor, when voices sounded immediately -beneath him.</p> - -<p>“Now, don’t wait for me, Mother,” said one -of them—easily distinguished as that of the -lawyer himself. “I’ll be out late on business.”</p> - -<p>“’Tain’t about Bud, is it?” asked the other—Mrs. -Stockwell.</p> - -<p>“No,” sharply replied her husband. “But he -caused it. It’s legal business. You can’t understand -it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I wonder why the child don’t come home?” -said Mrs. Stockwell.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’ll be home all right. I’m going to -send for him. I knew you would worry about -him again, so I told ’em to tell him you wanted -to see him.”</p> - -<p>“Cyrus,” added his wife, “I don’t think you’re -treatin’ Bud right. He’s a good boy if he -has half a chance.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” retorted the lawyer, “you can treat -him well to-night by keepin’ him in after he gets -here. I’m goin’ out to the fair-ground to-night -with a deputy sheriff and levy on the aeroplane -that’s turned his head. We got a writ of replevin -this afternoon and a deputy sheriff is -goin’ to take the machine for Mr. Dare, who’s -out on the front porch. If Bud gets in the way -or interferes, he’ll be locked up for his pains.”</p> - -<p>“Lands sakes, Cyrus, Bud ain’t done no -crime, has he?”</p> - -<p>“No, but he’s made a fool of himself. And -he’s tryin’ to make one o’ me. I’m goin’ up -town now for a while, and I reckon I’ll be home -’bout midnight. You keep Bud here when he -comes.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll lock him in his room,” exclaimed Mrs. -Stockwell nervously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> - -<p>As the two passed into the kitchen, Bud -slipped down onto the arbor, recovered his shoes, -glanced into the empty kitchen, reached into the -window and captured a generous slice of jelly -cake from a near-by table, and was off down the -garden path.</p> - -<p>By half past eight, he was again on the fair-grounds. -He had had a half hour’s walk in -which to think over the thing he had heard. Out -of all the projects that flashed into his busy -brain, one only remained. It was a daring idea, -but the more he thought it over, the more determined -he was to execute it. Before going to the -“aerodrome,” he went to the tent of the Gypsy -Queen. When he left it, Jack Stanley was with -him.</p> - -<p>Bud and Madame Zecatacas’ son-in-law made -a quick tour among some of Stanley’s friends, -all of whom, after a brief talk, seemed highly -amused. And when Bud at last made his way -across the dark enclosure within the race-track, -Jack and four of his husky friends were gathered -in a knot in the shadow of the judges’ stand.</p> - -<p>Approaching the aeroplane shed, Bud broke -into a run and arrived, apparently, out of breath.</p> - -<p>“Jim,” he panted, “there’s trouble. Go right -over to the ticket office and get Mr. Elder on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -telephone. When you get him read him this message. -Got to get busy.”</p> - -<p>Finding a piece of paper, Bud laboriously -wrote a few lines. Then, taking the vigilant -watchman out into the dark where he could not -see the message until he reached the office nearly -a half mile away, Bud folded the scrap of paper, -shoved it into the waiting watchman’s hand and -pushed him forward.</p> - -<p>“You’ll watch things while I’m gone?” -called the hurrying messenger over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“You bet I will, Jim. I’ll not leave her. You -can trust me.”</p> - -<p>As the flying watchman passed the judges’ -stand, Jack Stanley and his pals slipped around -the little structure to keep out of his sight, and -then the highly amused group rushed toward the -airship shed.</p> - -<p>The perspiring Jim had some trouble in getting -President Elder on the wire, but when he -did so, he read the fair official this note:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="noi">“<i>Mr. Eldur</i></p> - -<p>“<i>They have got up a skeme to take the air -plane, and I can beet em by takin it away where -they aint no one knows where it is. Dont worry -about us, for I ll be on hand promp tomorrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -at reglar time for the show. Dont have no fear -of nuthin for I m all O. K.</i></p> - -<p class="right">“<i>Bud Wilson.</i>”</p> -</div> - -<p>When, in response to President Elder’s forceful -injunction, Jim, the watchman, reached the -airship shed again, the canvas front was up, the -shed was empty, and only a smell of gasoline -told of the stolen aeroplane.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> -<small>DUMPED INTO THE MARSH.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Plunging through the dark in an aeroplane, -two hundred feet or more above the earth and in -a moonless night, was Bud’s predicament. Up -to that time, at least, neither the Wright Brothers, -Mr. Farman, Mr. Latham, nor Mr. Curtiss -had had such an experience. When the chill -night breeze struck the boy’s face and he found -himself sailing into what was like a black cave, -for a moment he was panic stricken.</p> - -<p>Of course, he had not taken such a hazardous -chance without a plan. In a vague way, he had -outlined what he hoped to do. But it was easier -to lay that plan out in his mind while on the firm -ground than it was to put it into execution high -up in the impenetrable and chill air.</p> - -<p>The thing that almost rattled Bud was the fact -that he could not see the ground. He could not -even make out the lines of the fences beneath -him. It was like smoking a cigar in the dark -when you can only tell that it is going by the -fire on the end. The lack of vibration in an aeroplane -is most pronounced in the dark. Like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -soaring bird, the ship glides forward with hardly -a whirr or rattle to mark its flight. But the -breeze on Bud’s face and the spinning propellers -told him he was advancing, and with the speed -of a train.</p> - -<p>“I got to strike the Little Town pike first -thing,” said Bud to himself at last, as he began -to get his wits together. “If I can’t do that, -I’m up a stump. That’s my only guide to where -I got to go.”</p> - -<p>The scattered lights of the edge of Scottsville -were just rushing beneath the aeroplane.</p> - -<p>“I’ll follow the edge of town to the north,” -went on Bud, talking almost aloud to himself. -“When I come to the river and the bridge, I’ll -head north and get down low enough to see the -road. That’ll be my guide.”</p> - -<p>Five miles to the north of Scottsville, lay -Little Town—three saloons, a postoffice, a store -and an elevator. Northwest from Little Town, -a road reached into the “hills.” In any other -part of the country these hills would have been -hardly noticeable. But in Scott County, Indiana, -they were comparatively mountains. Bud knew -them as the scenes of many picnics and excursions.</p> - -<p>At Camp’s Mill, about three miles from Little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -Town on the “hill road,” where a creek, a mill -race and a head-gate afforded small water-power -for a flour and saw mill, a dirt road turned -sharply off to the north. Within a mile and in -a thickly wooded region, the “hills” suddenly -opened to enclose a pond. Little Town people -called it Camp’s Lake. Visitors from larger -places usually described it as a “frog pond.”</p> - -<p>In the spring and summer, the shores of this -little body of water—scarce a quarter of a mile -long—were swamps full of cattails and spearmint. -As Bud figured it, the damp, flat vegetation -would now be dead and dry. To this secluded -and seldom visited point, the youngster -had decided to attempt to carry the stolen aeroplane. -This was not wholly because the place -was far from Scottsville. Bud had figured on all -the problems he would have to face. That of -making an ascent the next day bothered him a -good deal more than the concealment of the airship. -Here, he thought, he might be able to put -into execution the only device he could figure -out for starting the car on its flight again.</p> - -<p>A sudden rumble beneath the car struck on -Bud’s ears.</p> - -<p>“That’s the bridge,” he said to himself. “It’s -a team crossing the bridge.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> - -<p>He could not mistake that sound; nor would -any other Scottsville boy. Bridges may look a -good deal alike, but no two of them sound alike. -The hollow noise of a wagon on a bridge always -strikes the same note. That note Bud had -known for ten years. And, though the structure -was out of sight, the boy brought the aeroplane -as sharply about as if it had been day. It was -now a straightaway course of five miles to Little -Town due north.</p> - -<p>When the town lights were a half mile or so -behind him, the determined lad inclined his horizontal -rudders until the ship sank close enough -to the ground to reveal forms. A little lower, -the dusty, white turnpike unwound beneath him, -and then he steadied the craft. Not until then -did he begin to feel somewhat composed.</p> - -<p>So far, the only thing that had bothered him -was the fear that he might not be able to get -away with the aeroplane successfully. Now he -had time to think of something just as important.</p> - -<p>“I wonder what they’ll think?” Bud finally -asked himself. Then he recalled how President -Elder had reprimanded him for taking chances -with the car.</p> - -<p>“Whew,” whistled the lad, as the thought -came back to him, “like as not, he’ll be sore all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -over now. And what if I do land her all right -and get her going again to-morrow? I can’t -come down at the fair-ground or the sheriff’ll -nab me. I might as well have stayed. If I go -back and give the show and sail away again -without landin’—and that’s the only thing to -do—where’ll I go? They can watch me and -follow me. I can get more gasoline somewhere, -but I can’t hide out another night with the sheriff -and Mr. Stockwell and Mr. Dare on my -track.”</p> - -<p>With this new trouble bothering him, he held -his course toward Little Town. Once, like a -great, black, groaning bird, he shot over a buggy. -The horse shied, and there were several alarmed -imprecations from the occupants.</p> - -<p>“Lucky they didn’t shoot,” thought Bud. -“But I can’t fly higher and know where I am.”</p> - -<p>Bud’s selection of Camp’s Lake as a desirable -spot for his purpose showed how familiar he was -with the country in all directions about Scottsville. -His familiarity with this particular place -was due to the fact that his father’s farm had -been just south of Little Town. Camp’s Mill and -its old-fashioned water wheel had always been -Bud’s joy. And Josh Camp was still one of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -boy chums. Or he would have been had Bud remained -near Little Town.</p> - -<p>He and Josh had, in earlier years, a firm belief -that fish existed in Camp’s Lake. They had -never been able to absolutely prove this, but -many a night’s work with a lantern had proven -that, if the pond were devoid of fish, it was infested -with bull frogs of giant girth. The final -argument in bringing the flying boy to his old -stamping grounds was this.</p> - -<p>Camp’s Lake, whether lake or pond, was never -devoid of water. Even beyond its margins, the -swampy cattail beds oozed moisture. At the -head of the body of water was a spring which -flowed ceaselessly. At the foot of the lake, at one -time, the surplus water drained away through -the lower marsh ground to the creek feeding the -mill-pond, a mile away at Camp’s Mill.</p> - -<p>As the country cleared up and the supply of -water in the creek became less certain, Josh’s -father—who owned the land about Camp Lake—determined -to utilize the supply going to waste -there. Accounts of water storage in western irrigation -districts had inspired this. The last -time Bud saw the place, he found that Mr. Camp -had dammed up the spillway at the end of the -lake. In the center of the dam, he had built a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -head-gate; and, from this, leading over the -marsh, he had constructed a flume about four -feet wide leading to the creek below.</p> - -<p>“The place behind the hills is a good place to -hide,” thought Bud, reviewing the situation, -“the flat shores of the pond are the best place -to land without breaking anything, and the old -flume is the best starting apparatus I can think -of.”</p> - -<p>He knew there was an old flat-bottom boat and -a skiff on Camp’s Lake. On these, with Josh’s -help, if he could get it, and any other assistance -that he could procure, he meant to carry the aeroplane -to the dam. It was a part of his plan to -place the flat boat in the flume. Balancing the -aeroplane on this, he was counting on Mr. Camp’s -permission to throw open the head-gate, suddenly -flood the flume with the pent up water, -and, as the boat rushed forward, to gain an impetus -that would start him on a new flight.</p> - -<p>Bud’s first sight of Little Town was the green -railroad switch light at the settlement limits. -He headed toward it, and, cutting out the village, -passed diagonally over the adjacent fields in -search of the road leading to the mill. At first, -he missed it. The strain had made him nervous. -Although he had not been in the air over fifteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -minutes, he felt as if he had been up an hour. He -had thoughtlessly started in his shirt sleeves, -and was chilled.</p> - -<p>Everything seemed so desolate and quiet that -there was an almost compelling temptation to -make a descent and trust to luck. But the boy -dismissed the idea, gritted his teeth, and, clutching -the levers with his benumbed fingers, made -another attempt to find the dark, winding country -road.</p> - -<p>“What am I goin’ to do when I got to strike -off over the woods from the mill?” thought Bud. -“This ought to be pie compared to that.”</p> - -<p>Dropping lower and lower, the nervous young -aviator finally brushed something light that rattled. -He was over a field of corn in the shock. -As he gasped and threw the car upward, again -he heard the unmistakable “thud,” “thud” of -a horse’s hoofs. Judging that they were on the -unseen road, he continued his upward flight until -he was out of possible sight, and then altered his -course to bring him over the newly located road.</p> - -<p>In a few moments, the sound of the horse and -vehicle were far behind. Then he dropped down -again until two dark lines marked the shrubbery -lined lane.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Now for the old mill,” murmured Bud, -greatly relieved.</p> - -<p>It does not take long to cover three miles in an -aeroplane. Almost before he could believe it, -the sharp turn in the road, the wide clearing, the -dark pile that he knew was the mill, and then -the almost phosphorescent sheen of the dark mill-pond -marked the end of the second stage of Bud’s -wild flight.</p> - -<p>“If there’s anything in the old gypsy’s ring, -I can use it now,” muttered Bud. “It’s all -blind from this on, but I reckon I know the way. -Here goes, any way.”</p> - -<p>With a bound upward, Bud headed the aeroplane -over the trees beyond the mill-pond. Three -hundred feet over the forest, he steadied the airship. -But only for a moment. All was dark beneath, -and yet Bud knew that the open marsh -and lake were just ahead. From that point, he -might as well have closed his eyes. It was all -luck and instinct now.</p> - -<p>Catching his breath, the boy lowered his horizontal -rudders. With his eyes glued on the -seemingly endless black beneath him, he leaned -further and further forward. Twice he started -upright, twice he hesitated, and then, with feverish -speed, his hand shot out and shut off the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -engine. The propellers died away, but the car -plunged ahead with its speed apparently unchecked.</p> - -<p>Lower and lower sank the drifting aeroplane. -Again Bud leaned nervously forward to catch -some sign of the margin of the water. What -had happened? He had surely gone a mile! In -the still night air came a sudden splash. With -it, rose the guttural honk of a bull frog. The -sound was dead ahead and almost beneath him.</p> - -<p>With renewed energy, he swung his vertical -rudder lever and the car drifted quickly to the -right. Under the impulse of the turn, it darted -downward. There was a rasping brush against -the tall, dry swamp vegetation and the aeroplane, -touching first with its starboard end on the soft -marsh bed, settled with a dragging jolt on the -weeds and grasses.</p> - -<p>There was a breaking creak, as the end of the -framework struck, but when Bud knew the flight -was at an end he sank back into his seat with a -gulp of relief.</p> - -<p>“I’m here,” he sighed, “right among the -snakes and frogs. Maybe the machine’s busted, -and maybe not. Anyway, I’ve got a fine long -job of waitin’ for day.”</p> - -<p>He was breathing as if he had just finished a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -race. When he had got around to normal again, -he made an attempt to get his bearings. With -his hands on the framework, he crawled from -the car. His feet sank into the soft ground and -water oozed into his deep foot prints. Then he -listened. He fancied he heard the soft lap of -water just ahead. That meant the lake. But it -was useless to try to reach it. The margin led -nowhere and it would be softer than where he -was.</p> - -<p>A good deal of the romance of his adventure -disappeared at once. It was exciting enough to -navigate an aeroplane through the pathless -black sky; but it was far from interesting or comfortable -to sit up all night with the chill air benumbing -his coatless body and keep sleepless -company with bugs, frogs and snakes in a damp -marsh.</p> - -<p>“And I ain’t goin’ to,” exclaimed Bud. “The -marsh gets softer toward the lake, but it gets -firmer toward the hill.”</p> - -<p>He debated and hesitated for an hour, growing -colder and more miserable all the time, and then, -in desperation, he got stiffly out of the chair on -which he had been cramped and plunged through -the bog toward the high ground.</p> - -<p>The mucky swamp was bad enough and, more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -than once, Bud thought himself hopelessly -mired. But in the end, exhausted, his face and -hands scratched with the weeds he had fallen -against and his trousers and shoes a coat of -clayey black mud, he fell over a boulder and -tumbled out onto dry land.</p> - -<p>What turned out to be as great a strain was -the effort to make his way through the woods to -Camp’s Mill. Bud was no coward, but there is -something about a journey at midnight through -an owly, twig-snapping wood that is apt to give -any one the creeps. When the double darkness -of the thick trees finally gave way to a more open -gloom, and Bud knew the Camp home was somewhere -just ahead, he broke into a dead run, a -cold perspiration thick all over his body.</p> - -<p>And, as he at last found the gate of Josh’s -home and a deep-barking dog lunged at him, he -was about ready to pronounce Madame Zecatacas’ -ring a failure. But his troubles for the night -were over. Josh’s father, responding to the -watchdog’s bark, demanded to know what was -wanted. In a few moments, Bud was taken in. -It was hard to explain the situation, but Bud’s condition -was almost explanation enough. In an -hour, refreshed with milk, bread and butter and -cold ham, the airship thief was put to sleep in -the spare room.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> -<small>THE ROMNEY RING BRINGS NEWS.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Hello, Josh. What time is it?” called Bud, -sticking his head out of the window of the spare -room. The sun was high in the sky, and Bud, -just awake, had caught sight of his friend crossing -the dooryard with a milk pail in his hand.</p> - -<p>“Time the milkin’ was over,” answered Josh. -“But I ain’t had hardly no time yet. I been over -to see her, Bud. She’s a jim dandy.”</p> - -<p>Bud, in Josh’s rough but freshly ironed night -shirt, leaned further out of the window. His -eyes were yet blinking, but the mention of “her” -brought him to his full senses at once. He had -slept late, worn with the exertion and strain of -the night before, and Mr. Camp had not awakened -him. The near-by mill was already groaning -with its daily grist, and breakfast was undoubtedly -over.</p> - -<p>“She ain’t broke anywhere is she?” asked -Bud eagerly.</p> - -<p>“How’d I know? I been down there to the -lake, but you don’t reckon I been over where she -is? But she looks fine as silk.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You’ve got to help me to-day, Josh,” went -on Bud, beginning to skin off his chum’s long -night gown.</p> - -<p>Josh had come up to the window and was peering -into the sacred precincts of the spare room.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I calklated,” he said, setting -down his steaming milk pail. “An’ that’s why -I didn’t dig over in the mud when I was down -to see her. We got trompin’ enough ’thout lookin’ -for more.”</p> - -<p>The bedroom was cool and grateful; the high -feather bed, with its blue and white tasseled -counterpane looked more than tempting, but -Bud had only two thoughts now—he smelled frying -ham, and he was anxious to see whether his -airship was injured.</p> - -<p>“Where’s my clothes?” he exclaimed, looking -for them in vain.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I forgot,” explained Josh. “They’re -dryin’. You can’t wear them pants afore -noon. I dunno as yo’ kin wear ’em then.”</p> - -<p>“But my shoes?”</p> - -<p>“Them’s as bad. We got oats in ’em dryin’ -’em out. Mother washed your pants first thing -this mornin’.”</p> - -<p>Bud laughed.</p> - -<p>“That’s mighty good o’ you folks. But I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -can’t stay here. I got a lot to do. I mean <em>we</em> -have.”</p> - -<p>“We figured that all out,” laughed Josh. -“Your things’ll be dry by noon. This mornin’ -yo’ kin have my plow shoes an’ ole mill pants.”</p> - -<p>When Bud emerged from the dustless and -spotless bedroom to go to the basin bench out -near the well, he was attired as if for a masquerade. -Josh’s pants were so long that they had -to be rolled up, and his old shoes were much too -large. After a good wash up and an elaborate -combing of his hair, he responded to Mrs. -Camp’s smiling call to breakfast.</p> - -<p>“It certainly is good fur sore eyes,” commented -Josh’s mother as Bud sat down to breakfast—all -alone—“to see Bud Wilson agin. I -ain’t seen hide n’r hair o’ you in ten year, I -reckon. An’ how air ye?”</p> - -<p>Bud, between mouthfuls of fried ham, biscuits -and pancakes, told of his life since he went to -live with Attorney Stockwell. It took some time.</p> - -<p>“An’ who’s on your pa’s farm?” asked Mrs. -Camp.</p> - -<p>Bud shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I guess it’s been sold,” he ventured.</p> - -<p>“Must a brought a good price,” suggested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -Mrs. Camp. “It was a good piece o groun’, as -I recollec’.”</p> - -<p>Bud shook his head again.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said, his mouth full of -cakes and maple syrup, “like as not. Only I didn’t -see none o’ the money ef it was.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Camp eyed him closely. Then she shook -her head in turn.</p> - -<p>“I reckon ye ain’t old enough yet to be told. -But somepins comin’ to you, Bud. Don’t ye fergit -that. It was a good piece o’ land and it’d -bring a good price.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’ll work out all right,” laughed Bud, -with boyish indifference—but drinking in every -one of Mrs. Camp’s words just the same. “This -charm is goin’ to bring me good luck.”</p> - -<p>Then he explained the part that Madame Zecatacas, -the Gypsy Queen, had played in his -recent experiences, and exhibited his ring. At -that moment, Josh’s father, Mr. Camp—“Stump” -Camp—as he was generally known, -entered the kitchen from the mill. He was a -small man, with large and bushy tobacco-stained -whiskers and considerable curiosity. Bud repeated -the story of the ring.</p> - -<p>“Jack <em>Stanley</em>,” exclaimed Mr. Camp with a -hearty guffaw. “Why, I’m sprized, Bud, ye<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -don’t know him. He ain’t no gypsy, an’ he ain’t -no Stanley, ’though all them horse traders give -out they’re gypsies, an’ most o’ ’em say they’re -Stanleys. You know him, Mother,” he said, -turning to his wife. “He’s ole Bill Reed’s boy -’at run off with Red Stanley’s gang. I knowed -’em all. Red Stanley’s wife set up fur a great -fortune teller, an’ she had a sign sayin’ she was -Madame Somepin or Ruther.”</p> - -<p>“Madame Zecatacas?” interrupted Bud.</p> - -<p>“That’s it,” said Mr. Camp. “I seen her -three years ago to the fair. I knowed ’em all. -They traded through this country a good many -years. They used to camp over nigh Little -Town. That’s where John Reed, old Bill Reed’s -boy, fell in with Stanley’s girl, an’ followed the -gang away.”</p> - -<p>“Shore,” commented Mrs. Camp, “I recollec’. -And want it ole man Reed ’at sold that sixty -acres to Bud’s pa?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp knit his brows a moment, expectorated -slowly into the wood box, and then nodded -his head.</p> - -<p>“How ’bout that, Bud?” he exclaimed suddenly. -“How did that trouble ’bout your pa’s -farm ever come out?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I didn’t know there was any trouble about -it,” answered Bud. “What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp looked surprised. Then he slapped -his knee.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” he almost chuckled, “you hang onto -that ring and hang on to John Reed, or ‘Jack -Stanley’ as he calls hisself. Ef I ain’t mistook, -he kin do ye some good.”</p> - -<p>Bud was alert.</p> - -<p>“I feel it in my bones he is goin’ to help me -somehow. What is it?”</p> - -<p>“I kin see that lawyer as took ye in never told -you. But everybody up this way knows the -facks. I ain’t desirin’ to make no trouble fur -nobody, and may be ’tain’t my say, but facks is -facks.”</p> - -<p>“You mean ’bout the deed?” interrupted the -rotund Mrs. Camp, who was one of those country -women who know what is going on around them.</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp nodded his head. Then he scratched -his chin through his luxuriant whiskers and remarked, -in a slow, judicial tone:</p> - -<p>“Bud, when your pa bought that sixty acres -o’ ole man Reed, he give eighty dollars a acre -fur it. Bein’ a easy-goin’ man not used to that -sort o’ business, he took the deed and stuck it -away when he ought a’ took it to the courthouse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -an’ recorded it. One day when your ma’s cousin, -Lawyer Stockwell, was visitin’ him and he was -complainin’, they took out the papers an’, lo an’ -behold, they discivered that Mrs. Reed, ole Bill’s -wife, hadn’t jined in the transfer.”</p> - -<p>“The lawyer took the paper, as your pa told -me more’n onct, fur I knowed him well, an’ set -out to get Mrs. Reed’s name to the dockyment. -That’d been easy enough like as not on’y it was -jest about the time Mrs. Reed and Bill fell out -and sepyrated. She’d gone to Indinoplis and -afore the lawyer could ketch her, she was off to -Calyfornee. Mr. Stockwell went clean out there -to find her onct, but he never did.”</p> - -<p>Bud remembered the time. It was just after -his father’s death. But his foster father had -never told him that the trip concerned him or his -father’s farm.</p> - -<p>“What difference did that make?” asked Bud.</p> - -<p>“Made jest this. Ole Bill Reed died, and there -wa’nt really no good deed to your pa. He was -dead, too, then. The place was yours because -your pa paid for it with hard cash, but the title -was bad. Ain’t no one ever goin’ to buy the -place from you—an’ its worth a hundred dollars -a acre now o’ any man’s money, lessen you go -get your title cleared up.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> - -<p>Bud smiled.</p> - -<p>“That all sounds right,” he said, “and I -reckon I ought to understand it. But I don’t.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp laughed, too, and looked at his wife.</p> - -<p>“Lawyer Stockwell understands it all right, -mother,” he said chuckling. “It’s this way, -Son. There’s only two persons who kin give -you a clean title to that land which you heired -from your pa. An’ that’s them as is Ole Bill -Reed’s heirs. An’ ef you want to know who -them air, it’s Jack Stanley an’ his wife.”</p> - -<p>Bud sat up trying to understand.</p> - -<p>“Ef any one has claims on that farm besides -you,” Mr. Camp continued, “it’s John Reed and -his wife. An’ they ain’t got no genoine claim -except to do the fair and square thing and that’s -what ole Bill and his wife didn’t. Ef they’re -your friends, they’ll do it. An’ when they do -an’ give you a deed to what your pa hones’ly -paid fur, Bud Wilson’ll have as clean an’ tidy -a bit o’ ground as they is in Scott County.”</p> - -<p>The boy’s brow was wrinkled.</p> - -<p>“You say my foster father understands? -What do you mean? How is he interested in all -this?”</p> - -<p>“Far be it from me to make reflections,” said -Mr. Camp slowly, “but lawyers has more tricks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -an’ one. I ain’t sayin’ he’d do it. But what ef -he or some one else’d buy that sixty acres o’ -Jack Stanley. Where’d you come in?”</p> - -<p>“I see,” answered Bud, “but I can’t think -you’re right. Any way,” he added, “I’ll keep -my eyes open. As for this,” and he whirled the -dull, brassy circle on his finger, “I guess it’s -workin’ all right. It ain’t brought me anything -bad yet—exceptin’ my muddy pants and the -swamp.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp’s return to the house had been -prompted by curiosity. When Bud had asked -a few more questions about his father and the -farm, Mr. Camp suggested that it would be well -to hurry to the stranded aeroplane.</p> - -<p>“Will you help me?” asked Bud eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Will we?” answered Josh, speaking for his -father and himself. “When a real show comes -right out here in our front yard without no -charge to see it—I guess we’ll see it ef we have -to shet down the mill.”</p> - -<p>“It’s most as good as goin’ to the fair,” -chuckled his father.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Camp gave a sigh of disappointment.</p> - -<p>“You ain’t a goin’ to miss it, Mrs. Camp,” -spoke up Bud promptly. “I’m goin’ to start -back to town about twenty minutes of three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -o’clock. You be waitin’ out in the yard. I’ll -sail right over the house. Don’t be scared if I -come close to you. I’ll do it so you can see the -airship.”</p> - -<p>“I jes can’t nacherly believe it,” exclaimed -the good-natured woman.</p> - -<p>“And if you’ll let me, I’ll come back and stay -with you again to-night,” added Bud. “That is, -if you’ll let me pay for my board an’ lodgin’.”</p> - -<p>“Pay?” exclaimed Mrs. Camp indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Come on and quit your foolish talk,” added -her husband.</p> - -<p>A curious and laughable sight in his borrowed -clothes, Bud, Josh and Mr. Camp set out for the -lake.</p> - -<p>“She’s right down among the cattails,” explained -Josh. “An’ mighty nigh in the pond. -You had a close call a gittin’ ducked.”</p> - -<p>This was true, as Bud soon discovered. The -day was fine, with only a light September haze in -the air. Standing on the slope of the hill—which -completely concealed the machine from a -possible traveler on the wood road—Bud and -the two Camps began speculating on the best -way to approach the aeroplane. No one was -anxious to plow through the deep mire of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -swamp unless it was necessary. The solution -was easy.</p> - -<p>The skiff and flat boat were moored at the bottom -of the pond near the closed head-gate. To -reach these, there was a board path or footway -running along the flume from the creek. A half -mile detour brought the party there. In a few -moments more, they were all at the dam and the -boats. Bud had explained his plans for moving -the aeroplane by loading it onto the boats and -floating it to the head of the flume. Mr. Camp -reckoned the project feasible.</p> - -<p>But, when the two boats had been brought as -near the stranded machine as they would float, -and Bud, stripped of his trousers, underclothes, -shoes and socks, had crawled through the weeds -and mud to the airship, his fears were realized. -Although the starboard end of the car was partly -buried in the mud, the keen-eyed lad at once discovered -that the bottom cross piece of the frame -was broken.</p> - -<p>Making further examination of the craft, his -eye fell upon the gasoline tank. A sudden alarm -came over him. He knew he had enough fuel to -carry him safely back to the fair-grounds; but -that would not suit all his needs. He meant to -return to the fair, give the advertised exhibition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -by flying three times around the race-track, and -then escape once more. If he could do this, he -would keep the aeroplane hidden until the next -day, which was Saturday. When he returned -that day, he would come down. The fair would -be over.</p> - -<p>But to do this meant more gasoline. He returned -to his waiting friends and reported. -There was a hasty consultation, and this program -was agreed upon: Josh was to hook up a horse -to the spring wagon and proceed at once to Little -Town for five gallons of gasoline; Bud was to -return to the mill and secure a few pieces of wood -and some wire to repair the broken cross piece; -Mr. Camp was to stay by the aeroplane and clear -away the interfering weeds as well as he could.</p> - -<p>“And,” volunteered Mr. Camp, as the boys -left, “sense we’re all a goin’ to be workin’ purty -hard this mornin’ tell Mother to get us up a -pot-pie dinner with mashed potatoes. Ef any -one asts fur me at the mill, tell ’em we’re shet -down.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> -<small>A UNIQUE STARTING DEVICE.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Anyway,” exclaimed Bud, after he had returned -with his supplies and made another examination -of the aeroplane, “the engine is in -good shape. The landing skids kept it above the -weeds and it’s as dry as a bone.”</p> - -<p>Half naked, the boy went to work on the airship, -and, with no little annoyance from mosquitoes -and sunburn, he soon had the broken cross-piece -mended.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the two mill hands had managed -to secure a couple of substantial fence planks, -each about ten feet long. While Bud tested each -brace in the car—fortunately the front and rear -rudders and the two propellers escaped without -a scratch—Mr. Camp and his hands beat down -the tangle of cattails and flags. By using the -fence boards to walk on, a temporary tramway -was made and when the busy young aviator -was ready to move his car, the planks were laid -ready for the first ten-foot lift.</p> - -<p>“Now then,” called out Mr. Camp, as the three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -men and Bud took their places, “right up to -yer shoulder and then all together.”</p> - -<p>With Mr. Camp and Bud in front and the -others just behind them—all standing on the narrow -boards—they slowly raised the frame into -the air. At the end of the improvised walk, the -car was gently eased to the beaten-down weeds -and the boards were shoved forward. Again, the -aeroplane was lifted and carried another ten feet. -The next lift would bring the frame to the -water’s edge.</p> - -<p>Before this was made, Bud lined up the two -boats about fifteen feet apart and anchored them -between oars and sticks stuck in the mud. Then, -every one removing his shoes and trousers, the -airship squad got its shoulders under the machine -once more, and, splashing and slipping in -the shallow water and mud, carefully laid the -aeroplane on the boats.</p> - -<p>“This is all new business to me,” said Mr. -Camp, slapping at the mosquitoes, thick on his -unprotected legs, “but I’m ketchin’ on. An’ -I got an idee a’ready,” he added knowingly. “I -see what you’re figgerin’ on, Bud. Ef ye git -back here to-night, don’t land on the marsh. -Ef ye’ll jest make a landin’ over yender on the -slope o’ the hill ye can git out o’ all this trouble.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But I’d have as much trouble gettin’ the car -over to the flume to raise it again,” suggested -Bud.</p> - -<p>“That’s where you’re mistaken, an’ that’s -where my idee comes in. I reckon ye <em>kin</em> start -in the flume, but that’s fur frum bein’ the easiest -way.”</p> - -<p>“What would you do?” asked Bud, with -rather a patronizing smile.</p> - -<p>“Well, as I figger it out,” said Mr. Camp, -parting his flowing beard to expectorate, “all ye -want is a run fur yer money. There’s more -ways o’ gettin’ a runnin’ start than on a boat. -When you git back to-night, I’ll have an old -spring wagon I got up thar nigh the top o’ the -hill. An’ I’ll have her greased good an’ plenty. -Tomorrer we’ll put the flying-machine on the -wagon an’ Josh in the shafts. When he gits goin’ -down hill ef he don’t beat this ole flat-boat I’m -a liar.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Camp,” laughed Bud, approvingly, “if -it wasn’t for gettin’ the aeroplane over the -marsh and on the hill, I’d try it to-day. That’s -a bird of a way.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m purty handy that away,” remarked -the mill owner in a satisfied tone.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mr. Camp and one of the men climbed into the -boats to balance the long frame, while the other -man and Bud, keeping within wading distance -of the shore, began the task of pushing the boats -the quarter of a mile or more to the dam. Before -they reached the lower end of the pond, -Josh could be seen making his way laboriously -up the plank walk along the flume, pushing a -wheelbarrow loaded with the wood-encased can -of gasoline.</p> - -<p>It was nearly noon, and, by the time the aeroplane -had been lifted from its floating foundation -and deposited safely upon the clay dam or -levee, the distant but welcome sound of Mr. -Camp’s dinner bell could be heard.</p> - -<p>“There don’t seem to be any risk in leaving -it here,” suggested Bud. “There isn’t a living -thing in sight except birds. And, anyway, I’ve -got to get my clothes, to say nothing of that -chicken potpie.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know about that,” said Josh doubtfully. -“Mebbe I better stay. They been a telephonin’ -ever’ where ’bout a lost flyin’ machine. -Somebody called up the store in Little Town this -mornin’ while I was there, astin’ ef any one had -heerd o’ a lost flyin’ machine.”</p> - -<p>Bud showed some alarm.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Don’t be skeered, son,” exclaimed Mr. -Camp. “Thet ain’t because they think it’s up -this way. They probable been telephonin’ all -over the county.”</p> - -<p>It was finally agreed that Josh should remain -on guard, and that his dinner should be brought -to him. After getting into their clothes, the -others started for the house. On the way, Bud -was in a deep study. He had no concern about -his return to the fair-ground and no fear but -what he would give a successful exhibition, but -what was to follow? Certainly Attorney Stockwell -and Mr. Dare and the deputy sheriff would -be on the watch for him.</p> - -<p>And, if they were looking out for the stolen -aeroplane, they would not only see it approaching, -but they would see the direction it took on -leaving. On a fast horse, a man might almost -keep close enough on the track of the retreating -car to see it come down. After that, it might -be only a question of a few hours search. You -can’t well hide a forty-foot wide expanse of -white canvas.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Camp,” said Bud, at last, as they hurried -along over the wood road, “you figured out -that starting apparatus so well, maybe you can -help me out of some other trouble.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> - -<p>He related his predicament as he saw it. The -old man wagged his jaws and stroked his long -whiskers.</p> - -<p>“Gimme a little time,” he replied at last. -“That’s a purty tough problem, but mebbe I kin -git some answer to it.”</p> - -<p>At the house, it was like a holiday.</p> - -<p>“Seems jes like Sunday with the mill shet -down,” remarked Mrs. Camp, opening a can of -pickled pears. “You all git ready right away. -Dinner’s all dryin’ up.”</p> - -<p>Bud changed his clothes—Mrs. Camp had even -pressed his pants—and the four men soused and -scrubbed themselves, and all took turns with -the hanging comb. Then they filed in to dinner. -It wasn’t a question of light or dark meat of the -chicken with Mr. Camp when he served the pot-pie. -The half spoon and half dipper plunged into -the smoking soup tureen came up charged with -gravy, dumplings and meat. Into the center of -this, went the mashed potatoes, with butter melting -on top of the pile.</p> - -<p>In the midst of the dinner, Mr. Camp suddenly -balanced his knife on his hand, struck the table -with the butt of his fork and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“I’ve got her, Bud.”</p> - -<p>“Got what, Pa?” broke in Mrs. Camp, nervously,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -as she sprang up and looked into the pot-pie -bowl.</p> - -<p>Her husband smiled, pounded the table again, -and went on:</p> - -<p>“Sure as shootin’, Bud, them fellers is agoin’ -to foller you. Mebbe you could go right back -there to the lake an’ never be discivered, and -mebbe not. ’Tain’t no use takin’ chances. Jest -you hold yer horses, finish yer pie, an’ I’ll put -a bug in yer ear.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got a way to hide me?” exclaimed -Bud eagerly.</p> - -<p>“I hev that. An’ it’s simple as A. B. C.”</p> - -<p>With most profuse thanks to Mrs. Camp for all -she had done for him and many promises to -come and see her later if anything prevented his -return that night, Bud took farewell of his hostess. -The men had already left with Josh’s dinner. -Out in the open space between the dooryard -and the mill, Mr. Camp, helping himself to an -ample supply of Kentucky twist, explained to -Bud the details of his plan for concealing the -aeroplane that night. It did not have to be told -twice. The exuberant boy chuckled with delight.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Camp,” exclaimed Bud, “if I ever get -my farm, I’m goin’ to buy an aeroplane. It’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -goin’ to be a two-seater, too. An’ the first passenger -’at rides with me’ll be you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir,” replied the farmer mill owner, -twisting a lock of his whiskers about his horny -finger and shaking his head, “don’t you worry -about me bein’ afeered.”</p> - -<p>It wasn’t an hour after the working squad -reached the dam and head gates again until the -aeroplane was ready for flight. The gasoline tank -was full, the oil cups were charged and the engine—to -the joy of Mr. Camp and his hands—had -been tested and found in order. The flat -boat had been lifted over the head-gate and was -on the flume ready to dart away upon the rushing -flood of water when the head-gate was raised. -Finally, the bird-like framework had been balanced -on the thwarts of the flat boat, and nothing -remain but to wait for the time to start.</p> - -<p>It was then a quarter after two o’clock. Nearly -a half hour remained before leaving time. In -spite of the plan proposed by Mr. Camp, Bud, it -was further suggested, ought to lose no opportunity -to mislead his almost certain pursuers. -This meant that he should arrange his flight from -the fair-grounds so that he would head west. -That would take him away from Scottsville and -toward a bit of low ground about four miles west<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -of the fair-ground. Both sides of this were -heavily timbered.</p> - -<p>“Ef ye kin git down thar in the ‘slashins’ -afore they git too clost to ye,” explained Mr. -Camp, “an’ it ain’t too dangersome to git clost -to the groun’, ye kin make a quick turn an’ -shoot along in the valley till ye come to the ole -Little Town road. An’ that’ll take ye furder in -the hills. Like as not ye kin git clean away unbeknownst -to ’em.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try it,” exclaimed Bud. “But I reckon -it don’t matter much. We got ’em cinched if -I ever get back here. And I’ll be here about a -quarter to four,” he added.</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp’s plan did credit to the old man’s -ingenuity. This is how he explained it to Bud:</p> - -<p>“Ye see the saw house down there?” he began. -“Well, sir, ’at’s fifty feet long, or more. -An’ ye see that track? They’s a car ’at runs on -that to haul the logs into the shed to be sawed. -When ye git back, ye’ll come right here and -land afore the mill. Me an’ Josh an’ the hands’ll -be waitin’ an’ the log car’ll be all ready. Afore -ye kin say Jack Robison, we’ll have thet flying-machine -on the log car an’ in the shed.”</p> - -<p>“And the doors closed,” added Bud enthusiastically.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not by no means. That would be suspicious -like ’cause they ain’t never shet. This afternoon, -they’ll be two pulleys rigged up in the comb o’ -the shed all ready to yank the flyin’-machine up -agin the roof—clear o’ the car.”</p> - -<p>“But they’ll see it!”</p> - -<p>“They’ll be some pieces o’ timber all sawed -to run acrost under the machine like as if it was -a kind of a second floor. An’ they’ll be plenty -o’ loose boards all stacked to lay on them jice. -I been kind o’ needin’ a attic there any way,” -laughed the grizzled mill owner. “An’ ef them -jice is old timber an’ the floor is old boards, I -reckon ain’t no one goin’ to suspicion it’s all -been made suddent like. An’ it don’t ’pear to -me any one’s goin’ to take the trouble to look -up in the attic fur no airplane.”</p> - -<p>It was at this point that Bud had chuckled. -Then his enthusiasm cooled.</p> - -<p>“How about getting another start?” he asked -suddenly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp chuckled in turn.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t I tell you about the hill and the -spring wagon and Josh for a engine?”</p> - -<p>“And we’ll carry it over there?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="image03"><img src="images/image03.jpg" width="600" height="417" alt="" title="" /> -</a><br /> - <div class="caption"><span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_166">The Start from the Flume.</a></span></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166-<br />167]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The log wagon can be made thirty feet long,” -drawled Mr. Camp with another laugh. “We’ll -haul it there like one o’ them poles they raise at -the rallies.”</p> - -<p>As these details were gone over again, the old -mill owner kept a close eye on his thick silver -watch. At twenty-five minutes of three, he arose -with the importance of Dewey at Manila.</p> - -<p>“Well, Bud,” he exclaimed, extending his -gnarled hand—his jaws working vigorously, as -they always did in moments of excitement, -“time’s up. An’ good luck to ye.”</p> - -<p>It was an exhilarating moment for Bud. Stationing -Josh and one of the men at either end of -the balanced airship, he knocked the block from -under the front of the flat boat, while the other -mill hands held the stern of the boat. Then, -tightening his hat, Bud took his seat, and rapidly -tested all levers.</p> - -<p>“Hold on, boys,” he said soberly, “until I -yell ‘Go.’”</p> - -<p>“Air ye all ready?” exclaimed Mr. Camp -standing over the head-gate with the lever that -swung it up in his hand.</p> - -<p>Bud turned in his seat, set the engine going, -and then watched the propellers begin to whirl. -As their speed increased and the car began to -tremble, he said in a low voice to Mr. Camp:</p> - -<p>“Turn her on!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>As the heavy-muscled man threw himself upon -the lever and the gates slowly rose, the banked -up water rolled out beneath them like a wave of -oil. As the released flood shot under the car, -Bud was firm in his seat, both hands on the levers. -There was a bob of the flat boat upward, -and the boy shouted, “Go!”</p> - -<p>For a moment only, the boat seemed to pause -like a chip on the brink of an angry waterfall, -and then, carried upon the crest of the new torrent, -it shot forward like a rock falling. There -was time only for a few swift blows on the sides -of the flume, and then the aeroplane, rising from -the impetus of its unique flight, leaped forward -and began to rise. Bud did not turn, but he -waved his hand in jubilation. The airship was -safely afloat.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /> -<small>AN EXHIBITION UNDER DIFFICULTIES.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It would require considerable space to describe -what took place when President Josiah -Elder reached the fair-ground, after receiving -Bud’s message, and found the airship shed -empty. A good share of his anger he took out -on poor Jim Hoarr, the watchman. And yet, -Jim could give no better explanation than that -Bud Wilson had suddenly appeared, out of -breath, a short time before, handed him the message, -and sent him on the run to the telephone in -the ticket office.</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder then read the message at first hand. -After that, while he still berated the watchman, -he began to think. What did it all mean? Who -were “they?” And why were “they” attempting -to take the aeroplane. After all, it could -mean only one thing. It must mean Mr. Dare. -The angered expert was probably up to some -trick. And if he was, the thing had probably -not yet been attempted. Sending his horse and -buggy away, the fair official withdrew to the airship -shed, dropped the front curtain, lit a cigar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -and sat down to await developments. Under a -box, he hid a lighted lantern.</p> - -<p>About ten o’clock he was rewarded. Under -instructions, the watchman remained quiet, when -stealthy footsteps approached and the front curtain -was raised. Waiting until three figures had -crawled into the shed, Mr. Elder suddenly drew -his lantern from its shelter. Before him stood -the discomfited Attorney Stockwell, Mr. T. Glenn -Dare and the deputy sheriff.</p> - -<p>“Good evening, gentlemen,” exclaimed the -waiting president. “Anything I can do for -you?”</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell put on a bold front. At -the same time, he looked about in open surprise. -The aeroplane was gone.</p> - -<p>“We’re here on an order of the Court, Josiah,” -began the lawyer. “I’ve been retained -by Mr. Dare to protect his rights.”</p> - -<p>“What rights?”</p> - -<p>“That’s not for me to pass on. It’s in the -hands of the Court. Mr. Dare has made affidavit -that the aeroplane we bought hasn’t been paid -for, and that he’s entitled to its possession. The -Court, so far, agrees with him. The officer of the -Court is here with a writ to take charge of the -apparatus.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - -<p>“All right,” replied Mr. Elder. “Help yourself.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t necessary for me to say this is no -laughing matter, Josiah. It ain’t what you and -me think. The Court has ordered the sheriff to -take charge of the machine.”</p> - -<p>“I recognize the power of the Court,” responded -the president. “I shan’t interfere.”</p> - -<p>“If you knew of this writ and have concealed -Mr. Dare’s property, of course, you know you -can be cited for contempt.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know of it, and I haven’t concealed -the aeroplane,” answered Mr. Elder, with a -smile.</p> - -<p>“Where is it?” demanded the lawyer.</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Some one stole it,” he added, with an increasing -smile.</p> - -<p>“Stole it?” exclaimed the lawyer and Mr. -Dare together.</p> - -<p>“This is all I know about it,” added Mr. Elder. -“And you are entitled to know it, too, as a -director of the fair.”</p> - -<p>He handed the perplexed and angry lawyer -Bud’s note. Attorney Stockwell read it, Mr. -Dare looking over his shoulder. When he had -finished, the lawyer, white with sudden anger,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -folded the bit of paper and put it into his vest -pocket.</p> - -<p>“You’ll notice, Stockwell, that that note is -addressed to me.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll just keep it as evidence. It may come in -handy.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder slowly put his lantern on the ground -and then stepped close to the lawyer’s side. -Holding out his hand he said, in a tone that -made Jim, the watchman, also step forward:</p> - -<p>“Hand me that note.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer stepped back. Then he weakened. -Drawing the scrap of paper from his pocket, -he handed it to his fellow director.</p> - -<p>“Are you backin’ him up in this?”</p> - -<p>“Stockwell,” answered Mr. Elder, “in the last -two or three days, I’ve seen a good deal of your -adopted son, and to-night, I’ve seen a good deal -of you. I don’t know any more about what Bud -has done or is going to do than this note tells. -But I do know this. From this time on, when it -comes to ‘backin’ him up, I think I’ll back him -in any fight he makes against you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” sneered the lawyer. “All I -can say is, you’re goin’ to have your hands full. -An’ you can begin your meddlin’ just the minute -this young thief lands on these grounds to-morrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -He’ll be arrested and charged with larceny. -If you interfere, I’ll give you all the -fight you want.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder turned to the silent expert.</p> - -<p>“I ought to tell you, Mr. Dare,” he said, ignoring -the lawyer’s threat, “that I telegraphed -to your company to-day all the facts concerning -your conduct. I also sent them a draft for the cost -of the aeroplane, minus your fee. If they won’t -settle on that basis, you are welcome to the property.” -Then he laughed, “The next time you -have a job like this and think you can come a -confidence game on the country jakes, you’d better -select some town that hasn’t a Bud Wilson in -it.”</p> - -<p>“Come on, Mr. Dare,” said Attorney Stockwell -pompously, “this fight’s just began. We’ll -have our innings to-morrow. There’ll be no exhibition -of our property on Saturday, at least. -And that’s the big day.”</p> - -<p>“If there isn’t,” replied Mr. Elder, good naturedly, -“it’ll be the first day your foster son -has fallen down. He seems a little swift for you, -Cyrus.”</p> - -<p>Before Mr. Elder could say more, the lawyer -and his two companions stalked out of the shed.</p> - -<p>It was always a question in Scottsville,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -whether Friday or Saturday would be the banner -day at the fair. From the looks of the -grounds at ten o’clock the next morning, it was -apparent that either the fine weather, good crops, -or the aeroplane was working wonders. The enclosure -was packed. Men, women and children -swayed back and forth; ice cream, candy, “hoky -poky,” peanuts, toy balloons, whips, “tin-types,” -photographs, dusty shoes all told that -the fair was in full swing. The “Wheel of Fortune” -operators; the barkers at the “side -shows;” the cries of the hatted Wild West young -men who besought onlookers to “hit a baby and -get a seegar,” or informed others vociferously -that “the cane you ring is the cane you get,” -made a hubbub the endless keynote of which -was the shrill organ at the “merry-go-round.”</p> - -<p>“She’ll run twelve thousand people to-day,” -suggested Superintendent Perry to President Josiah -Elder as the two came out of the ticket office.</p> - -<p>“And half of ’em are here to see our flyin’-machine,” -answered Mr. Elder. “What do you -’spose that kid’s expectin’ to do?”</p> - -<p>“What are <em>you</em> expectin’ to do?” answered -the superintendent, with a half smile. “Ye -don’t need to fear but he’ll be here. But after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -his show—what then? Ye kin be sure Stockwell’ll -be ready to grab the outfit. An’ then—how -about to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder shook his head. Then he explained -to Mr. Perry what the directors had done in the -matter of offering to settle with the manufacturers.</p> - -<p>“We’ve telegraphed them that our eighteen -hundred dollars is on the way, and told ’em how -this expert o’ theirs fell down. We’re expectin’ -an answer any time to-day callin’ him off. If -it don’t come, we’ll fight ’em as best we can. -But we’re all agreed we ain’t a goin’ to be held -up. We won’t pay Mr. T. Glenn Dare one cent. -He can break up the show to-morrow, but we -won’t weaken.”</p> - -<p>At two o’clock it looked as if another person -could hardly be crowded into the fair-grounds—at -least, not near the exhibition buildings and -concession tents. With the first tap of the bell in -the judge’s stand, like a field of snow slipping in -a body down a mountain side, the heaving mass -of humanity moved toward the race track. The -five hundred dollar purse for the two-twenty pace -marked the big feature of the speed contests and -a new record was set for “grandstand” receipts.</p> - -<p>But three men were not concerning themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -with this event. Sitting complacently together, -on a knoll under the only trees within the race -track, were Attorney Cyrus Stockwell, T. Glenn -Dare, the aviator, and Deputy Sheriff Pusey. -They were waiting to see how Bud Wilson was -going to keep his word. One heat of the big -race, delayed as usual, had been run, and the -first heat of the next event “green trotters without -a record” had been disposed of when two -other men left the judges’ stand and made their -way toward the empty airship shed or “aerodrome.” -These were President Elder and Superintendent -Perry. They were the reverse of complacent.</p> - -<p>It was only a few minutes of three o’clock and -the space about the aeroplane house was black -with people. Jim Hoarr, the watchman, keeping -the canvas front of the shed closed to conceal -the fact that there was no aeroplane within the -house, wondered what would happen when the -curious crowd learned that the house about -which they were crowded was empty.</p> - -<p>As the packed spectators gave way before Superintendent -Perry’s badge, Attorney Stockwell -and his friends fell in the wake of the president -and superintendent. The little party reached -the shed together.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Good afternoon, Josiah,” exclaimed the lawyer, -touching his fellow director on the arm. -“You see we’re right on time. I hope Bud -makes good his promise.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder scowled.</p> - -<p>“If he don’t,” continued Attorney Stockwell, -“what explanation are you going to make? I -see you have quite an audience.”</p> - -<p>He waved his hand about him, to include perhaps -ten thousand persons who had paid their -money to see the airship.</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder looked at his watch, swept the horizon -with his eyes and scowled again. It was just -three o’clock. “I reckon you’re in it as deep -as I am, as far as the crowd knows,” the president -finally replied, in a low voice. “I—”</p> - -<p>A sudden murmur ran through the surging -crowd. Mr. Elder paused and looked quickly -about. He saw nothing approaching, but before -he could continue, an arm shot out from the field -of spectators and pointed almost directly overhead. -Then the mass of people began to melt -away with thousands of “Ahs,” and “Ohs” and -“There she comes.”</p> - -<p>At least fifteen hundred feet in the air, Bud’s -stolen aeroplane was rushing forward to make -its advertised exhibition. Where it had come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -from, no one seemed to know. Not one of the -men most interested had seen it until that moment, -and it was swooping down upon the fair-grounds -as if it had come from above the clouds. -So high was it that, at the angle it was traveling, -it had to pass over the grounds. The sight set -the crowd off in a frenzy of excitement. In a -cloud of dust, the eager spectators ran forward -as if to follow the aeroplane. In its wake were -the lawyer, his client, and the deputy sheriff.</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder stood as if transfixed.</p> - -<p>“I guess I’ll wait developments right here,” -he said, turning to Jim Hoarr. “Get the shed -ready.”</p> - -<p>“I seen it,” said Jim, “but I thought it was a -bird.”</p> - -<p>“Where did he come from?” asked the fair -official.</p> - -<p>“Plumb out o’ the north, but about a mile -high. An’ it sailed right over the ground afore -it turned. Not fur me,” added Jim, shaking his -head.</p> - -<p>Having passed out over the grounds again, the -aeroplane was seen sweeping in a long curve -on the turn. The scrambling crowd slackened, -and the airship, five hundred feet above the trees, -headed back again. For an instant, it darted upward,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -and then, settling once more, made a curving -swing toward the waiting thousands.</p> - -<p>“Here she comes,” rose in a deafening roar.</p> - -<p>Bud’s face could be made out for the first time. -It wore neither smile nor alarm. It was as placid -as marble. With his feet close together in his -stirrups, his body erect and tense, his blue flannel -shirt fluttering in the breeze, he held his -course with the ease of a locomotive engineer.</p> - -<p>“Now,” exclaimed Attorney Stockwell to -Deputy Pusey, “get your writ ready an’ keep -your eyes peeled. Nab him the minute he -lights.”</p> - -<p>Once over the mob of upturned faces—gathered -now mainly on the long stretch of the race-track—Bud’s -body swayed and his machine -veered. In another moment, the aeroplane had -altered its course and was on its way circling -the grounds just above the track. Ten thousand -people rushed forward in spontaneous excitement. -Just off the track, Attorney Stockwell -watched, breathed hard, and waited.</p> - -<p>On the back stretch of the track, the aeroplane -sank lower and lower until by the time the upper -turn was reached, it was just over the heads -of the spectators. Then, came the flight down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -the track, over the crowd and in front of the -grand-stand.</p> - -<p>“I’ll show ’em I can travel where I please,” -said Bud to himself. “Hold on to your hats,” -he yelled suddenly, as he smiled for the first -time.</p> - -<p>With a dart, the car skimmed toward the jam -of humanity like a swallow skims over a pond. -Falling over each other, pushing, knocking and -yelling, the crowd attempted to clear the track. -There was a crash, and, as Bud swept onward, -not over twenty feet above the ground, the track -fence gave way, and the panic stricken crowd -sank in confused heaps.</p> - -<p>“Keep off the track,” yelled Bud warningly.</p> - -<p>From the judges’ stand, the figure of Superintendent -Perry suddenly leaped forward. In -his hand, he waved his big black hat warningly.</p> - -<p>“Git back there, git back,” he called in a loud -voice. “Git back, an’ keep back, or some one’ll -get killed.”</p> - -<p>At that instant, the aeroplane, like a yacht in -a gale, swept by the grand-stand. There was the -low hum of propellers, and the whirr of the engine, -but not a creak from the car itself, and not -a word or look from the gritty young aviator. -A buzz of relieved admiration seemed to rise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -like a breeze from the grand-stand, the thousands -on the dust deep race-track caught their breath, -and Bud had passed. His first circuit of the -course had been made.</p> - -<p>From the airship house on the center of the -track, three figures were rushing forward. They -had just made a discovery.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Stockwell,” Deputy Pusey had suddenly -exclaimed as he saw Bud enter on his second lap, -“do you know what he’s a goin’ to do?”</p> - -<p>The attorney had just suspected, but he was -watching the flying car as if fascinated.</p> - -<p>“He’s goin’ to beat us after all,” shouted the -deputy, grabbing the lawyer’s arm. “He ain’t -a goin’ to land. He’s a goin’ to fly away agin.”</p> - -<p>An awful word came from Mr. T. Glenn Dare’s -lips, and Attorney Stockwell, his face red with -new anger, sprang forward as if to intercept the -flying boy.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br /> -<small>THE ENEMY OUTWITTED ONCE MORE.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Just within the race-track enclosure and in the -shade of the judges’ stand, stood Deputy Sheriff -Pusey’s side-bar buggy and his famous roadster. -The rig was known all over the county. Its appearance -usually meant the service of a writ, a -subpoena or a warrant. It was a forlorn hope, -but, before the aeroplane had reached the far -end of the track again, the deputy and Attorney -Stockwell were in the buggy and the county official, -his big official badge blazing on his blue -coat and his official voice demanding that the -crowd give way, were forcing a path through -the packed crowd.</p> - -<p>Before the horse could make much headway, -the aeroplane was racing down the “stretch” -once more—this time even nearer the ground. -As the whirr of the engine struck on the horse’s -ears and the wide white planes of the car filled -the width of the track just above, the horse -reared, lunged forward, and the aeroplane had -passed once more.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” rang out from the aeroplane at once. -“Want me, Mr. Stockwell?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> - -<p>There was a mutter of enraged words in the -buggy, and then, the crowd, alarmed at the -horse’s actions, fell back in confusion. With a -quick command, the lawyer spoke to his companion, -and, with a glance at the aeroplane, already -on the far side of the race-track on its next -round, the frightened horse was forced through -the crowd toward the head of the “stretch” down -which the flying-machine would come on its next -lap.</p> - -<p>The turn was reached just before Bud arrived -from the opposite direction.</p> - -<p>“Now, Pusey,” exclaimed the lawyer, grabbing -the lines and whirling the horse about, “get -on the seat and serve him ef you can. Get your -writ ready. Ef he comes clost enough, grab him -and hold on. I’ll take care of the horse.”</p> - -<p>Attorney Stockwell, whip in hand, headed the -rearing animal down the track, yelling to the -crowd to get out of the way. The massed people -saw what was coming. Between the low-flying -aeroplane and the galloping horse, a second injunction -was not needed. As the track opened -up before the snorting animal, already on a dead -run, with its ears laid back, Deputy Pusey -sprang to the seat of the buggy, and began to -wave his writ.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> - -<p>Bud understood the situation as well as if it -had been explained to him. A provoking smile -came on his face, and with a reckless daring he -headed the car straight at the deputy’s head. -Down the stretch together, came the foaming, -galloping horse and the swiftly moving aeroplane. -Holding with one hand to Attorney -Stockwell’s shoulder, the deputy sheriff—he had -already lost his official hat—waved his writ and -yelled:</p> - -<p>“Hey, there, Bud Wilson, <a href="#image01">in the name of the -law, Stop!</a>”</p> - -<p>“Busy,” cried out Bud. “See you to-morrow. -Can’t stop to-day.”</p> - -<p>“You’re under arrest,” shouted Attorney -Stockwell.</p> - -<p>The temptation was too great. Without answering, -Bud gave the horizontal rudder a slight -turn, and the speeding car shot at the deputy’s -wobbling form.</p> - -<p>“Grab him,” shouted the lawyer, as the car -dropped.</p> - -<p>Spurred on by the jeers and hoots of the thousands -watching the strange contest, the county -officer made a feeble effort to respond. As he -threw his body up in a half-hearted effort to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -catch the car, now just overhead, the aeroplane -sprang up once more.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye,” shouted Bud, “you’re too slow. -See you later.”</p> - -<p>Deputy Pusey balanced himself for a second, -and then tumbled forward between the foam-flecked -horse and the light buggy. A dozen men -grabbed the bridle of the horse, and the lawyer, -with an effort pulled the deputy into the buggy.</p> - -<p>As the machine sped by the judges’ stand, -Bud heard a voice:</p> - -<p>“Good boy, Bud,” it sounded jubilantly.</p> - -<p>Bud glanced quickly, and saw President Elder, -Superintendent Perry, and a crowd of other -laughing and excited fair officials.</p> - -<p>“Be back at three o’clock to-morrow,” sang -out the boy in response.</p> - -<p>In another instant, his obedient craft was on -the lower turn, and, with the shouts and cheers of -the assembled multitude ringing in his ears, Bud -prepared to make his escape. At the extreme -end of the track, he threw the lever of the vertical -rudder over so sharply that the car almost -capsized. Like a bird with a wounded wing, -the framework fell partly on its side. Bud’s -heart thumped. The ground seemed rushing up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -to meet him. To even scrape the surface meant -ruin to the car.</p> - -<p>The boy retained his presence of mind and did -the right thing. But the car had lost so much -headway that it did not respond at once. It -wavered, tried to recover itself and then, almost -balanced, fell within five or six feet of the earth. -Escape did not seem possible. The aeroplane -was yet on an angle, and the low end of the frame -was just escaping the ground. If it struck, Bud’s -work was over. Like lightning, the thought -came to him that he must jump to escape the -wreckage.</p> - -<p>Just then, with the spring of an animal, a man’s -crouched form hurled itself from the ground beneath -the dragging end. Bud’s dry lips tried to -cry out, but there was no time. His eye was -quicker than his tongue. He saw the bronzed -face of Jack Stanley, his gypsy friend, but no -sound came from the boy’s lips. As the gypsy’s -face flashed before him, something seemed to -strike the car. A shock ran through the frame, -and then, as if caught by a gale of wind, the -dragging end of the frame flew up—the aeroplane, -gathering speed, darted ahead, and the -ship righting herself, began once more to climb -skyward.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Go it, Kid—yer all right!”</p> - -<p>These words followed after Bud as he renewed -his flight, and he realized that once again Jack -Stanley had helped him over a crisis. Or, was -it Madame Zecatacas’ magic ring?</p> - -<p>“If it’s the ring,” thought Bud, “I’m goin’ -to have still more use fur it. It’s got to make -Jack and his wife sign the deed for me.”</p> - -<p>Straight west over the “aerodrome,” the aeroplane -took its new course as steadily and easily -as if had not just escaped destruction. Several -hundred feet in the air, Bud set the car on a level -keel headed for the “slashings”—the valley -some miles ahead.</p> - -<p>He was well out of the grounds when Attorney -Stockwell and the deputy untangled themselves -from the dense crowd. But at no time, was he -out of the lawyer’s sight. To the indignation -of the spectators, Mr. Stockwell forced the deputy’s -horse through the crowd and hurried toward -the fair-ground entrance. There was no -rear entrance leading in the direction Bud had -flown, and in hastening to the main gate, the -buggy had nearly a half mile to cover before -passing from the enclosure. This was under -trees and behind buildings that at once cut off -the view of the disappearing aeroplane.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<p>The road leading to the fair-grounds from the -main thoroughfare or pike, ran north. Finally -reaching the east-and-west road, the deputy’s -horse was put to a run. It was then a half mile -further before the flying car could possibly be -seen, as, for that distance, the main road ran -between trees. It was not until ten minutes -after the excited lawyer and the bruised deputy -had started on their chase that they came out -into the open road.</p> - -<p>“There he goes,” exclaimed Deputy Pusey, -when they did.</p> - -<p>“Giddap,” shouted the lawyer, hitting the already -galloping animal with the end of the lines. -“He’s goin’ like all sixty.”</p> - -<p>Almost directly ahead, and perhaps four miles -away, the aeroplane hung like a bird. Without -knowledge of what it really was, the object could -not have been picked out for other than a bird -in flight.</p> - -<p>“I’m afeered he’s given us the slip,” added -the deputy.</p> - -<p>“He ain’t goin’ far,” replied the panting lawyer, -still slapping the already jaded horse.</p> - -<p>“You’re right,” sang out his companion. -“He’s lightin’ a’ready.”</p> - -<p>It seemed that this was true. The aeroplane,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -which was no great distance in the air, was dropping -slowly toward a distant line of trees.</p> - -<p>“Comin’ down in the woods,” said Attorney -Stockwell.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t that the aidge o’ the ‘slashins’?” exclaimed -the deputy.</p> - -<p>“Looks like it. Well, there ain’t any place -there to hide. It’s all marsh or medder or underbrush,” -argued the lawyer. “Anyway, keep -your eyes peeled to see ’at he don’t come up -again on the fur side.”</p> - -<p>Twenty minutes later, the pursuers mounted -the high ground concealing the valley beyond. -There was a final quick dash down the gully road, -and the low ground spread out before them. The -aeroplane was nowhere in sight.</p> - -<p>“Well,” began the deputy, “there ye are—all -for nothin’.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer pointed his whip ahead. An old -man, apparently in charge of a solitary cow -whose bell had attracted the attorney’s attention, -was slowly coming toward them. The pursuers -hastened ahead to meet the man.</p> - -<p>“D’you see an airship sailing out here?” -called out the attorney.</p> - -<p>The herdsman looked up blankly. On a venture, -Deputy Pusey addressed him in German.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -Some intelligence came into the old man’s face. -Then he nodded his head and pointed north.</p> - -<p>“He thought it was a big bird,” explained -the deputy with a sneer. “And he says it flew -low like a hawk.”</p> - -<p>He questioned the man some minutes, and then -added:</p> - -<p>“As near as I can make out, the kid kept -down below the trees and then disappeared in -them. That means he probably kept going till -he struck the Little Town pike about two miles -north. He couldn’t fly into the trees. He’s -took the Little Town road. Like as not he’s -headed for Little Town.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer looked at his watch. It was three-forty-five.</p> - -<p>“It’s no use to hurry now,” he explained. -“We’ll go on till we come to the section road -and cross over to the Little Town pike. Then -we’ll go to Little Town. We’ll probably meet -some one who’s seen him. If we don’t we’ll -get supper at that place an’ do some telephonin’. -He can’t hide that thing out in the open country.”</p> - -<p>Some minutes before Bud’s estimated return, -Josh Camp, perched upon the roof of the mill, -set up a shout.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Here he comes,” was his cry to those waiting -below, and almost before Josh could reach -the ground, the bird-like craft was slowly drifting -to rest in the mill place—the engine shut off, -and the propellers at rest. Eager hands caught -it and eased it to the ground, and Bud, trembling -under the strain, climbed stiffly from his seat.</p> - -<p>“I’ve had the time of my life,” he began -abruptly. “Old Andy Pusey chased me around -the track with some kind of a paper—said I was -under arrest.”</p> - -<p>“Are they after you?” interrupted Mr. -“Stump” Camp at once.</p> - -<p>“Sure,” went on Bud. “Mr. Stockwell and -Andy had a buggy and Pusey’s big bay horse. -You can bet they’re after me. But I don’t -believe they saw me after I got in the ‘slashins.’ -I didn’t see them.”</p> - -<p>Bud’s hands trembled so that he could -scarcely assist in disposing of the aeroplane. -But he was hardly needed. Before five o’clock, -the airship had been hauled into the sawing -shed on the log car, drawn to the roof by means -of the waiting tackles and the false floor put into -place. To the uninformed, a glance into the shed -suggested as unlikely a place for hiding a forty-foot -aeroplane as the top of a haystack.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was yet an hour before supper time, and -the irrepressible Bud and Josh set out at once -to select a place for the next day’s flight.</p> - -<p>“An’ don’t be late,” called out Mrs. Camp. -“We got fried chicken, sweet potato pie and -hickorynut cake.”</p> - -<p>About the time the Camps, Bud, and the hired -hands were attacking a big platter of fried -chicken, Attorney Stockwell and Deputy Sheriff -Pusey were making the best supper they could -out of yellow cheese, dried beef and crackers in -the Little Town general store. This accomplished, -the lawyer, tracing in a general way on -a county map the probable course of the lost -aeroplane, called by telephone those farmers who, -in his judgment, might have seen the airship.</p> - -<p>Fortunately for Bud, the Camp’s Mill telephone -was out of order. The operator in Scottsville -could not tell what was the matter. She had -no way of knowing that the wily mill owner had -taken the instrument off the hook just after Josh -announced the returning aeroplane was in sight. -Josh’s report that there had been telephoning -in Little Town the day before was tip enough -to the unlearned but crafty farmer.</p> - -<p>But, unfortunately for Bud, an incident occurred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -in the general store a little later that set -the lawyer to thinking.</p> - -<p>“Hey, Phil,” called out the proprietor, “I -don’t see no charge o’ that five gallon o’ gasoline -Josh Camp got this mornin’.”</p> - -<p>Phil’s excuse was lost on Attorney Stockwell. -He looked at Deputy Pusey significantly. The -moment the officer’s horse had finished his oats, -the two men were in the buggy hurrying toward -Camp’s Mill, a locality as well known to both of -them as to Bud. At seven o’clock, it was growing -dusk. When the buggy turned from the road -into the open space before the mill, Mr. Camp, -Josh, and Bud were sitting on the porch, the -former with his cob pipe. Mr. Camp nudged -Bud, who rolled off the edge of the porch onto -the grass and crawled around the house.</p> - -<p>The greeting between the deputy and the mill -owner was that of old friends, but Attorney -Stockwell did not stop for civilities. He became -officious at once.</p> - -<p>“Say, Camp,” he exclaimed, “we have reason -to believe you know something about some stolen -property.”</p> - -<p>Before he could say more, the deputy interrupted -his companion to explain in detail what -had happened. Then he added why they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -come to the mill, telling of Josh’s gasoline purchase.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Camp, drawing on his not -very fragrant pipe. “Can’t I buy gasoline if I -like?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t beat around the bush,” broke in Attorney -Stockwell.</p> - -<p>“Look a’ here, Stockwell,” exclaimed old -“Stump.” “I never did have the best opinion o’ -you. I don’t like to say right out I think you’re -a shyster cause I ain’t lookin’ to start nothin’. -An’ that’s more considerate than some bluffers -I know.”</p> - -<p>“Have you seen the machine?” put in the deputy -again, anxious to avoid trouble.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know much about the law,” drawled -the mill owner, “but I got a hunch I don’t have -to answer that less’n I want to.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t lose time with him,” sneered the lawyer. -“You have the authority. Search the -place. I’ll help you.”</p> - -<p>“So’ll I,” volunteered Mr. Camp. “Ef ye find -any flyin’-machine on this place or round about, -yer welcome to it. Mr. Deputy, you do your duty. -An’ when you’re convinced, git.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer and the deputy began rather unsystematically<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -to look about the premises, starting -first for the lumber piles below the mill.</p> - -<p>“Better look in the mill afore it’s too dark,” -suggested Mr. Camp, pointing to the sawing -shed.</p> - -<p>The lawyer sneered again.</p> - -<p>“I reckon we’ll look amongst them piles of -timber,” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>Deputy Pusey followed the mill owner up the -little track to the long, open shed and peered -inside.</p> - -<p>“Like to climb up into the attic?” asked Mr. -Camp, carefully filling his pipe, and nodding -upward.</p> - -<p>The officer smiled, turned and shook his head. -When it was completely dark and the two -searchers had returned to the buggy empty -handed, Mr. Camp was sitting on the fence, his -pipe sputtering and glowing in the black night.</p> - -<p>“Camp,” exclaimed Attorney Stockwell angrily, -“I think you know a good deal more’n -you’re lettin’ on.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon that’s right, Mr. Stockwell,” -drawled the mill owner, without changing his -position. “I wouldn’t be supprized ef I told -all I knowed ’at a certain lawyer might take to -the woods. D’you find any airships?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> - -<p>With a curse, the lawyer sprang into his -buggy and drove rapidly away. Before the -buggy was out of sound, a small figure seemed -to appear out of the grass back of the silent man -on the fence. It was Bud, a little nervous, but -with a wide smile.</p> - -<p>“Say, Mr. Camp,” he exclaimed, “I was kind -o’ scart when you askt ole Pusey to git up there -in the attic where the machine was.”</p> - -<p>“How’s that?” asked the old man.</p> - -<p>“’Cause I was up there, hidin’.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br /> -<small>BUD DISCOVERS A FRIEND.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Even the fragrant restfulness of Mrs. Camp’s -spare bedroom did not make Bud sleep soundly -that night. For almost the first time in his life, -he was restless. In the morning, he was far -from as lively as he had been the day before.</p> - -<p>“What’s ailin’ ye, Son?” began Mr. Camp -when they sat down to the usual ham, eggs and -biscuits. “You don’t seem very peart to-day. -Ain’t afeerd air ye?”</p> - -<p>Bud only shook his head and tried to smile.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t sleep well,” was his answer. “I -reckon I’m tired o’ all this excitement.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp looked at him closely, but said no -more. When breakfast was over and Bud -started toward the sawing shed, Mr. Camp followed -him.</p> - -<p>“Now ye better git it offen yer mind, Bud. -Tell me yer troubles.”</p> - -<p>The boy made another feeble effort to say he -was all right. Then, his voice trembling a little, -he said hastily:</p> - -<p>“I’m kind o’ lonesome, Mr. Camp. An’ you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -folks have been so good to me that it makes me -all the lonesomer.”</p> - -<p>The grizzled mill owner laughed.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why yer botherin’ ’bout that. -We ain’t seen nur heerd much o’ ye fur a good -many years. But your folks was purty good -friends o’ mother an’ me. An’ ye knowed Josh. -Why, Bud, it seems almost like as ye was related -to us. We’ll be glad to hev ye come out -here whenever ye like.”</p> - -<p>“I thank you, Mr. Camp. But I didn’t mean -that exactly. I ain’t got no home now. An’ I -ain’t got no education. An’ I’m purt near too -old to go to school ef I could.”</p> - -<p>“Ain’t got no home?”</p> - -<p>Bud related how he had been cast out by Attorney -Stockwell; how all his worldly possessions -were in the little bundle he had brought -with him the night before; and how he had now -in his pocket just five dollars.</p> - -<p>Mr. Camp’s whiskers worked violently. He -tried to ask two or three questions at once. -Mainly, why Bud hadn’t told him this, and how -it happened that he was working for nothing in -such a dangerous enterprise. The boy satisfied -him as well as he could.</p> - -<p>“Now,” interrupted the old man, at last, “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -ain’t got but one thing to say. Yer a goin’ to -turn over this craft this evenin’ to the fair folks, -air ye?”</p> - -<p>Bud nodded his head.</p> - -<p>“An’ ye’ll quit without no wages and without -no home?”</p> - -<p>Bud nodded his head again.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve give Josh leave to take the old -sorrel and drive his mother to the fair to-day—I -got to be the startin’ engine myself. They’ll -be there long afore you git there. When yer’s -flyin’ ’s all over, ye’ll git right into the spring -wagon with ’em and come right out here to old -‘Stump’ Camp’s. This here’ll be yer home till -ye git another.”</p> - -<p>The tears came into Bud’s eyes.</p> - -<p>“I can’t do that, Mr. Camp. I haven’t any -money—”</p> - -<p>“Don’t I need hands?” interrupted Mr. -Camp, with assumed gruffness.</p> - -<p>“If you’ll let me work for you?” began Bud. -But again he was interrupted.</p> - -<p>“Ye don’t need to do that long,” Mr. Camp -hastened to say. “Your gaurdeen, Mr. Stockwell, -didn’t spare me none last night. If I -ain’t mistook there’s somepin comin’ to ye, Bud.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -An’ I’m goin’ to make it my business to see ’at -ye git yer jest dues.”</p> - -<p>“You mean the farm?” exclaimed Bud.</p> - -<p>“Sure’s yer born,” continued <a href="#image04">Mr. Camp</a>, rubbing -his chin. “An’ mebbe more. I’ve heered -a good deal I ain’t said nothin’ about to you.”</p> - -<p>“But there’s Jack Stanley and his wife! -They are the only ones who can help me, aren’t -they? You said they could give me a clear title -to my property. I’ve got to see them before -they leave the fair to-night.”</p> - -<p>The old man slowly winked at the lad.</p> - -<p>“Ketched,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean -to tell ye about it, Bud. But after Mr. Stockwell -got so fresh with me las’ night, I jes made up -my mind to hand him somepin’ an’ help you a little -at the same time.”</p> - -<p>The sawmill owner reached into the hip pocket -of his trousers and <a href="#image04">drew out an envelope</a>. On -it, addressed in an awkward hand, were these -words:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>“Mr. John Reed or Jack Stanley,<br /> -<span class="padl9">Fair Grounds.”</span></p> -</div> - -<p>“That’s why Josh an’ mother air a goin’ to -the fair,” he chuckled again. “An’ ef this -don’t bring my old friend Stanley’s wife and -son-in-law out to Camp’s Mill by to-morrer, I -miss my guess.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> -<a id="image04"> - <img src="images/image04.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="" title="" /> -</a><br /> -<div class="caption"><span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_200">Mr. Camp Drew Out an Envelope.</a></span></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202-<br />203]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And you are doin’ this to try to get them -to fix my property for me?” Bud asked, his -lip quivering.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m jes doin’ it—that’s all,” answered -Mr. Camp. “Now, you set yer mind at ease. I -ain’t askin’ no credit. I jes want to hear Cy -Stockwell swear. That’s all.”</p> - -<p>When two o’clock came that day, Josh and -Mrs. Camp were on the fair-grounds. Instead -of the somewhat stiff mill owner, one of the mill -hands had been substituted as the motive power -to start the spring wagon down hill. Mr. Camp, -the two hands and Bud had safely conveyed the -aeroplane through the wood road, up over the -hill (knocking down two fences in the process) -and the greased spring wagon stood like an Atlas -with the waiting airship balanced on its -body.</p> - -<p>In all its history there had been no such attendance -on the Scott County fair as poured -through the gates on this Saturday. The story -of what Bud had done had at last become public, -and the entire town was alive with gossip and -comment. The details became such a sensation -and were so well known that it wasn’t “Goin’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -out to the grounds?” that day. The morning -salutation was, “Goin’ out to see Bud Wilson -this afternoon?”</p> - -<p>Lafe Pennington, now fully recovered, had -been a spectator of Bud’s return and escape. -He had the good taste to make no comment, but -it was a sore trial to his pride. After Bud’s spectacular -exhibition and flight the day before, -President Elder, all smiles over his defeat of the -enemy, was hastening from the judges’ stand -when he espied Lafe.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Lafe,” called out the jubilant official. -Lafe wanted to escape, but he couldn’t. “Do -you know what they’re all sayin’, Lafe?” continued -Mr. Elder, edging up to the embarrassed -bank clerk. “They’re talkin’ it around town -that the old gypsy scared you. Folks say you -were scar’t to run the airship.”</p> - -<p>“Well, let ’em,” retorted Lafe. “Talk’s -cheap. They’d be tellin’ another story if they -knew the facts. It ain’t much to guide an aeroplane. -But I’d like to see any one else in this -town set one up and get it ready.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” continued President Elder, “you can -shut ’em up next week if you want to. If we get -our dispute adjusted over the flyin’-machine, -we got an offer to make an exhibition at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -State Fair. It’s gone all over the state. Biggest -thing any fair ever had.”</p> - -<p>Lafe was visibly disturbed.</p> - -<p>“How’d you like to try your hand up to the -State Fair?” asked Mr. Elder, with pretended -seriousness.</p> - -<p>“You gentlemen have made your choice,” faltered -Lafe. “You’ve picked out your operator. -I ain’t takin’ none of Bud Wilson’s leavin’s.”</p> - -<p>As Lafe hurried away, Mr. Elder smiled. Although -Lafe was again in the crowd the next day, -he took good care to avoid the president.</p> - -<p>Bud, now eager to escape from his responsibility, -was a little ahead of time in reaching -the grounds on his last flight. But he did not -arrive before the crowd. The grand-stand, race -track, and part of the enclosure were jammed -again. The nervous eagerness, the restless scanning -of the sky in all directions and the spectators’ -impatience were rewarded about five -minutes before three o’clock, when the dark, oblong -aeroplane was made out in the sky north -of the grounds.</p> - -<p>This day, the band was prepared, and as Bud -whirled into the course, the vociferous musicians -struck up La Poloma—more appropriate than -the leader knew, as the translation of the Spanish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -means “The Dove.” But Bud wasn’t a -white dove that day. Old “Stump” Camp, -either from a sense of humor or a love for the -beautiful, had proposed and actually decorated -the bare aeroplane framework with flowers.</p> - -<p>The gaudiest blooms in Mother Camp’s garden -had been tied to the car uprights, and right and -left of the young aviator were bunches of pink, -red and white hollyhocks that met almost in an -arch over Bud’s head. At each end, there was -single, mammoth sunflowers. Even across the -track enclosure, the decorations could be made -out, and the usual “Ahs” and “Ohs” soon -swelled into a wave of amused admiration.</p> - -<p>Again the crowd surged forward and back, -horses backed and reared, and the band umpahed -and quavered.</p> - -<p>With knowledge born of the previous day’s -experience, the crowd parted as the circling car -came into the head of the stretch on its first lap, -and Bud had no occasion to call out warnings. -He was greeted with salutations of all kinds. -This time, with growing confidence, he felt able -to look about. His eyes sought eagerly for his -foster father, Mr. Dare, or the deputy sheriff.</p> - -<p>Then he smiled and the crowd yelled. But -Bud was smiling because his quick eyes had detected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -what he hoped to find. Over in front of -the deserted “aerodrome,” he saw the three men. -He had guessed right. Since the fair would conclude -that day, Bud realized that there was no -longer any object in trying to hide the aeroplane. -Whatever legal fight was to be made could now -be carried on without embarrassment to the fair -association.</p> - -<p>“My work’s done,” Bud had said to himself. -“All I want to do now is to turn over the machine -and get away. And I’m goin’ to get away quick. -They said I was under arrest. Not if I know it.”</p> - -<p>Then the aeroplane approached the crowded -grand-stand. As it did so, Bud threw his vertical -lever slightly to the starboard and brought the -car just in front of the packed seats. Every one -sprang up, open-mouthed and curious. As the -graceful car drifted by the structure, the young -aviator, smiling, reached out to the nearest of his -vertical frames and jerked loose a large pink -bundle. With another swift motion, the mass of -pink went whirling through the air toward the -spectators. Hundreds of spicy, clove-pinks separated -and fluttered among the outstretched -hands.</p> - -<p>At considerable risk, Bud jerked off his hat -and leaned forward.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> - -<p>“For the ladies,” he shouted, “with the compliments -of Mr. Elder.”</p> - -<p>In the roar of thousands of voices, yelling and -laughing, the aeroplane shot by. On the back -stretch of the track, Bud again made sure that -Mr. Stockwell and Deputy Pusey were at the airship -shed. As he passed on his second round, the -cries were deafening.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with the hollyhocks?”</p> - -<p>“Give us a sunflower?”</p> - -<p>“Have ’em all in a few minutes,” thought Bud.</p> - -<p>As the third round began, Bud set himself for -his finish.</p> - -<p>“They’ll certainly figure that I’m going to -come down to-day,” he said to himself. “And -I am. But not where they’re waitin’ for me.”</p> - -<p>The natural thing for the aviator to do would -be to pass by the grand-stand, thus completing -his third circuit, and then, at the lower end of the -track, to make a quick turn and head directly up -the center of the enclosure to the shed. What -every one expected, Bud did not do. He didn’t -propose to stop for explanations or to be arrested.</p> - -<p>As the aeroplane approached the grand-stand, -Bud made a sweeping turn into the track enclosure, -shut off his power, and, with a graceful -dip over the heads of the spectators, sank swiftly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -toward the ground where the crowd had thinned -into groups.</p> - -<p>In the crowd was one young man who noted -every movement of Bud’s with a trained eye. -Neither Bud nor those standing next to the -square shouldered young stranger knew that -Sergeant Morey Marshall of the U. S. Signal -Corps, stationed at Omaha, had been rushed to -Scottsville on the first express to observe and report -on the daring flight of the amateur aviator. -If Bud Wilson had known it part of his composure -might have left him for, to the Hoosier lad, -Morey Marshall, the hero of “In the Clouds for -Uncle Sam,” stood along side such operators as -Wright and Curtiss in skilful daring as an aviator. -There came a time when the two boys met -and were glad to know each other.</p> - -<p>“Ketch her,” cried Bud sharply. Almost before -any one knew what had taken place, twenty -willing hands had the sinking car in their grip. -While it was still in the air, supported by the -proud volunteers, Bud drew his feet from his -stirrups, caught the framework and dropped -nimbly to the ground. Hundreds of persons were -already massed around the mysterious craft. -One after another turned to speak to or shake -the hand of Bud, but, somehow, when President<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -Elder at last reached the spot, out of breath, Bud -was gone.</p> - -<p>And, strangely enough, although it was early -in the afternoon, the aeroplane had no sooner -landed than Mrs. “Stump” Camp and her son, -Josh, made their way to the hitch racks and -hooked up the old sorrel. Another strange thing—they -did not go home by way of Scottsville, but -took the longer way east to the “slashings.” -About a half mile east of the road leading into -the fair-ground, the old sorrel drew up, and Bud -Wilson, considerably puffed by his long run -through the intermediate cornfields, stepped out -of a fence corner and climbed into the rear seat.</p> - -<p>About eight o’clock the same evening, two -boney horses drawing a gaudily-painted gypsy -van passed over the Scottsville bridge toward -Little Town. It was Jack Stanley on his way to -take Sunday dinner with old “Stump” Camp.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br /> -<small>THE PRIVATE OFFICE OF THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK.</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The following Monday morning, an odd little -caravan marched around the Scottsville public -square toward the First National Bank. Old -“Stump” Camp, in his black Sunday hat, and -freshly shaven down to his lower cheeks where -his wide-spreading whiskers began, led the -group. By his side was Madame Zecatacas, the -Gypsy Queen, her long earrings bobbing. Behind -them, walked “Jack Stanley,” her son-in-law, -and his wife. Their child was, at that moment, -assisting Mother Camp to sugar doughnuts, -eight miles away at Camp’s Mill.</p> - -<p>“Stump” Camp was not ignored at the First -National Bank, and when he escorted his followers -into that austere financial institution and -asked to see President Elder, he was led into the -latter’s private office at once. What followed behind -the closed door in the next twenty minutes -or so was a question that more than worried the -bookkeeper, cashier and clerk, Lafe Pennington, -in the outside room.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to borry no money,” began Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -Camp when President Elder greeted him with the -usual banker’s coolness. “Nor I ain’t come to -pay none.”</p> - -<p>The banker made courteous offers of chairs to -all.</p> - -<p>“These air some ole friends o’ mine,” went on -the mill owner, selecting a chair near a cuspidor, -“an’ they’re a goin’ to help me help some one -else.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Camp, what can I do for you? Tradin’ -horses again?”</p> - -<p>The farmer-miller shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Me an’ you knowed Bud Wilson’s father, -Josiah.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” responded the banker. “And -I’ve just come to know the boy.”</p> - -<p>“So’ve I,” exclaimed Mr. Camp, drawing -over and using the cuspidor. “That’s the pint. -An’ to keep to the pint, I got to tell you somepin’ -mebbe ye don’t know. Bud’s father was a neighbor -o’ mine, as ye might say. An’ we farmers -sort o’ keep clost watch o’ each other. When ye -knowed Mr. Wilson, he lived in town.”</p> - -<p>“Then he bought a farm out your way—out -about Little Town.”</p> - -<p>“He did. An’ what’s curious, he paid for it—cash—four<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -thousand eight hundred dollars for -eighty acres.”</p> - -<p>The bank president seemed to be thinking.</p> - -<p>“I suppose it’ll be Bud’s when the boy’s of -age?” he suggested, at last.</p> - -<p>“They ain’t no title to it,” remarked old -Camp, with a judicial air.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I was trying to recall,” said Mr. -Elder. “Seems to me I’ve heard Attorney -Stockwell say so.”</p> - -<p>“There ye air,” exclaimed the bewhiskered -mill owner, rising and striking the table. -“Stockwell! There ye said it. He’s this boy’s -gardeen an’ ought to be lookin’ out fur him ef -all’s on the square. Why ain’t he cleared the -title to that land? Why ain’t he, the old skin? -I’ll tell ye why, Mr. Elder. He don’t want to.”</p> - -<p>“How’s that,” asked the bank president, leaning -forward, with interest.</p> - -<p>“Anybody goin’ to buy that land offen the boy -when he gits it ’thouten a title?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon not,” ventured Mr. Elder.</p> - -<p>“There ye said it,” snapped Mr. Camp, his -whiskers vibrating in his excitement. “No one -exceptin’ his gardeen mebbe fur little nor -nuthin’.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You mean that the boy’s guardian has neglected -this to injure the title to the property?”</p> - -<p>“When the boy comes o’ age, the farm’ll be -his. He ain’t no farmer, nur don’t want to be. -He’ll put the track up fur sale. Who’ll buy it? -Nobody—exceptin’ the gardeen—Mr. Lawyer -Cyrus Stockwell, an’ at his own price.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” asked Mr. Elder, leaning back into -his chair, “what good will it do him? Won’t be -worth any more to him, will it?”</p> - -<p>“Onless he turns around an’ finds the persons -’at kin give him a title. But he won’t. Them -folks is right here. They air a goin’ to make a -deed right here this mornin’, an’ it’ll run to Bud -Wilson. They air a goin’ to sign the dockyment -right here that’ll make Bud’s farm worth one -hundred and twenty-five dollars an acre o’ any -man’s money.”</p> - -<p>Then, while the interested banker followed old -“Stump’s” explanation eagerly, Mr. Camp told -how Jack Stanley and his wife, the direct heirs -of William Reed and his wife, who had failed to -properly transfer the property to Bud’s father, -were ready and even eager to see justice done. -They were prepared to sign a deed at once.</p> - -<p>The keen, business man drew a long breath, -and looked long and hard at the silent gypsies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Camp,” he said at last, “how’d you work -this out?”</p> - -<p>“Jack Stanley” spoke, for the first time.</p> - -<p>In his rough way he told of his brief acquaintance -with Bud from the time the boy came to him -at midnight for coffee; how Bud had interfered -to protect his mother-in-law from insult; how the -boy had treated them as “white people,” and -finally recalled to the bank officer and fair director -how Bud had come to the rescue of himself -and old Madame Zecatacas when they had -been so unjustly arrested.</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” mused Mr. Elder, “we couldn’t -do a thing with him till we got you out. He’d -work for us for nothin’, but not till we got you -out of jail.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t I tell you,” exclaimed Jack to old -Zecatacas. “Ain’t he on the square for fair? -Dat’s why, mister.”</p> - -<p>The wrinkled Gypsy Queen smiled.</p> - -<p>“He is our friend,” she added in a broken -voice. “To his friend, the gypsy gives all.”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t no Romney,” added the man, shaking -his head, “but the kid’s all right. It’s comin’ -to him, and we’re goin’ to see he gets a square -deal.”</p> - -<p>President Elder sat silent for a few moments,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -and then drew Mr. Camp to the far side of the -room.</p> - -<p>“Camp,” he began, curiously, “what’s your -interest in this boy?”</p> - -<p>It was Mr. Camp’s chance. While the tobacco-chewing -and illiterate mill owner rapidly -related the story of the last two days, the dignified -bank president chuckled, grinned, and finally -burst into loud guffaws.</p> - -<p>“And the joke of it is,” he said, when Mr. -Camp had finished, “that Bud’s fright on the last -day was altogether unnecessary. The machine -is ours. The company accepted our offer by telegraph, -waived their representative’s fee and -called him off.”</p> - -<p>“But Bud seen him waitin’ with the deputy,” -insisted the mill owner.</p> - -<p>“And I had the telegram to call him off in my -pocket,” explained Mr. Elder.</p> - -<p>“Then he wa’n’t goin’ to be arrested?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder shook his head, and laughed again.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Camp dolefully, “ye might -as well kill a feller as skeer him to death.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder paced the floor a few moments. Then -he asked:</p> - -<p>“Where is Bud?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’d a brung him, but we was scart he’d be -put in jail. He’s down to the livery stable.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you all come back here in an hour,” -asked Mr. Elder after another pause, “and -bring Bud with you?”</p> - -<p>“That’s our business to-day,” chuckled Mr. -Camp.</p> - -<p>When they had gone, the bank president sat -back in his chair as if in deep thought for some -minutes. Then he took his hat and walked -hastily out of his room and through the bank. -Mr. Elder went directly to the county courthouse. -There, after using the telephone, he was joined -by a lawyer—but not Attorney Cyrus Stockwell. -Then the two men hastened to the private office -of the judge of the county court, after which they -went to the office of the attorney who had been -summoned by telephone.</p> - -<p>From this office, another telephone message -was sent out, and in response to that, Attorney -Cyrus Stockwell was soon hastening toward Mr. -Elder’s lawyer’s office. Here there was apparently -an animated conference. When President -Elder finally made his way back to his own -office, it was fifteen minutes after the appointed -time. “Stump” Camp, Bud and their gypsy -friends were waiting patiently under the bank -awning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> - -<p>With only a hasty grip of Bud’s hand, Mr. -Elder led the party into the private office once -more. He motioned them to chairs, and then, -with a quick business air, drew out a deed, legally -describing the Reed-Wilson farm and arranged -it for the Stanleys to sign. They did it with -apparent pleasure. Then he read it aloud. The -consideration named was one hundred and fifty -dollars. Bud pricked up his ears.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Stanley,” explained the banker, “your -friend Bud has some peculiar business ideas. He -has just saved our fair association a good deal of -trouble. He didn’t save us any money, but we’ve -concluded that he saved our pride, and we -agreed Saturday night to pay him three hundred -dollars for what he’d done.”</p> - -<p>Bud tried to speak.</p> - -<p>“’Tain’t your time, yet, young man,” interrupted -the banker. “I’m goin’ to pay these -honest people one hundred and fifty dollars for -their trouble in comin’ in here.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Elder stepped out into the banking room, -and a moment later returned with two packages -of one hundred and fifty dollars each. One he -handed to “Jack Stanley.”</p> - -<p>“And now,” he added to the gypsies, “if you -folks would like to do a little shoppin’ before you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -start back to the country, I’d like a few minutes’ -talk with Bud and Mr. Camp.”</p> - -<p>Stanley hesitated and looked at his mother-in-law, -Madame Zecatacas. The latter turned -toward Bud. The boy, hardly knowing what to -do, paused a moment, and then, holding out his -hand, pointed to his “good luck” ring, which he -still wore. Stepping to Stanley, Bud took the -package of money and pressed it into Madame -Zecatacas’ hand.</p> - -<p>“Here, Mrs. Zecatacas, I don’t hardly know -what this all means, but this is from me to you. -And ‘good luck’ with it.”</p> - -<p>With dignity, the three gypsies slowly left the -room.</p> - -<p>For a moment, President Elder sat and -drummed on the table with his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Bud,” he said at last, “you seem to have the -sudden faculty of making good friends. These -good people—including my old friend Camp here—are -no better friends of yours than I am. When -I see any one gettin’ the worst of it, I want to -give ’em a lift. That right ‘Stump’?”</p> - -<p>“That’s my motto.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” went on the banker, “you’ve been -gettin’ the worst of it, Bud. You’re eighteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -years old, and you’ve got the stuff in you to do -things. But you’ve got to get an education.”</p> - -<p>Bud smiled and shook his head doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Camp tells me Mr. Stockwell has put you -out of his house, and that you are going to live -with him.”</p> - -<p>“If he’ll let me,” said Bud. “But he can’t -keep me for nothing. I’ll have to work, and -while I’m workin’ I can’t go to school.”</p> - -<p>“Are you through the grammar school?”</p> - -<p>“That’s all,” confessed Bud, his face reddening. -“I never seemed to get ahead. I was always -in trouble, and whenever I seemed to be -gettin’ a start, Mr. Stockwell would take me out -an’ put me to work a spell. Even ef I had the -money, I ain’t never goin’ to the high school here. -I’m too old.”</p> - -<p>“What would you like to do?”</p> - -<p>“I could go to the normal school, over to Green -County, in the winter an’ work for Mr. Camp in -the summer.”</p> - -<p>“What’d that cost you?”</p> - -<p>“Cost him ’bout eight dollars a week. Josh -figured on it,” answered Mr. Camp.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Elder, throwing himself -back into his chair, “you can do that!”</p> - -<p>Bud gulped.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I been doin’ a little hasty investigatin’ while -I was out. What I found out I got to look into -further, but it’s nigh enough right I reckon to -make it worth tellin’. Mr. Stockwell, as your -guardian and the executor of your father’s estate, -ain’t made but one report to the court in ten -years. Two years after your father died, he reported -that he’d been rentin’ the farm at six dollars -an acre, cash rent. That meant four hundred, -and eighty dollars a year, or nine hundred and -sixty dollars for the two years. Agin that, he offset -one hundred and twenty dollars for taxes, five -hundred and twenty dollars for your board and -clothes, and two hundred and forty dollars ‘for -fences an’ repairs.’ The court allowed it. Since -that time, he ain’t made no report.”</p> - -<p>Bud wrinkled his brow in an effort to comprehend. -But old “Stump” Camp understood and -chuckled.</p> - -<p>“The fences don’t need rebuildin’ very often,” -went on Mr. Elder, “and, allowin’ the same -amount for your board an’ clothes, I figure that -Mr. Stockwell must owe you considerable more -than one thousand dollars.”</p> - -<p>“He hasn’t got it to pay,” exclaimed Bud at -once thinking of Mrs. Stockwell. “An’, besides, -I don’t want it. He wasn’t very bad to me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s for the Court to say,” continued Mr. -Elder. “At least, since you’re not living with -him now, there’s anyway over five hundred dollars -a year comin’ to you from that land from -now on.”</p> - -<p>“And,” added Mr. Camp, crossing the room -to the cuspidor, and parting his flowing beard, -“in three years, when you git yer edication, -there’ll be the eighty acres. I’ll give you ten -thousand dollars fur it.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Elder,” said Bud at last, his voice choking, -“I told you one day last week I wanted to -do something in this town because I wanted to -‘make good.’”</p> - -<p>The pleased and smiling banker looked at him. -Then he pointed to the package of one hundred -and fifty dollars on the table.</p> - -<p>“That shows you made good with us,” he said, -as Bud stood looking at the money.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mean that,” Bud exclaimed with -feeling. “I wanted to ‘make good’ with some -one that counted. If I ‘made good’ with you and -with Mr. Camp, I’m satisfied—I’m happy.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s all go down to my house for dinner,” -said Mr. Elder, turning away abruptly as if to -change the subject.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I can’t,” answered Bud, picking up the package -of bills. “I want to go right out and give this -to Mrs. Stockwell. Mr. Camp,” he added, as he -grasped the old man’s hand, “I’ll be waitin’ at -the livery stable fur you as soon as I kin git -back.”</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="p6">The book you have just read is the second -volume of The Aeroplane Boys Series. The first -story is “In the Clouds for Uncle Sam, or, -Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps.” It can -be bought wherever books are sold as can the -other new titles listed on page two.</p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Airship Boys Series</span>, by H. L. Sayler, are -the best “flying machine” stories to be found. -See<a href="#ad1"> advertisement on page two</a>.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="noi adtitle2"><i>Other Books for Boys</i></p> - -<p class="noi adtitle2">The<br /> -Boy Fortune Hunters<br /> -Series</p> - -<p class="noi adauthor">By FLOYD AKERS</p> - -<p class="noi adauthor">The Boy Fortune Hunters in Alaska<br /> -The Boy Fortune Hunters in Panama<br /> -The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt<br /> -The Boy Fortune Hunters in China<br /> -The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan</p> - -<p class="cap">Mr. Akers, in these new books, has at a single bound -taken front rank as a writer for boys. The stories are -full of adventure, yet clean, bright and up-to-date. The -first volume tells of the exciting scenes in the early days of the -Alaskan gold fields. The next book takes “The Boy Fortune -Hunters” to the “Canal Zone,” and the third story is filled -with stirring incidents in a trip through Egypt. The fourth -book relates thrilling adventures in the Flowery Kingdom, -while the last story carries the youthful heroes through further -exciting times in Yucatan.</p> - -<p class="noic"><i>Illustrated 12mos. Uniform cloth binding, -stamped in three colors.</i></p> - -<p class="noi adauthor">Price 60 cents each</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 405px;"> -<img src="images/backcover.jpg" width="405" height="600" - alt="back cover" title="back cover" /> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="tnote"> -<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class="smfont">Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p> - -<p class="smfont">The Chapter IX title in the Table of Contents (Bud Wilson Makes a - Strange Contract) was changed to reflect the title within the - contents (Bud Makes a Strange Contract).</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Stolen Aeroplane, by Ashton Lamar - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOLEN AEROPLANE *** - -***** This file should be named 54579-h.htm or 54579-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/5/7/54579/ - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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