CHAPTER III
A NARROW ESCAPE
The _Gossamer_ had struck “a hole in the air!” “We are lost!” thoughtDave Dashaway.
The young aviator was not prone to arrive at senseless conclusions. Hehad made a practical study of aeronautics, in a way; from the first timethe pioneer airman harnessed a gasoline engine to a kite and called it aflying machine, down to the loop-the-loop somersault trick in aviation.
A “hole in the air” to the sky traveler is what a yawning chasm is to aspeeding automobile or an unexpected cataract to a hydroplane. It isworse than a “killed” motor or even a threatened “turn turtle.” Everypart of the machine suddenly goes useless. The heavy mechanism simplydrops. In a word, the _Gossamer_ had been caught in a dead void causedby two opposing air currents colliding, and shutting the machine into anabsolute pocket, or vacuum.
If Dave had remained inert, or had hesitated for a single instant oftime, the _Gossamer_ would have been doomed. A slender thread of hopepresented itself and he was quick to utilize it to the limit. “Feeling”the air with one cheek, he noticed the tail of the machine give a quickswitch. This he at once understood indicated that the master air currentwas from the north. Dave hoped there was power enough left in thepropellers to make a sharp, quick turn. He set the apparatus for thespeediest whirl he had ever attempted.
The machine was tipping, dropping steadily. Dave banked to the left at amost critical angle. There was a dizzying spin and then a dive. A greatbreath of relief swept from Dave’s lips as the _Gossamer_ righted. Thewings caught the violent blast of the gust, and the machine fairly boredits way ahead, true as an arrow, into the teeth of the storm.
A drenching shower shut the aerial wayfarers into a blinding deluge ofrain drops. Then their course lightened, and Dave knew that the thinningveil of moisture indicated sunlight beyond it. He shut down speedslightly. The air pressure was fast decreasing as the _Gossamer_ emergedfrom the clouds. Dave gradually worked the head of the machine duesouthwest once more. The former head wind was regained, and sunnyprogress offered beyond.
“A close shave,” said Dave, to himself, and turned to see how hispassenger had taken it.
“I suppose that scared you somewhat, Miss Winston?” he remarked.
Amy’s face was pale, and she showed the strain of her startlingexperience, but she replied:
“I could not be frightened with you. Anybody as kind and thoughtful asyou are to a poor girl in distress like myself, could not be anythingbut brave.”
Dave’s heart warmed at the compliment. He admired the girl, too. As hethought back, he realized that his nerves had been at a tension whereany outcry or movement on the part of his passenger might have upset hisself-control, and have prevented the prompt action which had saved theday.
He felt proud and pleased at his success in turning a hard corner. Hispassenger, too, became more light-hearted as the prospect of soonreaching the side of her invalid mother became more assured. Once ortwice as they flew over chicken coops in farm yards there was greatexcitement beneath them, and she could not help but smile.
“That is Easton,” she leaned over finally to say to Dave, as thesteeples and factory chimneys of a little town came into view.
The girl pointed out her home a few minutes later, and Dave prepared tomake a landing. The _Gossamer_ came to earth in the middle of a field afew hundred yards distant from the house the girl had designated.
Long before Dave had released the ropes that had held his passenger inher seat, people who had viewed the novelty of a real airship cameflocking to the spot from all directions. Amy seized the hands of theyoung aviator, bubbling over with gratitude. She tried to thank him asshe wished to, but the words would not come.
“Don’t delay, Miss Winston,” said Dave. “I know they must be veryanxious about you at home.”
Dave led his little charge to the fence surrounding the field and helpedher over it. Then he returned to the _Gossamer_. He found that thepropellers had gone through some strain during his adventure in thestorm, and he had some little work to do with chisel, hammer and wrench.While he was thus occupied almost a mob surrounded the airship, curious,gaping and delighted.
A man wearing a big star, and evidently the policeman of the town, madehimself very officious keeping the crowd back. He had seen an airshiponce at a county fair and paraded his knowledge now. He triedindustriously to make himself very agreeable to the young aviator. Davehad to laugh secretly to himself as the man pinched his fingersdescribing to a local newspaper man that this was the “magenta”—meaningmagneto; and that the “carbutter”—meaning the carburetor.
“You must have been reading up on airships,” spoke the newspaper man tothe policeman, as the latter walked importantly about the craft, now andthen sternly calling on some small lad to “git back out th’ way.”
“I have,” came the confident answer. “I know a lot about ’em. Of courseI haven’t ever sailed in one, but my brother, he’s a policeman in LongIsland, and once, when I was on a visit to him, he was detailed to goout to a place where they was havin’ one of these airyplane contests,and keep order. I went with him, and he swore me in as his deputyassistant. I seen a lot of them foreign fellers fly, and I picked up alot of information.”
“I suppose so,” murmured the newspaper man, who was new in town, and didnot know enough to discount the boasting talk of the officer.
“Yes, indeed!” went on the constable. “Why, once one of thembirdmen—they call ’em ‘birdmen’ you know,” he explained as though heknew it all, “once one of ’em run out of gasoline just as he was goin’to start in a prize flight, and if it hadn’t been for me he’d never wonit.”
“How’s that?” asked the reporter.
“Why I hustled over to the hangar—that’s the French word for a balloonshed,” he explained condescendingly, “I rushed over to the hangar andgot him a can of gasoline and he went up as slick as anything and wonthe prize. He said I helped him a lot, and he gave me a dollar. I didn’twant to take it, but he insisted. Oh, I know a lot about airships.”
Dave was so busy tightening some of the guy wires that had come loosenedat the turn buckle, by reason of the great strain, that he paid littleattention to the reporter and the constable for a few minutes.
The young aviator, however, noticed that the officious officer wasbecoming more and more familiar with the machine, touching the differentparts, often calling them by their wrong names, and totally unconsciousof his errors. Nor was the reporter any the wiser.
“I don’t exactly understand what makes the airship move,” confessed thenewspaper man to the self-appointed instructor. “Is it——?”
“It’s these here perpellers,” explained the constable. “They work justlike an electric fan, you know.”
“I see, but then the blades of an electric fan go around but the fandoesn’t sail in the air. Why is that?”
“Well—er—it’s because—Oh, here’s something I forgot to explain,” saidthe constable quickly, finding himself unexpectedly in deep water. “I’lltell you about the perpellers later. This here’s the radiator,” he wenton. “It’s full of water, just like in the radiator of an automobile, andit keeps the gasoline from boiling over—cools it off you know.”
“Indeed,” said the reporter, who knew a little about autos. “But Ithought the water was to keep the engine from getting overheated.”
“Not in an airship,” insisted the constable. “In an airyplane theradiator keeps the gasoline cool. I’ll jest show you how it works,” and,before Dave could stop the man, he had opened a small faucet in theradiator, designed to drain out the water.
Now it happened that Dave had been running his engine very fast, and, inconsequence, the water in the radiator—which really did cool the motorand not the gasoline—this water was very hot—in fact some steam waspresent.
No sooner did the meddlesome constable open the stop-cock that a jet ofsteam shot out, burning hi
s fingers severely. The man jumped back withan exclamation of pain.
“I—I didn’t know it was so hot!” he cried. “This must be a new coolingsystem he’s using on this affair.”
“I should say it was more like a _heating_ system,” remarked thereporter, with a smile he could not conceal.
“Ha! Ha! Shiner got burned!” yelled a small boy who had been orderedaway from the craft. “Shiner got burned! Ha! Ha!”
“Make a cup of tea, Shiner!” yelled another lad, “Shiner” evidentlybeing the constable’s nickname.
“I’ll ‘shiner’ you if I git holt of you!” he threatened, rushing forwardwith some of his fingers in his mouth to render the pain less. It wasnot a very dignified attitude for a guardian of the law.
“I wish you’d shut that stop-cock!” cried Dave, who was busy tighteninga part that he could not very well leave just then. “Shut that wateroff, or I’ll lose all there is in the radiator, and have to put inmore.”
“It—it’s too hot,” objected the constable, his attention drawn from theannoying lads. “I didn’t know it was so warm. What system do you use?”
Dave was too annoyed to answer, and the constable, not wishing to burnhimself again, held back. Meanwhile water and steam were spurting fromthe stop-cock.
“I’ll shut it off,” volunteered the reporter, feeling that he was partlyto blame for the incident, since he had evinced a curiosity that theconstable had tried to gratify.
The newspaper man advanced toward the radiator, which was now envelopedin steam. Dave saw that he had on no gloves.
“Look out!” cried the young aviator. “You’ll get a bad burn. That’s veryhot. Here,” he added, “take these pliers, and turn that valve. I’d do itmyself only if I let go this wire it will slip and I can’t easily get itin place again,” and Dave indicated where a pair of pliers lay on theground.
“I get you,” said the reporter with a smile. A moment later he had shutthe stop-cock and the stream of water and the hissing steam stopped.
“Cricky! but this burns!” exclaimed the constable. “I forgot about theradiator part. Some airships don’t have ’em on.”
“Why not?” asked the reporter.
“Oh, er—well—you see—say, here’s what I was telling you about, theperpellers, they make the ship go. You see you turn them around to startthe engine, jest like you crank an auto. I guess I can turn them over,though it’s pretty hard. Down on Long Island, where my brother was thattime, I helped one of the birdmen lots. You jest do it this way,” and headvanced toward the big wooden propeller.
“Here, don’t touch that!” cried Dave, but he was too late. The officiousconstable whirled the wooden blade around. As it happened Dave hadturned on the switch in order to make a test, and had forgotten, untilthat moment, to turn it off. But when he saw what the man was going todo he realized what would happen. “Let that alone!” he cried, beingunable to get out, as he was straddling one of the runners to tighten awire.
The constable gave the apparatus another turn, and with a rattle andbang, like a salvo of musketry, the motor started.
Now there is considerable power to an airship’s propeller—there has tobe to make the craft sail. As the blades whirled about they fairly blewthe constable back out of the way. His helmet went sailing off, tossedby the terrific wind created and, only that he jumped aside in time hewould have been hurt. The airship, too, would have moved off, only Davehad left the drag-brake on. This halted it long enough for the youngaviator to leap out and shut off the switch.
“Say!” the lad cried to the constable, “I’ve a good notion to——”
“I—I didn’t know it would start!” cried the man, finally managing to geton his feet, for he had staggered back so fast that he fell. “I didn’tknow it would do that. I—I guess I’ll go up to the drug store and getsomething for my burned fingers,” and, not stopping to give any moreinformation to the newspaper man, the officer hurried off, amid thelaughter of the crowd.
It took Dave half an hour to get the machine as he wanted. He had apleasant chat with the local reporter, who was immensely interested.Dave got ready to start back for home, when a young fellow about his ownage made his way hurriedly through the crowd. Our hero observed hisresemblance to his recent passenger. He was excited and eager, andseized Dave’s hand with great warmth.
“You are Mr. Dashaway?” he spoke.
“Yes, I am Dave Dashaway,” replied the young aviator, pleasantly.
“My sister sent me. Oh, how we want to thank you,” and the tears beganto fall down the cheeks of the manly young fellow.
“How is your mother?” asked Dave, embarrassed at the growing attentionof the listening crowd about them.
“That’s it, that’s it,” exclaimed young Winston, brokenly. “You’ve savedher, oh, think of it; the doctor says she won’t die, now!”
Dave tried to quiet the agitated lad, but the latter would have his say.From his incoherent talk Dave gathered that Mrs. Winston had indeed beennear death. The main trouble was that she imagined her daughter Amy haddied away from home. The girl’s return had quieted the frantic sufferer.She had received Amy in a wild transport of delight. Then she had goneto sleep in her daughter’s arms, happy and quiet, the fever broken; andthe doctor had announced that the crisis was past.
The crowd began to get wind of the pretty little story of Dave’sheroism. The newspaper man was excitedly taking notes. The policemanlooked proud at having something of importance happen in the town ofwhich he was the public guardian, and the crowd began to shout handsomethings at Dave.
The young aviator was actually blushing as he started the _Gossamer_again. Cheers of genuine enthusiasm rang out, three times three and manytimes over, as the machine shot skyward. Then, as Dave caught sight of alittle lady waving a handkerchief at him from the front porch of theWinston home, he felt somehow as if a real blessing had been bestowedupon him.
“It’s a good deal to be an airman,” Dave told himself. “It’s a good dealmore to be able to do a kind deed and make others happy,” he added, soglad that he had been of service to Amy Winston, that he would have beenwilling to go through the daring adventure all over again.
The skies had cleared in every direction. The machinery of the_Gossamer_ worked to a charm on the return trip to Lake Linden. The dialshowed a trifle over two hundred miles in five hours and a half.
Dave made a run for the turning bar in one corner of the enclosure toget the stiffness out of his limbs. Then he hurried over to the livingtent, glad that he had an interesting story to tell to his fellowairmen.
“Nobody here?” he remarked, looking around. “Mr. Grimshaw and Hiram musthave gone to town. Probably didn’t expect me home so soon.”
“Hello, there!” spoke an unexpected voice.
Dave turned quickly. Two persons had passed the gates and wereapproaching him. He recognized them at once. One was thefoppishly-dressed man he had seen twice before. The other was the boywho had shaken his fist at Dave when the _Gossamer_ had started on thehasty trip to Easton.
At closer sight than before the young aviator instantly read hisvisitors as in a book. The elder of the twain was about twenty-five orthirty years of age, and all his elegant attire and rather handsome facedid not disguise his resemblance to some shrewd sharper who made his wayin the world by living on others.
The boy suggested the spoiled scion of some wealthy family, with plentyof money, and used to spending it foolishly. His face was flushed andexcited, and Dave decided that he was under a very baneful influence inthe company he kept. He was the first to speak.
“You are Dashaway, I suppose?” he observed in a careless, almostinsolent way.
“Yes,” said Dave.
“Well, this is my friend, Vernon. Was here before, to-day.”
“I know he was,” replied Dave.
“Where is the old fellow who was so saucy to him?”
“What do you want to know for?” demanded Dave, unable to keep fromgetting a trifle angry.
/> “Because he’s due for a trimming, that’s why. I don’t allow my friendsto be treated that way. See here, I don’t suppose you know who I am,”observed the speaker, with an air of self-assertion that was almostridiculous.
“I don’t,” answered Dave.
“I thought so. That may enlighten you.”
The boy drew an elegant case from his pocket, selected a card with atissue paper cover, and handed it to Dave, who took it, somewhat curiousto know the personality of so presumptuous an individual. The card read:“_Elmer Brackett_.”
The name Brackett was suggestive to Dave, but not altogetherenlightening. There was a Mr. Brackett who was president of theInterstate Aero Company. Dave read the card over twice, closely andthoughtfully, then he looked his visitor squarely in the face.
“Well?” he demanded, coolly.
“My name is Brackett, as you probably observe,” remarked the boy,smartly.
“I see it is.”
“You don’t seem to understand yet,” proceeded the forward youth. “Myfather is the owner of the company that hires you.”
“Well?” again challenged Dave.
“You’ve heard of him, I reckon.”
“Many times,” replied Dave.
Young Brackett looked nettled. Apparently he had expected Dave to bowwith reverence or quake with fear.
“See here,” he spoke suddenly in a harsh, rasping tone. “I’m ElmerBrackett, my governor owns that airship and everything around here. I’mhis son, and I want to give my friend Vernon a spin in the air.”
“Well,” said Dave simply, “you can’t do it.”