CHAPTER V.
THE START.
The following morning dawned clear, and bright, and still. It was a daymade to order, so far as a?roplane flying was concerned.
Matt and his cowboy chum spent the night at the post. Before turningin, Matt got into sou'wester, slicker, and rubber boots and churned hisway down to the a?roplane tent to see how Ping and the machine weregetting along.
Everything was all right, and the heavy, water-proofed canvas wasturning the rain nicely. Ping was in love with the _Comet_, and couldbe counted on to guard it as the apple of his eye.
"As fine a morning for your start as one could wish for," observedCameron, with a note of regret in his voice, as he, and Matt, andMcGlory came out of the mess hall and started along the board walk thatedged the parade ground.
"I'm sorry, old chap, we can't take you with us," said Matt, "but the_Comet_ is hardly a passenger craft, you know."
"What will you do with Prebbles, if he's well enough to go?"
"We'll let Ping come with you by train. Prebbles doesn't weigh muchmore than the Chinaman."
"Suppose Prebbles doesn't care to risk his neck in the machine?"
"I don't think he'll make any objection. However, we'll go to yourquarters and make sure of that, right now. How did he pass the night?"
"Slept well, so O'Hara said. He was still sleeping when a privaterelieved the sergeant. McGlory," and here the lieutenant turned to thecowboy, "do you feel as much like flying, this morning, as you did lastnight?"
"Not half so much, Cameron," answered McGlory, with a tightening ofhis jaws, "but you couldn't keep me out of that flyin' machine with ashotgun. If we join a circus as air navigators, I've got to get used toflying, and I might as well begin right now."
"All right," answered the disappointed lieutenant, "I'll go by train."
The doctor was with Prebbles when Cameron and the boys reached thelieutenant's quarters. What is more, the doctor's face was graver thanit had been the preceding afternoon. The old man was throwing himselfaround on the bed and muttering incoherently.
"Delirious," said the doctor, examining a temperature thermometer;"temperature a hundred and three, and he's as wild as a loon. Newt,Newt, Newt--that's the trend of his talk. You can't understand him,now, but he was talking plain enough when I got here."
"Is the sickness serious?" asked Matt.
"Pneumonia. Know what that is, don't you, Matt? It's hard enough on aperson with a good constitution, but in a case like this, where thepowers of resistance are almost exhausted, the end is pretty nearly aforegone conclusion. However, we're taking the trouble right at thebeginning, and there's a chance I may break it up."
"Get a good nurse for him," said Matt, "and see that he gets all thecare possible. The poor old chap was a good friend of mine, once, andI'll bear all the expense."
"Never mind that, Matt," spoke up Cameron. "If Murgatroyd is caught,because of the tip he gave us, the government will be owing Prebbles alot of money."
Suddenly the old man sat up in bed, his eyes wide and staring vacantly,his arms stretched out in front of him and his hands beating together.His voice grew clear and distinct, echoing through the room with weirdshrillness.
"At the cross, at the cross, there I first saw the light, And the burden from my heart rolled away! It was there by faith I received my sight, And now I'm happy all the day!"
One verse was all. Spent with the effort, Prebbles dropped back on thepillow and continued his whispered muttering.
"It's one of those Salvation Army songs," observed the doctor.
"He thought he was marching and playing the cymbals," said Matt, in alow tone.
"Too bad!" exclaimed McGlory, shaking his head.
"Do all you can for him, doctor," urged Matt.
"I will, of course," was the answer, "but you may be able to do morefor him than any one else, Matt."
"How so?"
"Why, by bringing back that scalawag son of his. That's the one thingthe old man needs. If we can show Prebbles the boy, and make himrealize that he's here, and sorry for the past, it will do a world ofgood."
"I'll bring him!" declared Matt, his voice vibrant with feeling."Prebbles said this business would make or break him; and, as the workis on my shoulders now, it's make or break for me. Come on, Joe!"
He turned from the room, followed by McGlory and Cameron. Out of thepost went the three, and down the hill and past the post trader'sstore, the king of the motor boys saying not a word; but, when theshelter tent was in sight, he turned to his companions.
"It's mighty odd," said he, "how chances to do a little good inthe world will sometimes come a fellow's way. Through that rascal,Murgatroyd, I was led into giving a helping hand to Mrs. Traquair; andhere, through the same man, I've a chance to help Prebbles."
"And you can bet your moccasins we'll help him," declared McGlory,"even though we lose that circus contract. Hey, pard?"
"We will!" answered Matt.
Ping had cooked himself a mess of rice on a camp stove near theshelter tent. He was just finishing his rations when the boys and thelieutenant came up.
"We're going out in the a?roplane to-day, Ping," announced Matt.
"Allee light," said the Chinaman, wiping off his chop sticks andslipping them into his blouse.
"You and McGlory are going with me," went on Matt.
The yellow face glowed, and the slant eyes sparkled.
"Hoop-a-la!" exulted Ping. "By Klismus, my likee sail in Cloud Joss!"
"I wish I had that heathen's nerve," muttered the cowboy. "It's plumbscandalous the way the joy bubbles out of him. All his life he's beenglued to _terra firma_, same as me, but, from the way he acts, you'dthink he'd spent most of his time on the wing. But mebby he's onlyrunning in a rhinecaboo, and will dive into his wannegan as soon aswe're ready to take a running start and climb into the air. We'll see."
"Pump up the bicycle tires, Joe," said Matt. "Get them good and hard.Ping," and Matt pointed to the haversack of provender McGlory hadbrought from the post, "stow that back of the seat on the lower wing.We may be gone two or three days."
"And mebby we'll be cut off in our youth and bloom and never comeback," observed McGlory, grabbing the air pump. "This is Matt's makeand break," he grinned grewsomely; "we make an ascent and break ourbloomin' necks. But who cares? We're helping a neighbor."
Ping crooned happily as he set about securing the haversack. He'd havejumped on a streak of chain lightning, if Matt had been going alongwith him to make the streak behave.
The _Comet_ had two gasoline tanks, and both of these were full. Theoil cups were also brimming, and there was a reserve supply to be drawnon in case of need.
Matt went over the machine carefully, as he always did before a flight,making sure that everything was tight and shipshape, and in perfectrunning order.
Even if anything went wrong with the motor, and the propeller ceased todrive the a?roplane ahead, there would have been no accident. The broadwings, or planes, would have glided down the air like twin parachutesand landed the flyers safely.
Cameron, having manfully smothered his disappointment, lent his heartyaid in getting the boys ready for the start. The machine, at thebeginning of the flight, had to be driven forward on the bicycle wheelsuntil the air under the wings offered sufficient resistance to liftthe craft. A speed of thirty miles an hour was sufficient to carry theflying machine off the ground and launch it skyward.
But there was disappointment in store for the boys. The three, seatedon the lower plane, Matt at the levers, tried again and again to sendthe machine fast enough along the muddy road to give it the requiredimpetus to lift it. But the road was too heavy.
The trick of fortune caused Ping to gabble and jabber furiously, butMcGlory watched and waited with passive willingness to accept whateverwas to come.
"I guess you'll have to give up, Matt," said Cameron. "The road's toosoft and you can't get a start."
Matt looked at the prairie alongside the
road. The grass was short, andthe springy turf seemed to offer some chance for a getaway.
"We'll try it there," said he, pointing to the trailside. "Give us aboost off the road, Cameron, and then start us."
The lieutenant assisted the laboring bicycle wheels to gain theroadside, and then pushed the machine straight off across the prairie.Matt threw every ounce of power into the wheels.
Usually the air ship took to wing in less than a hundred yards, butnow the distance consumed by the start was three times that. For twohundred feet Cameron kept up and pushed; then the _Comet_ went awayfrom him at a steadily increasing pace. Finally the wheels lifted.
Quick as thought, Matt shifted the power to the propeller. The _Comet_dropped a little, then caught herself just as the wheels were brushingthe grass and forged upward.
"Hoop-a-la!" cried Ping.
McGlory said nothing. His face was set, his eyes gleaming, and he washanging to his seat with both hands.